THE FUR-SEAL ISLANDS OF ALASKA. 41 



Podding of the pups. — The "podding" of these young pups in the rear of the great rookeries of St. 

 Paul, is one of the most striking and interesting phases of this remarkable exhibition of highly-organized life. 

 When they first bunch together they are all black, for they have not begun to shed the natal coat: they shine with 

 an unctuous, greasy reflection, and grouped in small armies or great regiments on the sand-dune tracts at Northeast 

 point, they present a most extraordinary aud fascinating sight. Although the appearance of the "holluschickie" at 

 English bay fairly overwhelms the observer with the impression of its countless multitudes, yet I am free to declare, 

 that at no one point in this evolution of the seal-life, during the reproductive season, have I been so deeply stricken 

 by the sense of overwhelming enumeration, as I have when, standing on the summit of Cross hill, I looked down to 

 the southward and westward over a reach of six miles of alternate grass and sand-dune stretches, mirrored upon 

 which were hundreds of thousands of these little black pups, spread in sleep and sport within this restricted tield 

 of vision. They appeared as countless as the grains of the sand upon which they rested. 



Second cnANGE or coat. — By the 15th of September, all the pups born during the year have become familiar 

 with the water; they have all learned to swim, and are now nearly all down by the water's edge, skirting in large 

 masses the rocks and beaches previously this year unoccupied by seals of any class. Now they are about five or 

 six times their original weight, or, in other words, they are 30 to 40 pounds avoirdupois, as plump and fat as butter- 

 balls, and they begin to take on their second coat, shedding their black pup-hair completely. This second coat 

 does not vary in color, at this age, between the sexes. They effect this transformation in dress very slowly, and 

 cannot, as a rule, be said to have ceased their molting until the middle or 20th of October. 



This second coat, or sea-going jacket, of the pup, is a uniform, dense, light-gray over-hair, with an under-fur 

 which is slightly grayish in some, but is, in most cases, a soft, light-brown hue. The over-hair is fine, close, and 

 elastic, from two thirds of an inch to an inch in length, while the fur is not quite half an inch long. Thus the 

 coarser hair shingles over and conceals the soft under- wool completely, giving the color by which, after the second 

 year, the sex of the animal is recognized. The pronounced difference between the sexes is not effected, however, 

 by color alone until the third year of the animal. This over-hair of the young pnp's new jacket on the back, neck, 

 and head, is a dark chinchilla-gray, blending into a si one- white, just tinged with a grayish tint on the abdomen and 

 chest. The upper lip, upon which the whiskers or moustaches take root, is covered with hair of a lighter gray 

 than that of the body. This moustache consists of fifteen or twenty longer or shorter oristles, from half an inch 

 to three inches in length, some brownish, horn-colored, and others whitish-gray and translucent, on each side and 

 back and below the nostrils, leaving the muzzle quite prominent and hairless. The nasal openings and their 

 surroundings are, as I have before said when speaking of this feature, similar to those of a dog. 



Eyes of the pup-seals. — The most attractive feature about the fur-seal pup, aud that which holds this place 

 as it grows on and older, is the eye. This organ is exceedingly clear, dark, and liquid, with which, for beauty and 

 amiability, together with real intelligence of expression, those of no other animal that I have ever seen, or have 

 ever read of, can be compared; indeed, there are few eyes in the orbits of men and women which suggest more 

 pleasantly the ancient thought of their being "windows to the soul". The lids to the eye are fringed with long, 

 perfect lashes, and the slightest irritation in the way of dust or sand, or other foreign substances, seems to cause 

 them exquisite annoyance, accompanied by immoderate weeping. This involuntary tearfulness so moved Steller 

 that he ascribed it to the processes of the seal's mind, and declared that the seal-mothers actually shed tears. 



Bange of vision. — I do not think that their range of vision on land, or out of the water, is very great. 

 I have frequently experimented with adult fur-seals, by allowing them to catch sight of my person, so as to 

 distinguish it as of foreign character, three and four hundred paces off, taking the precaution of standing to the 

 leeward of them when the wind was blowing strong, and then walking unconcernedly up to them. I have invariably 

 noticed, that they would allow me to approach quite close before recognizing my strangeness; this occurring to 

 them, they at once made a lively noise, a medley of coughing, spitting, snorting, and blaating, and plunged in spasmodic 

 lopes and shambled to get away from my immediate neighborhood; as to the pups, they all stupidly stare at the 

 form of a human being until it is fairly on them, when they also repeat in miniature these vocal gymnastics and 

 physical efforts of the older ones, to retreat or withdraw a few rods, sometimes only a few feet, from the spot upon 

 which you have cornered them, after which they instantly resume their previous occupation of either sleeping or 

 playing, as though nothing had happened. (See note, 39, M.) 



Power of scent : Odor of the seals. — The greatest activity displayed by any one of the five senses of 

 the seal, is evidenced in its power of scent. This faculty is all that can be desired in the line of alertness. I never 

 failed to awaken an adult seal from the soundest sleep, when from a half to a quarter of a mile distant, no matter 

 how softly I proceeded, if I got to the windward, though they sometimes took alarm when I was a mile off. 



They leave evidences of their being on these great reproductive fields, chiefly at the rookeries, in the hundreds 

 of dead carcasses which mark the last of those animals that have been rendered infirm, sick, or were killed by 

 lighting among themselves in the early part of the season, or of those which have crawled far away from the scene 

 of battle to die from death- wounds received in the bitter struggle for a harem. On the rookeries, wherever these 

 lifeless bodies rest, the living, old and young, clamber and patter backward and forward over and on the putrid 

 remains, and by this constant stirring up of decayed matter, give rise to an exceedingly disagreeable and far- 



