CROWD PLEASERS AT THE MONTEREY BAY ACQUARIUM
(Excerpt from my book: OUR SUMMER IN CARMEL: AMAZON.COM)
Mother Nature’s gifts to Carmel and Monterey Bay are not limited to
its trees. The sand in places on Carmel Beach is strikingly white. This is
attributed to a prehistoric upwards thrust of the coast that exposed the
light-colored granite, which, over the ages, has been ground down to a
fine, white-powder-sand beach. Also, there is Carmel’s signature critter,
the sea otter. These playful animals are the darlings of the Monterey
Aquarium, but barely survived to this day because of their valuable
pelts; more sought after at one time than ermine or sable. They were
nearly hunted into extinction. Why the sea otter was so valuable is the
extreme thickness of its fur. Not having layers of fat like seals to protect
themselves from the cold waters of the California coast, the sea otter
developed a fur coat so thick, it has more hair per square inch than any
other animal, preventing the cold water from penetrating to their skin.
This also made them very valuable, especially to the Russian fur traders
who came farther and farther south along the coast in pursuit of these
mammals, an expansion that contributed to spurring the Spaniards to
action and finally settling Northern, California.
It would be possible to write an entire chapter about these incredibly
lovable mammals. How they roll onto their backs and pound a mussel
against a rock on their chest to get at the meat, nibbling at their meal
held in tiny paws like a gourmet sampling an appetizer. A mother nestling
an offspring against her chest is one of nature’s most maternal visual
images. Sea otters napping, as they wrap themselves in kelp and simply
drift with the current, are a poster for “sans souci.” They leave us with
the image of a whiskered face, looking like a wise grandfather, peering
at us with their dark brown eyes; a weary look saying that they have seen
more than we care to know. It was long thought that the sea otter was
hunted to extinction. But far down the wild and inaccessible Big Sur
coast a few survived. When Highway 1 was pushed through the region
as a depression era project, workers discovered a few long-surviving
small colonies of sea otters, which were quickly protected by the Federal
government. The entire central coastline is now a protected sea otter
preserve. It is estimated that, in the 1930s, there were only a small singledigit
number of survivors. There are about 2,800 today.
CROWD PLEASERS AT THE MONTEREY BAY ACQUARIUM
(Excerpt from my book: OUR SUMMER IN CARMEL: AMAZON.COM)
Mother Nature’s gifts to Carmel and Monterey Bay are not limited to
its trees. The sand in places on Carmel Beach is strikingly white. This is
attributed to a prehistoric upwards thrust of the coast that exposed the
light-colored granite, which, over the ages, has been ground down to a
fine, white-powder-sand beach. Also, there is Carmel’s signature critter,
the sea otter. These playful animals are the darlings of the Monterey
Aquarium, but barely survived to this day because of their valuable
pelts; more sought after at one time than ermine or sable. They were
nearly hunted into extinction. Why the sea otter was so valuable is the
extreme thickness of its fur. Not having layers of fat like seals to protect
themselves from the cold waters of the California coast, the sea otter
developed a fur coat so thick, it has more hair per square inch than any
other animal, preventing the cold water from penetrating to their skin.
This also made them very valuable, especially to the Russian fur traders
who came farther and farther south along the coast in pursuit of these
mammals, an expansion that contributed to spurring the Spaniards to
action and finally settling Northern, California.
It would be possible to write an entire chapter about these incredibly
lovable mammals. How they roll onto their backs and pound a mussel
against a rock on their chest to get at the meat, nibbling at their meal
held in tiny paws like a gourmet sampling an appetizer. A mother nestling
an offspring against her chest is one of nature’s most maternal visual
images. Sea otters napping, as they wrap themselves in kelp and simply
drift with the current, are a poster for “sans souci.” They leave us with
the image of a whiskered face, looking like a wise grandfather, peering
at us with their dark brown eyes; a weary look saying that they have seen
more than we care to know. It was long thought that the sea otter was
hunted to extinction. But far down the wild and inaccessible Big Sur
coast a few survived. When Highway 1 was pushed through the region
as a depression era project, workers discovered a few long-surviving
small colonies of sea otters, which were quickly protected by the Federal
government. The entire central coastline is now a protected sea otter
preserve. It is estimated that, in the 1930s, there were only a small singledigit
number of survivors. There are about 2,800 today.
