In a matter of months, Prince hopes he'll be able to duplicate the success of Gold Beach. Barricades for the docks are in the works, the public has been prohibited from Hyde Street Pier, and he is in the process of applying for permits to use seal bombs and buckshot. He's also hoping to hire a full-time sea lion shooter. "If there was a company around that we could contract with, like Sea Lion Eradication Incorporated or something like that, we would do it," he said.
Whether Gold Beach's tactics will work here is unclear. Up there, the sea lions had nowhere to go but back to the ocean. In San Francisco Bay, there are all kinds of places they can hang out. And that's assuming no environmental activists decide to protest over the use of weaponry. As clear as the problem may be to the people who deal with it every day, there are plenty of animal lovers who won't comprehend how a man can raise a gun to a sea lion.
Jake Poehls
Dolphin Club swimmers say they have been bumped and bitten in the water.
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Battling nine-foot waves and punishing wind on its way to the Farallon Islands, the Kitty Kat sped past a number of giant green buoys, all of which had been commandeered by California sea lions. Huddled together and bobbing in the fog, they appeared to be dreaming of a sardine-surrounded dock in the bay, where the laws of nature are less relevant than the MMPA.
Carol Keiper, a boisterous naturalist who resembles Frances McDormand, announced that this would be a good place to release the yearling sea lions, and Captain Joe Nazar, a burly environmentalist, agreed. Both have seen shark attacks around the Farallones; several years ago, as documented in The Devil's Teeth, a book on great white sharks, two sea lions were released and immediately massacred. "Not my buddies," Nazar said. "Not on my ship."
If those on board didn't like the idea of sea lions having it rough in nature, they liked harassment from humans even less. "You can assume that people who are working at a place like the Marine Mammal Center are more of the school of thought that the area the pier was built on was home to sea lions far before humans were here," said Enosh Baker, a Marine Mammal Center intern.
When the boat arrived at Fisherman Bay, captain and crew took a long look at the water for sharks. When none materialized, the strongest passengers lifted and unlatched the kennels on the sides and back of the boat. Suspended above the swirling, icy waters, most of the sea lions clung desperately to their kennels, forcing their releasers to tilt and shake the enclosures. One by one, the animals slipped out; a group of four huddled close to the boat. The humans cheered and shouted goodbyes.
Wayne Fenton had taken Breadstick to the starboard, where there was an opening in the side of the boat. He didn't want to dump his sea lion overboard; he wanted her to be able to jump into the ocean on her own.
When he unlatched the kennel, Breadstick immediately stuck her nose out and dove into the sea. She swam in several circles, looking back at Fenton with her one eye. When another sea lion, Fall In, joined Breadstick, they shared a nose kiss, then swam off together toward the Farallones.
"Breadstick was just spinning and spinning and spinning!" Fenton said with a loud laugh. "That felt really good."
On the way back, he looked over his pictures of the sea lion, and reflected on his time with her. "If Breadstick could actually talk, I could see her saying thank you for taking the time to actually do this," he said. "I just hope Breadstick has an inkling that someone actually cared."
When the Kitty Kat arrived back at the Hyde Street Harbor, the infestation was there to greet the boat. Looking over the dock, several passengers let out gasps and began pointing to where a moaning sea lion lay with an enormous gash on its side. One disturbed onlooker reached for a cellphone.
