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doors with biodegradable hinges that will decompose within a year, opening the traps if they become lost. Lobstermen also use Global Positioning Systems to help pinpoint their traps. Lobsters are scavengers and are attracted to the bait in the traps. When another lobster enters the trap, the larger one will frequent- ly eat the smaller one.The blood and scent trails from the cage,send- ing tasty messages to other lobsters that a good meal is available. In this way, the cannibal lobsters will eat forever if the traps aren’t retrieved. “How much pain will they feel when you drop them in that boil-


ing water?”my empathetic children want to know when Victor asks for their assistance in cooking the lobsters.To them, the crawling active creatures seem to possess more feeling than the clams they caught, but they happily indulge anyway.


T


he lagoon is as still as glass in the early morning as we head out in search of seals.The children bend over their cockpits mes-


merized by the open book beneath them.The clear shallow water shows fish, crabs and Moon Snails creeping along, and all sorts of delicate sea greens undulating gently in the tide. In the distance,we begin to see the seals beached on a sandbar,


so many hunkered on top of each other that it looks like a sizeable piece of island. “As we approach them,” Victor warns,


“the children should stop paddling alto- gether and you and Todd paddle very low on the side away from them. The more movement there is, the more they can get spooked.”Victor hands Sierra his binoculars and they become glued to her eyes. Through the lens we can see the seals’ whiskers, and the mist


snorting through their nostrils.The males have larger heads,pointier noses and look horse-like.Victor tells us grey seals have only one off- spring or pup born in mid-January to mid-February. The mothers nurse for three to four weeks and their milk is some of the richest


on the planet—comparable to whales.We stop paddling and allow our boats to drift towards them. With binoculars we can study individual seals and watch them open their mouths, raise their heads and howl.We laid in our sleep- ing bags and listened to them last night, completely in awe. Over at their sandbar, forty more seals lumber into the water, looking so ungainly and awkward as they scrape themselves along by contracting their strong belly muscles. Once in the water, they swim with fluidity and grace that defies their huge bulk. The children are mesmerized by the seals’ presence.Victor whis-


pers to them,“What do you think?”And all they can do is nod their approval and give him the thumbs-up sign. Perhaps the seals that did move off the sandbar are the inquisi-


tive ones.Some swim to within fifteen metres of our boats.The low morning sunlight spots their heads a brilliant white.They surface so close to our boats—popping out of the water with a snort through their nostrils—we can actually smell their pungent fishy odour.After bobbing for awhile, studying us, they dive down with a slap and a splash. We are right smack in the middle of the tide change and the sea


Grey seals are the largest of the four species


living in the Gulf of St. Lawrence and up to five hundred arrive in Kouchibouguac in June.


is incredibly still.For half an hour we float peacefully,content to be in each other's presence. Not a single boat has passed on its way out to the Northumberland Strait in the time we visit the seals. It is Sunday and the lobstermen have the day off. We are all reluctant to head back.After a good half a mile we turn around to see half


a dozen seals still following us.They too want us to stay and play a little longer.We feel connected both floating out there—us in our kayaks, them swimming and bobbing. There aren’t many experi- ences in life that come close to this type of communion with the natural world…a world only revealed through the power of your kayak paddle.


Cindy Ross is a freelance writer and photographer.


30 FALL2002


photo by Nicole Daigle


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