The Secret of the Seal

by Deborah Davis

  No one spoke, and no one laughed.

  “I’ve never seen a seal swim under water, but they sure are clumsy on land. They’re really made to swim, aren’t they? I bet they’re graceful in the sea, like this!” Kyo picked up his spoon and made it swoop through the air.

  “Whoosh … whoosh … whoosh!”

  The door opened and George walked in, head hanging. Kudlah filled another bowl with soup and set it on the table for his brother-in-law. “Come eat, George. You must be hungry. Are you ready for the long trip back to the city tomorrow?”

  George washed his hands and sat down heavily beside Kyo. “I am ready,” he replied. “But the seal is not. She should have awakened by now. Something went wrong. She is dead.”

  Kyo jumped up and ran outside without stopping to put on his parka. The others stayed seated.

  His heart pounding, Kyo unfastened the door to the cage and crawled inside, moving carefully around his friend. He bent to feel her breath on his ear. Nothing. He listened for a heartbeat and heard it, a little sluggish but steady.

  Then he tilted his head again for a breath. It seemed like forever before he felt a gentle tickle against his skin. He waited, stock still, until he felt it again.

  Sighing with relief, Kyo leaned back, stroking Tooky’s head.

  “Why won’t you wake up?” He spoke to her still form. “I don’t know how to help you, but first I want to get you out of this cage.”

  Kyo crawled out and stalked into the house.

  “She isn’t dead,” he announced to the waiting adults, who looked surprised.

  “Kyo,” George said gently, “I know you’re upset about this. But she isn’t breathing—”

  “She is, too!” Kyo interrupted. “You just have to be patient. You don’t understand seals! Sometimes they don’t breathe when they sleep. But she will wake up!” His voice shook, a little unsure, but he rushed on. “You have to help me move her. She will feel better when she’s near the water.”

  “You have seen this animal before, Kyo?” asked Kudlah.

  Kyo nodded his head.

  “And she lets you get so close that you can watch how she breathes?”

  “Yes.” Kyo spoke quietly.

  Kudlah wrinkled his brow pensively, then stood up.

  “If the seal is dead, George, she’ll be of no use to us. Her meat will be spoiled by the drug in your darts, and we must throw her back in the bay.

  “And if she is alive”—he looked at Kyo—“perhaps the boy can wake her up.”

  Kudlah put on his parka and boots and left the house.

  Annawee put aside her sewing and also got ready to go outside. George sat with his elbows on the table, head in his hands.

  “Ahko!” Annawee spoke sharply to her brother. “Let us do what Kudlah says.” George got up slowly and followed the others outside.

  In the light of the rising moon the seal did indeed look dead. “We’re going to help you now, Tooky,” Kyo whispered through the wire.

  As George climbed on the snowmobile, Kyo said to his father, “I want to move her with the dog team.”

  “All right,” agreed Kudlah.

  With four of them working, the sledge was unharnessed from the snowmobile and hitched up to the dogs in no time. Kudlah handed the traces to his son.

  “You know how to do this, Kyo. George, here is your chance for a dogsled ride.”

  Eagerly Kyo stepped up onto the sledge. George got on, too, and sat down. Commanding the restless dogs to run, Kyo guided the sledge away from the house. He let the dogs go as fast as they wanted, and he looked back often to check on the seal. When the hole was in sight, Kyo slowed the team and brought the sledge to a halt.

  “I have to unhitch the dogs so Tooky won’t be scared when she wakes up,” Kyo said to his uncle. He jumped down and began to free the sledge.

  “The seal—what do you call her, Tooky?—won’t wake up, Kyo. I’m afraid that the sleeping medicine was too strong for her.” Kyo either didn’t hear his uncle or ignored him. He unhitched the dogs from the sledge but kept them harnessed together.

  “Here,” Kyo said, holding out the traces to his uncle. “I need your help. Take the dogs to the house. Please.”

  Reluctantly George did as the boy asked. He led the dogs away from the sledge but stopped when he’d gone about fifty yards.

  Kyo climbed back into the cage. Cradling the seal’s head in his lap, he sang a song his mother used to sing to him.

  Wake up, sleepyhead,

  Wake up, dreaming one.

  The sky is shining now—

  Come outside and see the sun!

  Three times Kyo sang the verse. On the fourth, Tooky opened her eyes and picked up her head. Kyo nudged her gently toward the cage door. The seal wriggled her body backward through the opening.

  Seeing the animal leave the cage, the dogs and George rushed forward to prevent her escape. Kyo looked up to see the yapping dogs approaching and commanded them to halt. The dogs obeyed, and George stopped behind them.

  On the ice now, Tooky sniffed in different directions as if to get her bearings. Kyo scrambled out of the cage, clapped his mittens together, and laughed. Then he dashed ahead, and Tooky skittered along behind him. George started after them again, but this time he stopped himself and watched them go.

  When they reached Tooky’s hole in the ice, Kyo sat by the edge and faced the seal. She put her nose close to his and gently brushed it with her whiskers.

  Leaning back, Kyo broke the thin layer of newly formed ice easily with the heel of his boot. He stood up and watched Tooky dive into the sea. Then he turned from the hole to follow his uncle, who was already walking back to the house, dog traces in hand, leaving the empty cage behind.

  The snowmobile’s deep growl woke Kyo the next morning. He jumped out of bed and ran to the window.

  “He’s not going yet, Kyo,” said Annawee. “He’s just fetching the cage. But he’s leaving for the city right after breakfast.”

  While the family ate, Kyo watched his uncle through the steam rising from his hotcakes. George joked with his brother-in-law and made plans to send fabric and new scissors to his sister while he ate the biggest stack of hotcakes Kyo had ever seen anybody eat. When George was done he turned to his nephew.

  “I guess I won’t be bringing a seal back to the city zoo after all, Kyo.”

  Kyo dropped his head, ashamed that he’d interfered with his uncle’s dream, but relieved that the seal would remain in the sea.

  “But I remember now what it was like to grow up here as a boy,” he said, smiling at his sister.

  “Thanks for showing me your special hunting spots,” he said to Kudlah. To Kyo he said, “Thanks for giving me a ride on the dogsled I’ll never forget.” Kyo looked up at his uncle and relaxed when he saw the man’s wide grin.

  George stood up, hugged his sister and brother-in-law, and picked up Kyo.

  “You don’t have to leave without a seal,” Kyo told him. He wriggled out of his uncle’s arms, ran to his bed, and reached under his pillow for the finished stone seal carving.

  DEBORAH DAVIS instructed and counseled adolescents in outdoor adventure programs before turning to writing. She has lived and worked among various cultural and ethnic groups across the United States and Canada as well as in South America, the Middle East, and the former Soviet Union. She now lives in Camden, Maine, and often takes her kayak into Penobscot Bay to watch and be watched by seals.