Seals are wonderful creatures, especially our personal favourite, Bob. He swims the harbour popping his head up beside the floating seabirds scaring them silly, and then he laughs. He actually laughs, well maybe barks, but it is definitely a laughing bark.
This is NOT Bob, but it is a seal like creature.
Still, this blog tries to stay on topic about music, so I was thinking about the musical nature of Bob and friends – not that we saw any of his friends with him. They must have been meeting later at the local hostelry.
Anyway there are other harbours than Bobs and we saw a few of them too. The seals gather like a choir at rest, sprawled across the docks, basking in the rhythm of the tide. Their voices rise and fall with the water, a natural counterpoint to the mechanical hum of the marina.
Each bark, each splash, feels like a note in a living score. The harmony isn’t written; it’s improvised, one of nature’s great improvisers, the seal. Their sound is shaped by instinct, sunlight, and the shared pulse of the sea.
Watching them, you realize that music doesn’t always come from instruments. Sometimes it’s born from motion, from the way creatures inhabit sound. The seals remind us that art begins in listening, not just to melody, but to life itself.
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