Noses lifting out of the incoming tide. Fading light and calm conditions highlight the glistening faces of grey seals.
Strange mewing sounds emanate from the far pebble strand. Cream bags of fur call and wriggle, the natal bond broken by unwanted intrusion.
A hasty retreat; a necessary departure, distant observation high above the cove. Routinely the protective bobbing heads; mere yards offshore from their offspring, call the 'all-clear'.
Hauling out, the lumbering mother returns. Suckling her young, each pup jostling beside the spread gravity-burdened body.
A race against time and instinct. An idyllic scene all too soon to be ended, as abandonment awaits. The strong will survive and the weak will perish...