Come see the seals!

Maybe it is Mother Nature’s unforgiving release of all things blusterous and frigid that makes me believe the Mayan's foresight could possibly be true. “A winter storm warning is in effect for your area” and “we will see the accumulation of at least 8-10 inches” have become customary phrases in meteorologists' vocabulary this winter. Snow days were fabulous when I was in school, but now I saunter outside dressed like Ralphie from “A Christmas Story” and the only thing I can show for it is aching muscles and 98 dollars cut from my bi-weekly paycheck. I’ve never had a stronger inclination to stomp through snow angels and flick out the dark taunting eyes of every snowman that lines my street. 

Stubborn snowflakes refusing to melt off my windshield

 I always mocked the “snow birds” that traveled to Florida to hibernate in the winter months. I was proud to be a New Englander and was adamant about the importance of the change of seasons. “The winter makes you appreciate the summer.” “If you have too much of one thing, it looses its meaning.” Well after the forth snowstorm in one month, lounging on the beach in Miami with a daiquiri glued to my hand seems like heaven right about now.

But despite my strong adversity to this white purgatory, I decided to join my friend and her father one Saturday morning at 8am on a seal walk. 

Whenever friends or family come to visit, they are always astonished by the “wildlife” out here, especially if they come from a place where the closest thing they have to a natural animal presence is setting mousetraps in their basements. 

In the summer chirping birds are my alarm clock. I eat my breakfast amongst bunnies nibbling on our lawn and squirrels playing tag. Even in the winter, I am still awe struck at the beautiful simplicity in a family of deer standing proudly our lawn, as if they own it. But I never knew the waters surrounding Long Island were so alive.

So I yanked myself out of bed at 7:30 on a Saturday (I know, I know), bundled myself up to my eyeballs, and met my friend and her father at Cupsogue Beach.

Dune Road is this long stretch of asphalt spanning from Hampton Bays to Center Moriches that separates the ocean from the bay. It is overflowing with extravagant mansions and holds some of the highest property value in the world. Cupsogue is one of the only beaches on Dune Road that are open to the public for only $10. You do not have to be a member, unlike many of the exclusive and expensive beach clubs that are scattered throughout Dune Road. You do not have to be a resident of Westhampton Beach or even of Southampton Town.

So with none of these limitations holding anyone from laying out their towel and slopping on the sunscreen with a prime ocean side view, you can only imagine how crowded Cupsogue Beach is in the summer. And to add to the madness, the part of the beach that borders the bay is open to RVs, trailers, and campers to drive up, park, and play.

This was the first time I had ever been to Cupsogue with three sweatshirts on and leggings under my jeans. It was the first time I could hear myself think. It was the first time I didn’t have to suppress the inherent need to scream when a family full of “citidiots” set up their belongings so close to me, I could take sandwiches out of their cooler without leaving my beach chair.

I have never seen the point of going to the beach in the winter since my sole purpose for going was to get as dark as the melanin in my body would allow, but the serenity and peacefulness of this picturesque landscape was worth the numbness taking over my toes. We walked through a barely plowed path in search for seals.

My friend had seen this seal walk advertised in our local paper, so we figured there would be a group leader or at least other people. We were even nervous we wouldn’t be able to take part since we didn’t register but we were the only warm blooded bodies within miles.

We trekked along the bay side through shin high snow until we saw something out on the sand bar. My friend's father said they were just black birds but binoculars proved him wrong. Regardless of the fact that you needed one of those cameras with a 20 ft lens or a canoe to see them up close, we had found seals! There were at least 15 of them just basking in the winter sun, lazily passing the day away. We noticed a baby seal swimming closer to us and was frightened when he popped his head out of the water to come face to face with a seagull.

They're out there, I swear!

We continued walking down the path, trying to get a closer look and instead of finding the typical human footprints masking the beach, this sand was decorated with duck prints as well as what we, self-proclaimed marine biologists for the day, concluded to be seal prints.

Even though I was losing feeling in three quarters of my extremities and I am not the biggest fan of sea life, this made one day of my winter coma a little more bearable. The seals reminded me of pudgy water puppies and I got to experience the sanctity of this enchanting atmosphere. It also gave me a reason to drink a heaping cup of hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream. Only 145 days until summer but whose counting.