words from the world

We drive northwards to get to Cape Cross. On this short rocky outgrowth, 130 kilometers north from Swakopmund, about ten thousands of seals gather. We go through the entrance gate of the reserve and a pestilential smell gets in our nostrils. We stop our car at the end of the dirt track where an improvised car park looks over a wooden footbridge. A concert of bleatings welcomes us. We can be mistaken about these animals' cry and compare it with a herd of goats' one. The comparison stops there. Thousands of dark masses fidget in front of us. In a clumsy way, the seals wriggle on the sand, attempt to climb upto the smooth rocks and it's only when they dip into the water they get back their agility and a certain grace. Despite the awkward appearance, this animal is a formidable predator since the cape fur seals that live on the Namibian and Southafrican shore gulp down more fish every year than the fishing industry of the 2 countries put together. Far from these considerations we enjoy watching these mammals, a perpetually moving picture. Not far from here, two jackals prowl around, locating some new-born young for a future feast.
The Cape Cross colony is exclusively made up of females and we shall come back for the breeding period (end of november – beginning of december) to see the 5-time-bigger males creeping out of the water. During this short season, the community outnumbers hundred thousands animals. A whole city spreading over a few hectares...