Memorial Day. A day of reflection, remembrance, and seal sitting.

The call came in around 1:30 pm. A woman reported a furry white seal pup stranded near the water tower in the Semiahmoo area. I received the text message asking me if I could go check on it and

Lanugo pups are preemies, and more common at the start of pupping season. The furry pups look even more defenseless than full-term baby seals. Because of their fluffy fragile cuteness, the pups also attract people's attention more.

As cute as they look, it is a sad sight to see. Lanugo pups have a low probability of survival and are often abandoned by the mother straight off, after birth. Federal marine mammal statistics show that mortality is around 90 percent for the preemies.

As a certified and trained responder (volunteering with the only accredited organization for marine mammal stranding response in Whatcom County), my job was to assess it's condition. Take digital images and transmit those back to our lead investigator for further action determination.

When I arrived at the area reported as the stranding site I intitially could not locate a pup nearby. Not finding the pup would have been a good thing. My hope was that this was one of the 10 percent of pups whose mom came back for it. After 40 minutes of checking that area of shoreline and the adjacent marina slips I headed over to a spot more likely to have seal pups.

The seal rookery is on a set of floating docks which help to create a harbor for the marina. The ropes and floats attached to the docks are great spots for mothers to stash pups.

As I walked down to the rocky shore to scan for the preemie I noticed a family gathering near a tide pool, excitedly taking out cell phones and positioning children for a photo op. With a sigh, I knew I'd located the seal pup.

It was low tide and the beach extended out more than a hundred meters. A few large tide pools, looking like ponds, broke up the exposed seafloor.

I greeted the family loudly, though very cheerfully,with a smile from ear to ear. “Hi, folks! I see that you've found a seal pup. Please move away from it so we don't scare its momma away.” I identified myself to them (I was also wearing a shirt that has the stranding network logo on it and my laminated responder I.D. Badge hung around my neck) and began to explain that I was responding to a call to check on this pup.

To their credit, the family promptly backed away and told the children not to go near the pup. It doesn't always happen that way. Sometimes people nod, smile and continue to take selfies and let their offspring get within inches of the seals.

I spent a few minutes telling them about the harbor seals colony, the pupping season, and how female seals put pups in safe places so the mothers can go feed. I explained that harbor seals are mammals and the babies need mother's milk to survive. I did not mention that the beautiful creature trying to follow them around was very likely doomed.

This being a holiday weekend, the beach was crowded and people were walking by – both on the pathway overlooking the beach and on the rocky shore itself. This pup, no matter its chances of survival for natural reasons, needed to be further away from people. The one thing that would spell certain death would be if it were picked up or pet (not to mention the potential for human injuries from bites). Mother seals are not keen on coming back for babies who reek of human interaction.

The question was how to move the pup without picking it up. The answer came quickly enough as I watched it wriggle its way after one of the children. It was so ignorant of the world that it thought of people only as friendly surrogates for mom, and would follow people who paid attention to it (another really good reason for it to be further away from folks).

I walked a few feet away from the pup, in the direction of the rookery, and beckoned it by calling “here pup. Come on, pup.”

Over the course of 20 minutes we moved together. First I'd lead by walking along the edge of a large tide pool, stopping and crouching down, digging into the sand a little with my hand, and calling quietly to the preemie. Dutifully, it would make its way forward almost to me. Just before it could get too close I would stand and repeat the process.

“Keep going pup. Come on, baby.” I cooed as we moved further towards the tide line. Once it was more than a hundred feet away from the closest people I crossed the tide pool and stood on the other side, across from the now tired pup.

It rested quietly, safely. I watched over it until I was relieved by another certified responder. The seal sitting went on until sundown.

At the time of this writing I still hope that mom came back. I hope it was old enough, strong enough, and feisty enough to survive. The next few days will tell us what happened. I was able to mark the hind end of the pup in a green (nontoxic and designed for wildlife marking) paint. If it's seen alive again, we'll know mom came back.

I don't say this enough. I started volunteering because I want to do something in my own backyard that supports the critical issues of conservation that I write about. It's personal for me, and I am grateful I have the opportunity to be a marine mammal responder. There's no better kind of tired than when you return from a stranding call.