Lord of the Jungle: Malibu's First Mayor

Author Edgar Rice Burroughs, the creator of Tarzan, and Malibu's first honorary mayor, works  at his desk in his La Costa Beach study in this photo c. 1934. All photos in this article are from the official Edgar Rice Burroughs website, tarzan.org, unless otherwise noted, and are used with permission.

He longed for the little cabin and the sun-kissed sea—for the cool interior of the well-built house, and for the never-ending wonders of the many books.” 

― Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes, 1912

In 1991 the City of Malibu incorporated and Walt Keller, the recipient of the highest number of votes in the newly created municipality’s first city council election, was named Mayor of Malibu, but he wasn’t the first person to receive the title. That honor goes to Tarzan creator Edgar Rice Burroughs, who was named unofficial Mayor of Malibu by his neighbors on La Costa Beach in 1932.

Burroughs was a literary phenomenon. He wrote dozens of bestselling pulp fiction stories set in exotic locales and filled with noble savages, aristocratic heroes, damsels in distress and despicable villains. His output included 25 Tarzan novels and 10 set on Mars, in addition to stories about a hidden world full of prehistoric wonders at the center of the earth, travels to Venus—which the science of the era envisioned as a jungle planet, westerns, historical romances and a series of contemporary adventures involving an alcoholic prizefighter.

Tarzan first appeared in 1912 in the pages of All Story Magazine. By 1914, the story was a best-selling novel. The image on the left is Tarzan's first ever appearance, the cover on the right is from the first Canadian edition of the novel, published in 1914. Both images are from Wikipedia.

Tarzan and John Carter of Mars, Burroughs’ best known fictional creations, both celebrated their 100th anniversary in 2012. Unfortunately, John Carter, the Civil War captain who finds himself mysteriously transported to the red planet, tanked on the big screen in director Andrew Stanton’s $350+ million film “John Carter,” produced by Walt Disney Pictures in 2012. 

Delaware artist Frank Schoonover's evocative art nouveau cover for the 1917 first edition of A Princess of Mars sets the tone for the reader. Like Tarzan, the first Mars adventure‚ originally entitled Under the Moons of Mars. debuted in The All Story in 1912. Credited as the original space opera and the inspiration for everything from Flash Gordon to Star Wars, this work is reportedly the first novel Burroughs' prepared for publication. A Princess of Mars was written in 1911, although it wasn't published in book form until 1917, three years after the first Tarzan novel was published. Image: Wikipedia.

However, Burroughs’ other major creation has been a multimedia moneymaking powerhouse for over a hundred years. The Internet Movie Database lists an astonishing 89 film versions of Tarzan’s adventures, ranging from a 1918 silent series starring Elmo Lincoln, to a film directed by David Yates scheduled to be released in 2016 and starring Swedish-born actor Alexander Skarsgard in the title role.

Silent film star Elmo Lincoln debuted as the title character in the first film version of Tarzan of the Apes in 1918. Here's a theater card from the first film series, showing Lincoln looking remarkably like the Tarzan depicted on the cover of The All Story Magazine in 1912. Image: Wikipedia

Tarzan has also had a long and successful career as a comic book character, the star of numerous TV shows, radio programs and cartoons, and has earned a place as a globally recognized cultural icon.

Burroughs was born on Sept. 1, 1875, in Chicago. In 1900, he married Emma Hulbert. The couple had three children. The family lived in Oak Park, Illinois, during the period when Burroughs' career as a writer began.

Tarzan the Ape Man, written in Burroughs' spare time, was published in serial form in 1912, swiftly followed by A Princess of Mars, the same year. By 1919 Burroughs was a successful author, and he and Emma and their three children were established on a ranch in a part of the San Fernando Valley that would come to be known as Tarzana in Burroughs’ honor.

Edgar Rice Burroughs' La Costa Beach property, photographed by an itinerant photographer in the mid 1930s.

“Edgar Rice Burroughs, author of the Tarzan stories and daily contributor of the Tarzan picture in The Times, has bought a beach home at Malibu,” an L.A. Times “exclusive” ran on Aug. 9, 1931. “The Burroughs’ home at Tarzana will be maintained only for the winter and early spring months. In the beach home is a specially fitted study where the author will continue to turn out his popular stories.”

