If a neighbourhood cat padded into your garden it would barely register a passing glance. But what if it was a whiskery, 300kg male sea lion, with a mouth full of teeth, seeking love on your doorstep, or a heavily pregnant sea lion lounging among the flowers?
For those living in New Zealand’s southern city, Dunedin – where a growing population of sea lions are becoming resident – close interactions with the rare and charismatic animals are increasingly a reality.
“They’re absolutely fearless, they’re not afraid of people … there’s something about them in terms of their intelligence that most people click with,” says Jim Fyfe, the Otago region’s coastal biodiversity ranger at the Department of Conservation (DOC).
A 13-year-old female sea lion, named Hiriwa, searches for a place to camp out along Brighton Road near Westwood, Dunedin. Photograph: Derek Morrison/Credit: Derek MorrisonThe New Zealand sea lion is one of the rarest sea lion species in the world. Once found along the entire coastline, they now reside primarily in the sub-Antarctic Islands, roughly 700km south of New Zealand. There is evidence Māori hunted the sea lions, but when European settlers set up a sealing industry in the 1800s, their numbers plummeted. Now, there are roughly 10,000 left.
Until 1994, no sea lions had been born on New Zealand’s mainland in more than 150 years. Then along came a sea lion, nicknamed Mum, who birthed a pup. Since then, a growing cohort of her descendants – 39 breeding pairs – have returned to Dunedin’s Otago peninsula annually.
She just looked up at me and it changed the course of my dayNicole Bezemer
Over the summer months, pregnant sea lions seek sheltered spots inland, away from cantankerous males. They have been found on golf courses, in playgrounds, on highways, in motels and in gardens, and racing surfers through the waves – a phenomenon blurring the edges between natural and urban habitats for sea lions.
For one Otago peninsula resident, Nicole Bezemer, these close encounters have been life-changing.
On a January morning this year, Bezemer was struggling to leave bed due to depression. When her dog needed a walk, she obliged, but part way down her path, Bezemer came into contact with Mahira – a four-year-old sea lion with a newborn pup propped up on her flippers.
“She was tiny … and she was not at all frightened. She just looked up at me and it changed the course of my day, and quite possibly … my summer.”
Bezemer’s new residents gave her a reason to get out of bed. The pup, which Bezemer named Mabel, became a fixture in her garden for weeks, while Mahira fished at sea. Bezemer learned quickly not to leave her shoes and socks outside for fear Mabel would tear them up, and ensured her dog kept a wide berth. Mabel’s favourite sleeping spot was a bucket inside Bezemer’s shed.
“They’re very playful and very curious,” Bezemer says. “Mabel would go up to my dog’s water bowl … put her head in and blow bubbles.”
Problems further afield
The sea lions’ expansion into the mainland may be a welcome – if curious – addition to daily life, but it is bittersweet. Their presence could also signal trouble in their homes further away.
“It’s not actually an indication of the population as a whole doing any better,” Fyfe says, adding that sea lions are having to travel thousands of kilometres on foraging trips. About 98% of sea lions are born in the sub-Antartic Islands and those populations are declining.
“They’re up against some environmental limits, and that could be due to climate change and food being in different places, or not being so abundant, or it could be the other thing, which is the fisheries.”
An estimated six sea lions a year die after being accidentally captured in commercial fishing nets around the sub-Antarctic Islands. That number could be higher, and fishing may affect sea lions’ food sources, says the DOC. In May, the government scrapped official limits on the number of sea lion deaths through commercial fishing nets.
While the community largely supports conservation efforts, the interactions between humans and sea lions are not always amicable, Fyfe says. In September a pup was shot dead, and a month later, her mother suffered the same fate.
The question of how to manage a growing sea lion population in a busy city is top of mind for Fyfe. “There are so many situations where I say, ‘man, this is only 30 pups being born’. What about when we’ve got 100 pups being born? What’s that going to look like?”
People are tolerant of the creatures turning up in their back yards but there are issues with roads and ensuring sea lions have safe habitats to survive, he adds. Educating the public about their behaviour is key, while planning for the next 50 years is essential, Fyfe says.
“We talk about sea level rise, climate change and the impacts on our coastal infrastructure. Part of that discussion has got to be … what are the needs of sea lions?”
At a community level, work is under way to help sea lions feel at home.
Bezemer is part of the Tomahawk-Smaills BeachCare Trust, which is restoring the natural habitat and biodiversity of the dunes – something she hopes will encourage sea lions to stay in the area and flourish.
For Bezemer, it is both a conservation and a personal mission.
“I have a debt to pay the creatures that really did help me, quite profoundly, at a difficult time.”
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