"Is that why they have such fine fur?"
"Obviously. And," the Fisheries official continued, "under that close warm fur they have blubber. Lots of it."
"Blubber like whales?"
"Just the same. Fur and blubber keeps 'em warm in the cold water. Too much covering for the air. Like wearing North Pole clothing at the Equator. If the sun comes out they just about faint. On bright days the young seals make for the water. Those that have to stay on the rookery lie flat on their back and fan themselves. Certainly! Use their flippers just the way a woman uses a regular fan. See 'em any time."
Colin looked incredulously at his companion.
"I'm not making it up," the other said. "They fan themselves with their hind flippers, too. Just as easy."
"I think they must be the noisiest things alive," said Colin, putting his fingers in his ears as they rounded the point and the full force of the rookery tumult reached them.
"The row never stops," the assistant agent admitted. "Just as much at night as daytime.
Seals are used to swimming under water where light is dimmer. Darkness makes little difference. Seemingly! Don't notice it after a while."
"The queer part of it is," the boy said, listening intently, "that there seem to be all sorts of different noises. It's just as I said coming into the bay, it sounds like a menagerie. I'm sure I can hear sheep!"