According to the Los Angeles Evening Herald, Burroughs purchased a seven-room Mediterranean-style house with 40 feet of ocean frontage in August of 1931 for $25,000. It was one of the earliest houses on La Costa Beach.

May Rindge, the last owner of the Topanga Malibu Sequit Rancho, sold La Costa Beach in 1926 for $6 million to real estate developer Harold Ferguson to help defray the cost of litigation over government plans to open the rancho to public access. Ferguson planned the La Costa Beach Club, development streets and parcels, built a bunch of fake Spanish mission ruins to add a bit of Ye Olde California atmosphere, and began selling lots.

La Costa Beach in 1939. Burroughs' property is visible in the right corner. This image is from a real estate brochure in the Malibu Historical Photograph Collection at the Pepperdine Library.

Today, La Costa Beach is part of the Great Wall of Malibu—wall-to-wall beach houses that almost entirely block the public's view of the ocean from the highway, but when Burroughs moved to Malibu there were only a few houses and a nearly 360-degree vista of unspoiled beach and mountains.

The 1930s were a prolific decade for Burroughs. ERBzine, “the official Edgar Rice Burroughs Tribute Webzine” lists fifteen titles that were published during the period when Burroughs was active in Malibu, including, Tarzan and the City of Gold, 1931; Pirates of Venus, 1931; Tarzan and the Lion Man, 1933; Swords of Mars, 1933; Tarzan’s Quest, 1934; Tarzan the Magnificent, 1935; and Back to the Stone Age, 1935. 

Lost on Venus, published as a serial in 1933, was reportedly written in Malibu. The original cover art by Paul Stahr—and the entire story—can be found at Project Gutenberg Australia.

“Lost on Venus,” serialized in the publication Argosy in 1933, appears to have been written at the Malibu residence. Here’s a thrilling synopsis:

Life on Venus had not been easy for Earthman Carson Napier. All of his courage and cunning were needed just to stay alive on the world of deadly monsters and even deadlier men. But Carson was determined to do more than survive. He had sworn to deliver the princess Duare to her treetop kingdom of Vepaja—even though a thousand miles of unmapped territory lay between him and his lofty goal. From the treacherous Room of the Seven Doors to the horror of Kormor, City of the Dead, attacked by the beast-men and imprisoned by the ruthless scientists, the reluctant hero battled his way across a world of unimaginable perils...

Here's illustrator Frank Frazetta's vision of some of those "unimaginable perils" from a much later edition of Lost on Venus, published by Ace.

In 1932, MGM released the first Tarzan "talkie," Tarzan the Ape Man, starring Johnny Weissmuller and Maureen O’Hara. The film, directed by Woodbridge Strong Van Dyke—had a big budget—$1 million. 

The film was a huge success, spawning numerous sequels. And while Burroughs appears not to have liked MGM's interpretation of Tarzan, he was a savvy entrepreneur in addition to being a prolific and imaginative writer, and successfully fought to hold onto the rights to his intellectual property. 

In September of 1932, the Tarzana house was listed for sale, and Burroughs announced that he planned to move permanently to Malibu.

Archival photos from the ERB website show the interior of the original La Costa beach house. 

A letter dated Dec. 31, 1932, published in Brother Men: the Correspondence of Edgar Rice Burroughs and Herbert T. Weston, describes the construction of a second beach house adjacent to the first. The new structure, larger than the original residence “completely hides the old house.”

The Associated Press, on Sept. 14, 1933, reported: “Mr. Edgar Rice Burroughs, novelist, is the new mayor of Malibu, fashionable movie beach resort.”

Burroughs relaxes in his Malibu study with his much-loved sheep dog at his feet. I was delighted to find this photo because I was told years ago by a former longtime La Costa resident that the author was remembered as an energetic and genial man who loved the beach and walked and swam in all weathers, often accompanied by an enormous old English sheepdog, who was the bane of the Burroughs’ family housekeeper, owing to a coat of hair that could transport half the beach’s sand into the house.

