He stirred his Velvet Head

During fair(er) weather months, at one of our favorite beaches, we spot the bobbing seals riding the waves close enough to the shores.  Sometimes, with their heads alone visible, they look like the ends of periscopes sticking out of submarines.  Which is when we wonder whether they are watching us, when we are watching them.

As we walk along the waters, they seem to follow along in parallel.

I don't need to know if they are really watching us humans.  The science of the animal behavior interests me little.  The idea that they are watching and playing with us from a distance makes us happy.  It is charming.

It is like what Emily Dickinson wrote in "A Bird, came down the Walk."

A Bird, came down the Walk - 

He did not know I saw -

He bit an Angle Worm in halves

And ate the fellow, raw, 

 

And then, he drank a Dew

From a convenient Grass -

And then hopped sidewise to the Wall

To let a Beetle pass -

 

He glanced with rapid eyes,

That hurried all abroad -

They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,

He stirred his Velvet Head. - 

 

Like one in danger, Cautious,

I offered him a Crumb,

And he unrolled his feathers, 

And rowed him softer Home -

 

Than Oars divide the Ocean,

Too silver for a seam,

Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,

Leap, plashless as they swim.