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Authors: Mollie Hunter
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remembered Old Da’s warnings and felt his conscience pricking him. To begin with, he would choose a small geo where there was only likely to be a small nursery of pups with a few cow seals and probably only one bull seal. Also, he would not go ashore at all if the bull was there to guard the beach, and he would take care to hold the pup so that it could not possibly bite him.
With all this in mind then, Robbie fixed that year on a geo that exactly suited his purpose; and patiently every Saturday he visited it, until at last there came the moment he had planned. Eight white seal pups lay on the tiny beach at the inner end of the geo. There was no sign of the bull seal which usually lay roaring there – no sign even of a single cow seal flopping about on the beach, or sliding gracefully through the water.
With his heart hammering out a great drumbeat on his ribs,Robbie let the boat ground gently on the shingle. Stepping knee-deep into the water, he edged the prow on to the stones. Then, moving as silently and cautiously as possible, he approached the nearest of the pups and knelt beside it.
The pup’s fur was thick and wet; but the wetness did not seem to bother it, for it was sound asleep, lying on its back with its flippers in the air. Robbie stared at the sleeping pup. It was the first time he had seen one at such close quarters, and he could feel the desire to touch it becoming quite overpowering. Gently he reached out a hand, and laid it on the thick, white fur.
The pup’s great, round eyelids snapped open. Its mouth opened also, showing two rows of very white, very sharp teeth. Rolling quickly over on to its belly, it made an angry, hissing noise at Robbie. Then, with strong, rapid movements of its flippers, it began pulling itself away from him. Robbie stared after it, swallowing his disappointment as best he could before he turned to the next pup.
This one was also lying on its back, and it seemed even more sound asleep than the first pup had been, for it hardly stirred at all when Robbie ventured a gentle hand on its fur. Cautiously he knelt beside it. With his right hand supporting himself on the shingle, he let his left hand travel slowly, very slowly, across the pup’s soft, wet fur. And slowly, slowly, as Robbie’s fingers caressed it, the pup awakened.
It stretched, tail and flippers quivering. It made little, contented mewing noises, and its head rolled round to rest against Robbie’s right forearm. Its eyes opened; great, dark-brown, shining eyes as round as buttons, that stared soulfully up at him.
Robbie began to tremble with the effort not to laugh at this look. The pup was still leaning its head against his right arm, and when he thought he had control of himself, he slipped his left arm around the other side of its body. Carefully then, he gathered the pup clear of the shingle; and rose, holding it cradled in his arms.
It was astonishingly heavy, he found, for such a young creature.And even more astonishing was the heat that came from its damp little body. Holding it, thought Robbie, was like holding a little furnace against his chest.
The black nails on the underside of the pup’s flippers caught his attention, and he put one finger against them to see what it would do. Immediately it bent its flipper so that it could grip the finger with these nails, and there was such strength in the grip that Robbie realised there was no way of breaking it except by laying the pup down. Unwillingly, he did so, and then saw the reason for the power of the pup’s grip as it bent its flippers again and used the nails to pull itself rapidly away over the shingle.
The other pups on the beach were all awake, their heads turning towards him, their bright, brown-button eyes staring. Robbie approached them one by one, stopping gently, going down on one knee beside them; but the pups would have none of him. They hissed, showing rows of sharp white teeth as the first pup had done. Even the pup he had lifted was
With all this in mind then, Robbie fixed that year on a geo that exactly suited his purpose; and patiently every Saturday he visited it, until at last there came the moment he had planned. Eight white seal pups lay on the tiny beach at the inner end of the geo. There was no sign of the bull seal which usually lay roaring there – no sign even of a single cow seal flopping about on the beach, or sliding gracefully through the water.
With his heart hammering out a great drumbeat on his ribs,Robbie let the boat ground gently on the shingle. Stepping knee-deep into the water, he edged the prow on to the stones. Then, moving as silently and cautiously as possible, he approached the nearest of the pups and knelt beside it.
The pup’s fur was thick and wet; but the wetness did not seem to bother it, for it was sound asleep, lying on its back with its flippers in the air. Robbie stared at the sleeping pup. It was the first time he had seen one at such close quarters, and he could feel the desire to touch it becoming quite overpowering. Gently he reached out a hand, and laid it on the thick, white fur.
The pup’s great, round eyelids snapped open. Its mouth opened also, showing two rows of very white, very sharp teeth. Rolling quickly over on to its belly, it made an angry, hissing noise at Robbie. Then, with strong, rapid movements of its flippers, it began pulling itself away from him. Robbie stared after it, swallowing his disappointment as best he could before he turned to the next pup.
This one was also lying on its back, and it seemed even more sound asleep than the first pup had been, for it hardly stirred at all when Robbie ventured a gentle hand on its fur. Cautiously he knelt beside it. With his right hand supporting himself on the shingle, he let his left hand travel slowly, very slowly, across the pup’s soft, wet fur. And slowly, slowly, as Robbie’s fingers caressed it, the pup awakened.
It stretched, tail and flippers quivering. It made little, contented mewing noises, and its head rolled round to rest against Robbie’s right forearm. Its eyes opened; great, dark-brown, shining eyes as round as buttons, that stared soulfully up at him.
Robbie began to tremble with the effort not to laugh at this look. The pup was still leaning its head against his right arm, and when he thought he had control of himself, he slipped his left arm around the other side of its body. Carefully then, he gathered the pup clear of the shingle; and rose, holding it cradled in his arms.
It was astonishingly heavy, he found, for such a young creature.And even more astonishing was the heat that came from its damp little body. Holding it, thought Robbie, was like holding a little furnace against his chest.
The black nails on the underside of the pup’s flippers caught his attention, and he put one finger against them to see what it would do. Immediately it bent its flipper so that it could grip the finger with these nails, and there was such strength in the grip that Robbie realised there was no way of breaking it except by laying the pup down. Unwillingly, he did so, and then saw the reason for the power of the pup’s grip as it bent its flippers again and used the nails to pull itself rapidly away over the shingle.
The other pups on the beach were all awake, their heads turning towards him, their bright, brown-button eyes staring. Robbie approached them one by one, stopping gently, going down on one knee beside them; but the pups would have none of him. They hissed, showing rows of sharp white teeth as the first pup had done. Even the pup he had lifted was
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