The Beaches of Lukannon

I met my mates in the morning (and oh but I am old!)

Where roaring on the ledges the summer groundswell rolled.

I heard them lift the chorus that drowned the breakers' song--

The Beaches of Lukannon--two million voices strong!

Thus, according to Rudyard Kipling, sang the great sleek Callorhinus alascanus, the fur seal, of his summer home in the Bering Sea, the barren volcanic islands of the Pribilof Archipelago. To these islands each May the males come first, from their winter haunts in the north Pacific--huge, scarred 600-lb. bulls, full-coated three-year-old "bachelors." By the time the females arrive from the south with their pups, weeks later, the bulls have battled themselves ragged and bloody fighting for places to set up their harems on the rocky ledges of the rookery. Each bull takes some 40 wives, guards them until their new pups are born, then spends a foodless, sleepless month mating and battling for his wives. By September the seals have begun to leave the islands, by November all have gone.

The song of pleasant stations beside the salt lagoons,

The song of blowing squadrons that shuffled down the dunes,

The song of midnight dances that churned the sea to flame--

The Beaches of Lukannon--before the sealers came!

When the Pribilofs were bought by the U.S. as part of Alaska sealing was a profitable industry. By 1910, through leasing sealing rights on the islands, the U.S. had made $9,473,996, nearly one and a half times the price of all Alaska. And by 1911 the seal herds had shrunk from 2,000,000 to a scant 125,000. Then an International Convention was signed. Pelagic sealing-- hunting seals in the water--was ended. The U.S. supervised seal hunting on the Pribilofs, turned over 15% of the proceeds to Japan, 15% of the furs to Canada. Since then the seals have multiplied to 2,300,000.

The Beaches of Lukannon--the winter-wheat so tall--

The dripping, crinkled lichens, and the sea-fog drenching all!

The platforms of our playground, all shining smooth and worn!

The Beaches of Lukannon--the home where we were born!

Fortnight ago, after a year's notice, Japan ended the Convention, will presumably begin hunting seals in the sea. Reason given: seals were eating squid and devilfish sought by Japan's fishing fleet. Whatever the reason, it portends decimation or extermination for the seals. At the Pribilof killing grounds only the bachelors are slaughtered for the prime fur. In pelagic sealing hunters often shoot females with pups, often lose four out of five of the carcasses.

I meet my mates in the morning, a broken, scattered band.

Men shoot us in the water and club us on the land;

Men drive us to the Salt House like silly sheep and tame

And still we sing Lukannon--before the sealers came!!

Last week the U.S. made a last effort to save the seals. From Savannah a Department of the Interior schooner sailed on a two-to-five year voyage. Scientists aboard hoped to track the migration of 10,000 young seals branded on the Pribilofs, to find out whether they did cruise Japan's shores and eat her fish. Whatever the results of the study, it seemed a slim hope in a world where treaties do not last long enough to protect men or seals.

Wheel down, wheel down to southward!

Oh, Gooverooska go!

And tell the Deep-Sea Viceroys the story of our woe;

Ere, empty as the shark's egg, the tempest flings ashore,

The Beaches of Lukannon shall know their sons no more!

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