Oak Leaves, the Oak Park newspaper, announced the news on September 26, 1933: “A recent signal honor for Mr. Burroughs came a few days ago when he was elected at a town meeting—the "Mayor of Malibu," a fashionable ocean resort inhabited almost entirely by moving picture people and within a short distance of Beverly Hills, California.”

A clipping from the September 26, 1933, issue of Oak Leaves from the archive at tarzan.org.

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The title of mayor was purely unofficial and the duties appear to have consisted entirely of presiding over beach parties. Burroughs reportedly threw himself into seaside living with enthusiasm.

An article in the March 1938 issue of Fortune Magazine states: "Mr. Burroughs lives at Malibu among film people. Here he does much of his writing, rides horseback, plays tennis, and indulges in private flying, which he took up at the age of fifty-eight." 

Burroughs’ time in Malibu was one of personal turmoil and transition but largely uneventful in terms of local historical events. However, the author provides the only known written account from Malibu of the devastating Long Beach Earthquake, March 10, 1933. The official Burroughs’ website, tarzan.com, summarizes the incident:

Ed and dinner guests are sitting in the Malibu residence study waiting for dinner when a major earthquake strikes just before 6 p.m. (The serious Long Beach Earthquake). Severe shaking and a ceiling that appears to move in circles send them out to Roosevelt Highway. The cook/server is most upset at the meal being ruined, having his table setting messed up and having to turn off the gas.

Despite continual aftershocks they manage to have dinner at 10 p.m. [Burroughs] counts at least 35 aftershocks over the next few days. Ed found the first shock to be rather thrilling but he finds the long string of aftershocks to be very hard to adjust to. 

An archival photo from the USGS earthquake site of damage caused by the 6.4 1933 Long Beach Earthquake. This was Jefferson Junior High School in Long Beach. Burroughs' wrote the only known account of the earthquake in Malibu.

Burroughs divorced his wife in 1934, married actress Florence Gilbert Dearholt in 1935, and moved to Hawaii in 1940. The marriage didn't last, but Burroughs remained in Hawaii. He was in Honolulu during the Pearl Harbor attack. He received permission to become a war correspondent, despite being in his late 60s, and spent the war years in the Pacific. It’s unclear when Burroughs sold the La Costa property, but he returned to Tarzana after the war. ERB Inc., incorporated by Burroughs in 1926, still maintains an office on a small corner of what was once Burroughs’ 200-acre ranch.

One of Burroughs' two La Costa houses was bought by Elmer and Peggy Callen in the 1960s, and Peggy, a passionate advocate for environmental issues and a champion of Malibu cityhood, came within inches of being elected Malibu's first official mayor in 1976, during the community's second bid for incorporation. The measure lost by just 108 votes. The house is still there. It's been remodeled, but it hasn't yet been replaced by a mega-mansion like many of its neighbors. 

Here is Burroughs' stretch of La Costa Beach as it appears today in Google Street View. 

Burroughs died in 1950. He is regarded today as one of the 20th century’s most successful authors, and his most popular works have remained continuously in print. It seems appropriate that the honorary title of first mayor of Malibu goes to a legendary writer, one who forged his own enduring mythology. 

Edgar Rice Burroughs examines a copy of Tarzan and the Lion Man in yet another image from the wonderful collection of Burroughs family photographs at Tarzan.org. The book was one of titles published during the years that Burroughs owned his La Costa Beach home.

The quote at the beginning of this article is from author Edgar Rice Burroughs’ best known book, Tarzan of the Apes, but the sentiment was one Burroughs appears to have shared with his creation. In Malibu, for a little while, at least, he had all of those things.

Suzanne Guldimann

25 February 2015

Edgar Rice Burroughs bookplate, preserved in the Library of Congress.

