Animal Vision

Alderbrook Resort, Washington

No one will ever believe this, but I will always remember it.

It was a dark night in January. The holidays had come to a close, and I was enjoying a couple nights away for some much needed me-time. I sat on the balcony outside of my room, my body still, with my gaze fixed on the water. The evening lighting from the dock shimmered on the water in such a way that I was able to see the shape and silhouette of what appeared to be a sea lion slowly approaching the shore.

I noticed her eyes first. Two round, glowing objects that would light up, then disappear, with the slightest turn of her head. Light reflected off her slippery skin as she maneuvered her body. Every move was slow and cautious.

A man and a woman appeared at the foot of the dock about to walk across it. I watched them, wondering if they would notice the sea lion. They didn’t; likely because the sea lion’s body had lowered into the water, and only the bob of her head was visible. When I looked back at her, her eyes were glowing so brightly in my direction, I thought for a second she was looking directly at me. In rationality, it was impossible.

I quietly scooted my chair closer to the railing and rested my chin on the banister so I could stay focused on her. The longer I watched, the more I was convinced I was watching a curious sea lion creep her way up to shore in hopes of getting a closer look at all the commotion taking place on land.

The thought occurred to me to grab my phone and take a picture. Perhaps, the night settings could capture a clearer picture of what was swimming out there. I had left my phone inside, and I knew the chances of retrieving it before this moment ended were very small. I watched a little longer as she remained in the same position, her eyes still glowing in my direction. I decided to get my phone.

I stood up from my chair, and the second I did, the animal I had been watching rose up out of the water, spread its big, white wings and quickly flew into the evergreens right outside my bedroom. I stared into the trees, bewildered by what just happened, hoping to see or hear this animal one more time. Yet, it was quiet and still; she was gone.

I walked back inside, trying to process what I had just witnessed, if anything. I began to write down the experience in my journal, and the last line I wrote, “I know I saw that thing rise up and fly out of the water. And I also know that before she did, she was not a bird.”