Northern elephant seals have been through a lot. By 1880, they were thought extinct, having been hunted for their blubber to fuel the industrialization of the world. They disappeared from North Pacific beaches.
But they had a trick up their sleeve — or their flipper, shall we say. A staggered migration pattern ensures some seals are always out in the ocean. Each beach always has a few seals in residence, either mating or molting or giving birth, while a portion of the population is out at sea, diving deep for food, thousands of miles away, halfway to Japan.
And so, life persisted.
In 1892, after they were already declared extinct, a few were discovered at Guadalupe Island off the coast of Mexico. Now, there are 200,000 Northern elephant seals. They haul out on beaches from Mexico to Northern California and are most populous in January, when females give birth.
At Point Reyes National Seashore, a 100-square-mile peninsula with 80 miles of shoreline just north of San Francisco, their numbers have been rising steadily for several decades. Unlike national parks, there’s no traffic, not even an entry station or fee stop.
On a recent day trip to the seashore, we were blessed with many natural wonders: the spout of a migrating grey whale, the barks of sea lions, several birds of prey1 hunting and harassing one another, and blacktail deer, which traversed the cliffs like mountain goats.
Last week, about 2,200 seals were visiting Point Reyes. The National Park Service summarizes their growing numbers here:
After being absent for more than 150 years, northern elephant seals returned to sandy pocket beaches on the south side of the Point Reyes Headlands in the early 1970s. In 1981, the first breeding pair was discovered near Chimney Rock. Between 1988 and 1993, the population grew at a dramatic annual average rate of 32%. Since 1993, the average growth rate has slowed to 8–9% per year.
And, though humans caused the elephant seal’s decline, humans are now their partners in recovery. President Kennedy first protected Point Reyes by “authorizing” its designation as a national seashore in 1962. A few years later, the unfunded park almost sold the land to developers who planned to build 4,500 houses. Katherine Miller Johnson, California Congressman Clem Miller’s widow, campaigned Congress and President Nixon to fund the park. It was officially established in 1972.
Soon after, as if accepting an invitation, elephant seals returned to Point Reyes’ shores.
In 2014, the park service shut down a commercial oyster operation in Drakes Bay, a focal point for the elephant seals’ migration. This year, 150 years of dairy farming will come to an end, thanks to decades of advocacy by environmentalists who raised concerns about erosion, water quality and wildlife.
In addition, a small army of volunteers protects the seals from human interference at both Point Reyes and Año Nuevo State Park. They guard beaches from sunup to sundown and through freezing coastal fog and wind, to ensure visitors stay behind fences and on viewing platforms. At Año Nuevo State Park, visitors must reserve guided tours when the big, 3,000-pound males are on the beaches (video above).
The docents form bonds not just with the wildlife, but among themselves, building strong friendships that even turn into marriages. In Volunteering and Friendship at Point Reyes National Seashore, Tori Norman shares the “secret” of volunteering:
I want to put myself in positions where I feel good, and people who give of themselves are the people I want to hang with—they are good people.
In January, every type of seal is on the beach, from pregnant and nursing females to young pups, to big bulls and young males. The largest bulls establish harems of up to 30 females, and mate with them just after they wean their pups. The smaller, younger males try to stay out of the way to avoid eliciting aggression from larger males, who viciously fight to protect their harems. Thus, this guy was 100 yards from the main beach. He’s been sleeping here for three weeks.
Hope for wildlife renewal as dairy farming ends
In 2020, during a severe drought, 150 of the endangered tule elk at Point Reyes died for lack of water. This was one third of the herd. Tule elk are the smallest of all elk species and are only found in California. Their numbers have since recovered at Point Reyes.
The tule elk herd lived behind a long fence for several decades because of concerns from cattle ranchers about disease and interference. This didn’t go beyond the notice of environmentalists, including the Center for Biological Diversity,2 which sued the park in 2016 and 2022. At issue was not just the fence but the park’s renewal of 20-year cattle ranching leases which the group felt conflicted with the park’s mission to “preserve unimpaired the natural and cultural resources and values of the National Park System.”
In December, news broke that the fence would come down for good and the elk would be free to roam the entire park. Most of the ranchers have agreed to a $30 million payout to close operations, which includes $2.5 million to help employees relocate and find new jobs. The settlement will be funded by The Nature Conservancy, which helped broker the deal but wasn’t a party in any of the lawsuits.