Winter Birds

The gregarious and fearless yellow-rumped warbler is one of the most common Malibu winter garden birds, but it's just one of dozens of seasonal avian residents. All photos © 2015 S. Guldimann

Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn,
Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers,
And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers;
A poet's face asleep in this grey morn.
Now in the midst of the old world forlorn
A mystic child is set in these still hours.
I keep this time, even before the flowers,
Sacred to all the young and the unborn.
—Alice Meynell, In February


There are a lot of poems about February. Many are bleak and full of snow, and often the poet mourns the absence of bird and blossom. It makes me feel inexplicably guilty, since quite a lot of those lamented birds missing from there are actually here for the winter.

February in Malibu is a paradise for birds, and birdwatchers often find they have a front row seat for the colorful panoply of winter migrants right in their own garden. Here's a look at some of the winter visitors spotted here at the Malibu Post.

The American robin usually arrives around Christmas and heads north again as soon as warmer weather arrives.

The spotted towhee is sometimes mistaken for a robin. This year-round Malibu resident is smaller, darker and shyer than the robin and only has red on its sides, not its breast. Those long claws visible in the photograph help the towhee dig for grubs and other treats. Ours like to dig up the bulbs of the oxalis flowers. This towhee is feasting on the fruit of an ornamental pear tree.

I often see Western bluebirds in the more remote parts of the Santa Monica Mountains, and especially in Malibu Creek State Park, but we've had an unusual number of Western bluebirds this winter here at Point Dume, more than I've ever seen. I hope that's a good sign that the population, which dwindled to almost nothing in this area during the 1980s and '90s, is rebounding. 

The dark-eyed junco used to be a winter-only visitor, but last year these gregarious garden birds decided to stay all summer, nesting near our front gate and making a ticking sound like a Geiger counter whenever anyone went in or out. I'll be interested to see if they stay or go this spring. This little bird has distinctive white-striped tail feathers that are often the only part of the bird one catches a glimpse of as it darts past.

The lesser goldfinch is a year round resident, but we only see them in the garden during the winter, when they come to forage for the seeds of the Mexican evening primrose plants and other wildflowers that have been left to go to seed. 

The oak titmouse is a favorite winter bird in our garden. This tiny bird is fierce and feisty, scolding anyone who comes too close. Although we have lots of small gray birds and they can often be hard to tell apart, the oak titmouse is unmistakable. It's the only solid gray species in this area with a peak of feathers on its head.

Here's one of the aforementioned hard to identify gray birds. I think this one is a female hermit warbler. The male has a much flashier black and yellow design, a little bit like the yellow-rumped warbler, but more vivid, the female is less conspicuous, but a regular winter visitor at the birdbath.

There's nothing inconspicuous about the western kingbird. This large gray and primrose yellow flycatcher is an aerial acrobat—I once saw one snatch a swallowtail butterfly out of the air just inches above the windshield of my car, and then reverse itself midair and swoop up to the nearest telephone line to eat its prize. Kingbirds have a loud, distinctive metallic call and aren't afraid of anything. They've been know to dive bomb hawks and crows and will let you know in no uncertain terms if you stray to close to their territory, snapping their beaks and attempting to intimidate the unwary trespasser. Some kingbirds reside in Southern California throughout the year, but ours appear to be winter migrants, most often seen in February and March. However, this species seems to thrive in the urban setting and in Malibu, at least, they seem to be increasing in number.

The western meadowlark is one of our shyest winter residents. It's easy to recognize this bird in spring by its beautiful call, which you can listen to here. In winter, the usually solitary meadowlark gathers into flocks, but they are almost always silent and can be remarkably hard to spot. Although the front of the bird is bright yellow and marked with a heraldic-style black chevron, they keep their bright colors carefully hidden, presumably to avoid standing out to predators (and photographers).

It may seem an unlikely candidate for favorite winter garden bird, but for me, the swift black wings and the hoarse cry that announces the arrival of the winter ravens embodies the essence of the season. People often confuse crows with ravens, but no one mistakes a raven for a crow: they are much larger and more dignified than their smaller, more numerous corvid cousins. Crows are smart, but ravens are reportedly one of the most intelligent bird species on earth, with complex problem-solving skills and long memories. Most of the year, if you want to find ravens, you have to look in the less developed corners of the Santa Monica Mountains, but in winter they come down to the coast and haunt gardens and backyards. Their presence infuriates the crows, but the ravens don't care. I love to watch their graceful, acrobatic flights, which sometimes involve roles and dives and the raven equivalent of the Immelmann turn—upside down and around. I love to hear their rough, wild cry. We may not have the snow and the dark and the isolation of the northern winter, but I hear it every year in that cry and in the rush of wings.

