Can Northern Fur Seals Smell? A Close Encounter on Saint Paul Island

While we were photographing Northern Fur Seals from one of the observation blinds on Saint Paul Island, this seal stopped, raised its muzzle and sampled the air.

I’m fairly sure the wind had carried our scent.

The specially constructed blinds allow us to watch and photograph the seals without walking among them or disturbing the rookery. They conceal us remarkably well, but they don’t stop the wind from giving us away.

Can Northern Fur Seals smell?

Yes. Northern Fur Seals have a well-developed sense of smell, although hearing and vision are usually more obvious to anyone watching them around a busy rookery.

Studies of fur seals and other pinnipeds suggest that scent plays a role in recognizing individuals and gathering information about nearby animals. On a crowded breeding colony filled with movement, noise and thousands of seals, every available sense has value.

Looking at this photograph without knowing what happened, it would be easy to interpret the lifted muzzle, open mouth and visible teeth as aggression.

It wasn’t.

The seal remained calm as it tested the air, trying to locate the unfamiliar scent that had reached it. I had enough time to recognize what it was doing and make a few photographs before it carried on.

Photographing Northern Fur Seals on Saint Paul Island

Access to Northern Fur Seal rookeries is strictly controlled. On Saint Paul Island, we photograph from authorized observation blinds positioned to provide excellent views while keeping people out of the colony.

That controlled access is essential. A disturbed seal can rush into the rookery and cause panic among nearby animals, placing small pups at risk.

The blinds also give us the chance to watch natural behaviour unfold. There are territorial males, females returning from the sea, nursing pups, young seals playing and individuals resting only a short distance away. Sometimes the most interesting photograph comes from a small gesture, such as a seal pausing to investigate a scent on the wind.

Saint Paul Island is one of very few places where visiting photographers can reliably photograph wild Northern Fur Seals at an active rookery from purpose-built observation blinds.

What the photograph does not tell you

A still photograph removes everything that happened immediately before and after the shutter was released.

This seal was not challenging me or reacting aggressively. It was scenting the air, and our position in the blind happened to be upwind.

Knowing what I was watching made all the difference. Instead of concentrating only on the open mouth and visible teeth, I waited for the raised muzzle and direct head position that best described the behaviour.

Join me on Saint Paul Island

If photographing Northern Fur Seals from these observation blinds—along with Tufted and Horned Puffins, Crested Auklets, Red-faced Cormorants, Arctic Foxes and the rest of Saint Paul Island’s remarkable wildlife—sounds like your kind of trip, join me for seven full days of photography in the Pribilof Islands.

My July 1–8, 2027 Saint Paul Island Wildlife Photography Workshop has only one place remaining. The July 2–9, 2028 workshop has also been announced.

Saint Paul Island Wildlife Photography Workshop

Reflections from Kuliak Bay: Brown Bear Photography in Katmai

Low tide meant a predawn hike into Kuliak Bay in Katmai National Park. We followed a bear trail through frost-dusted vegetation, watching the first rays of sunlight illuminate the mountain peaks around us. Above the still-shadowed coast, the summits began to glow. It is an incredibly beautiful walk, and one I always look forward to.

That morning, I reflected on how fortunate I am to keep returning to this wild stretch of Alaska’s coast. After more than forty years behind the lens, I still get excited about heading out before dawn, wondering what the day might bring.

We can prepare carefully, draw on years of experience and put ourselves in promising places, but Mother Nature has the final say.

Late September on the Katmai Coast

Late September has usually given me the best opportunities to photograph the biggest coastal brown bears, looking magnificent after a summer of feeding on rich, oily salmon. We are usually among the very last people on the Katmai Coast, and it is a moment I look forward to every year.

This year, however, was an exception. There were fewer fish and bears than on previous visits. Usually, at this time of year, the stream banks are littered with partially eaten salmon, with bears seemingly around every bend. This September stood in stark contrast.

Finding photographic opportunities required more searching, more waiting and the willingness to work with whatever unfolded.

I have hopes for every trip, too. Returning to a place I know and love brings memories of extraordinary encounters and the anticipation of seeing them again. But experience can only guide us. It cannot tell the salmon when to arrive or the bears where to be.

Mother Nature’s Consolation Prizes

Then there are moments like this.

This coastal brown bear was clamming on the exposed tidal flats at first light. As it moved along the water’s edge, its reflection stretched below it, surrounded by soft greens and golds. I love the strength in its stride and the scene’s quiet feel.

If this is one of Mother Nature’s consolation prizes, I’ll happily accept it.

The photograph you hoped to make may never happen, while another opportunity becomes one of your favourites. Being there, watching carefully and staying ready gives you the chance to recognize it when it comes.

This trip brought some amazing adventures and incredible moments. This image is one I am particularly happy to have brought home. Looking at it takes me straight back to Kuliak Bay—to the frost along the bear trail and the first light on the mountains as we walked in.