The settlement comes with much controversy and heartache. Commercial dairy farming predates the park’s establishment in 1972. Some families have been ranching there for six generations. However, rewind to the 1960s, and these same ranchers had begun selling to developers, who hoped to build a seaside suburb of San Francisco. A builder had already broken ground on 400 houses near the wetlands. The threat of development is what prompted the creation of the park in the first place.
“If this effort had failed, Point Reyes would probably look like Sea Ranch at best, and Huntington Beach at worst,” the Point Reyes Light wrote in a commemoration of the seashore’s 50th anniversary.
Now, the fence is down, the ranchers will be compensated, and the wildlife roams free.
“This settlement is a major win for tule elk and Point Reyes’ environment, wildlife and native plants,” said Jeff Miller, a senior conservation advocate at the Center for Biological Diversity, in a press release. “I’m proud of what this collective agreement has accomplished and I'm looking forward to the improved management approach it can usher in. This is a historic opportunity to expand elk herds, restore coastal prairie habitats, and protect endangered species.”
This isn’t just about elephant seals and tule elk. There’s a whispered promise of future sea otters squirming among tidal mudflats.
Scientists identified Point Reyes’ wetlands as ideal habitat for endangered Southern sea otters, a keystone species that can help engineer healthy ocean and wetland ecosystems. Sea otters have rebounded to 3,000 in Southern and Central California, but have been unable to migrate north past sharks at Ano Nuevo State Park. However, a few years ago, a young female sea otter, one who had been rescued, tagged and rehabilitated at Monterey Bay Aquarium, was spotted in Tomales Bay, having swum 108 miles north past several shark gauntlets.
It’s the end of the day; we’re driving out when we round the corner and have to stop for a bunch of cows to cross the road. The cows are sweet, with big, gentle brown eyes. At the farm’s gate, I see a sign for Straus Creamery, a delicious organic brand that still sells their milk in glass bottles. It’s not homogenized, so the cream plugs the top and the milk tastes incredibly fresh. I feel gratitude for the worker who pats the cows as they walk toward their milking barn.
Then a pinch of sadness gets me when I realize that, even if we return soon, it’s probably the last time we’ll see the cows. Many of the dairy farms have already sold their cattle. The muddy trails that cut into the hillsides and the non-native grasses, which pose water quality and wildlife concerns, will heal and transform into native coast grassland.
And what of the farmers and their workers? They will find a way to survive, just like the elephant seals once did. I don’t blame them for loving to live and work by the sea, with the birds, the deer, the elk, the barking sea lions, the grey and humpback whales, and the sleeping elephant seals. The land, for now, will return to nourishing these.
Elephant seal fast facts:
Females have been recorded diving up to 5,000 feet deep.
Their skulls most closely resemble skulls of brown bear!
Because their numbers dwindled so dramatically (some estimate only 20 were left before they stopped being hunted), they are experiencing symptoms of a genetic bottleneck.
They travel up to 10,000 miles per year, from the Western U.S. and Mexico, across the Pacific, halfway to Japan and back.
Pups drink 1.5 gallons of milk per day and are weaned after a month, at which point their mothers completely abandon them to learn how to swim and fish on their own.
Further reading on the Point Reyes ranching controversy and historic settlement:
The Nature Conservancy’s January 9 press release: Historic Agreement on Cattle Ranching and Wildlife Management at Point Reyes National Seashore Ends Decades of Conflict.
The local paper, The Press Democrat, published a piece that captures the anguish rocking the community. It’s slightly biased against the environmentalist groups involved, but contains the comprehensive history of the park and its legal woes: Inside the secret Nature Conservancy deal to end ranching in Point Reyes National Seashore
More on sea otters:
Endangered sea otters keep invasive green crabs in check at Elkhorn Slough
About Earth Hope:
Earth Hope is a solutions-based journalism project that highlights environmental success stories from around the globe, because hope is the foundation of progress. I’m Amanda Royal, a former newspaper reporter and current eco-news junkie. Read more about this project and what inspired it.
Visit earthhope.substack.com for more stories. For the best photo viewing experience, click the main headline above to view using a desktop browser.
"You can't cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water."
—Rabindranath Tagore
Redtail hawk, ferruginous hawk, American kestrel and Northern harriers all call the park home
Along with co-plaintiffs Resource Renewal Institute and Western Watersheds Project
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