This post contains a small sample of Malibu's winter birds. It features just the ones that held still long enough for me to snap a photo, recording their passage. 

I recently read a State Coastal Conservancy report that described Malibu, the Santa Monica Mountains, and the entire South Coast region as "considered to be one of the 25 most important 'hotspots' of biological diversity on earth." 

Birdwatchers who would like to help document the local bird population are encouraged to take part in this year's Great Backyard Bird Count, February 13-16. The event, cosponsored by Cornell University's Bird Lab and the Audubon Society, attracts participants from around the world. Last year, nearly 150,000  checklists were submitted, recording nearly 18 million birds and 4,296 species. There were 263 species just in Los Angeles County, and the Malibu Lagoon and Point Dume State Park were among the top bird hot spots. More information is available here.

While cameras and binoculars are helpful, all that is required to participate in the bird count is the time to go out and look, and it's always worth taking the time to look. You never know what you might see. 

Happy birdwatching!

Suzanne Guldimann

7 February 2015

An osprey glides across the Malibu sky at sunset.

Hic Sunt Dracones—Here There Be Dragons

It doesn't actually say "here there be dragons," but Swedish mapmaker Olaus Magnus' "Carta Marina," created between 1527-39, warns of the perils of straying into undiscovered country with vivid and creative depictions of a strange and terrifying assortment of sea monsters.

We were talking of DRAGONS, Tolkien and I

In a Berkshire bar. The big workman

Who had sat silent and sucked his pipe

All the evening, from his empty mug

With gleaming eye glanced towards us:

"I seen 'em myself!" he said fiercely.

—C.S. Lewis

“I do not care what comes after; I have seen the dragons on the wind of morning.” 

—Ursula K. Le Guin

Hic Sunt dracones—here there be dragons, the words that once warned that the explorer was venturing off the map and into the unknown, still have the power to conjure marvels, even in an era of information overload where the monsters that lurked at the edge of the map have been vanquished to the realm of fiction. There may be maps to everything on every iPhone, Pad and Pod, but we are still drawn to the unknown. And it's comforting to know that while there may not be dragons there are still marvels.

Even the most jaded and world-weary citizen of the 21st century might find it easy to believe in dragons at sunset on a winter evening on the beach in Malibu, when there's a good chance of catching a glimpse of dolphins, sea lions and migrating gray whales.

The Bay Area and the Central Coast have a long tradition of sea monster sightings. Even the Channel Islands have their share—most notably a Loch Ness Monster-like creature off San Clemente Island, but for some reason, Malibu seems sadly deficient in the sea monster department (except for the occasional oar fish), which is surprising, considering the abundance of marine mammals that congregate off shore.

However, while one may know perfectly well that what one is looking at must be a marine mammal and not some strange cryptid, getting a good enough look to tell what it is can be a challenge. All of our marine mammal species can look remarkably like something that would be right at home among the sea monsters on the map at the top of the page.

Gray whales—looking as mysterious and massive as any of the sea monsters on the edges of Olaus Magnus' map—congregate in the shallow water of Westward Beach at sunset on a January evening. All photographs © 2015 S. Guldimann

We share our stretch of coast with an amazing assortment of marine mammals, including sea lions; harbor seals; Northern elephant seals; bottlenose dolphins, Pacific white-sided dolphins, Risso's dolphins; common dolphins; orca; gray whales; fin whales; humpback whales; minke whales; and blue whales, the largest animal on earth. 

The presence of these species is one of the reasons why much of the Malibu coast is designated an area of special biological concern and why the waters off Point Dume are now part of California's network of underwater reserves, officially known as Marine Protected Areas. 

Most of the larger marine mammals keep to the deep water well away from shore, but migrating gray whales often stay near the coast on the way to and from their breeding grounds in Baja. 

I wrote an article on the winter migration for a recent issue of the Malibu Surfside News. It wasn't my finest hour as a journalist. I cut out a section on the comparative size of the different whale species and ended up saying that the fin whale is smaller than the gray whale. It most definitely isn't. 

The fin whale is second only to the great blue whale in size. According to the American Cetacean Society, fin whales can grow to more than 80 feet long and weigh as much as 70 tons. Blues can grow to more than 100 feet in length and weigh more than 100 tons. Gray whales, in comparison, grow to a mere 40-50 feet in length and weigh an average of 30-40 tons.

A gray whale surfaces near shore at Zuma. 

Grays may be small compared to other cetaceans, but a 50-foot-whale surfacing just beyond the surfbreak is an awe-inspiring sight, and a surprisingly frequent one along the shore in Malibu from December through April.

That's a gray whale calf spouting, and not a Malibu species of the Loch Ness Monster, despite appearances.

Gray whales are the most commonly observed nearshore whale species, but fin whales, humpbacks and even blues can occasionally be spotted with the help of a pair of binoculars. Blue whales and fin whales exhale a cone-shaped spout of water that can be 30 feet high, while humpbacks produce a roundish, 10-foot-tall spout. Looking for the tell-tale blast of white water is often the easiest way to spot whales. 

Whales can be hard to spot, despite their size. Looking for spouts can be the best way to locate them. 

Sometimes the presence of sea birds and dolphins indicates there are whales in the area. Any disturbance in the water is worth a closer look with binoculars or a zoom lens.

Two gray whales followed by a triangular fin—evidence of a dolphin escort. 

Many dolphin species also prefer deep water. It's rare to encounter Dall's porpoise or Risso's dolphin near shore, but both species can be found off Point Dume where the continental shelf drops off into deep water. 

This unfortunate Risso's dolphin washed up dead just north of Leo Carrillo State Park. I've never seen a live one close to shore, although they are common in the deep water further out, where they gather in large pods.

Dall's porpoise—a compact, small member of the dolphin family with black and white coloring that looks a little like the orca's—seems to prefer cold water and reportedly only turns up in winter.

Risso's dolphins are large (10-13 feet long), blunt-nosed dolphins that also go by the wonderful name "grampus."  They are often seen in the channel, where they gather in large pods, often with other dolphin and whale species, but they almost never come close to shore.

The most frequently encountered dolphins at Malibu's beaches are the bottlenose dolphin, the common dolphin and the Pacific white-sided dolphin. White-sided dolphins are usually seen farther out, but they sometimes come fairly close to shore. However, the common and bottlenose dolphins will swim right into the surf and are often seen along the coast just yards from the beach. 

Although these look like they ought to be Pacific white-sided dolphins, they are common dolphins. The common dolphin is widely distributed and can be found around the world. It's the dolphin that is Apollo's sacred messenger in Greek mythology. It's also sacred to the Chumash people. We do occasionally get a visit from another, much larger, member of the dolphin family that also has distinctive white patches—the orca, but confirmed sightings are relatively rare.

Here's a helpful size and shape comparison of the bottlenose and common dolphin, borrowed from Wikipedia. The top dolphin (image created by Kuzon) is the larger, longer, bottlenose dolphin. The bottom image (created by Chris Huh) shows a common dolphin.

It can often be hard to identify what one is seeing. In this case, the size of the animal in comparison to the surfers, and the shape of its fin indicate this is a bottlenose dolphin.

Here's the same bottlenose dolphin with what appears to be a smaller common dolphin. 

The most conspicuous marine mammal in Malibu has to be the sea lion. These gregarious, intelligent, noisy and fun-loving pinnipeds are a favorite here at the Malibu Post. One of my first articles for the blog was about them, and I never get tired of observing them.

Harbor seals and Northern elephant seals also occasionally visit the Malibu coast. Adult elephant seals are massive—males can be 16 feet long and weigh more than 5000 pounds. They spend much of their lives in the open ocean and are rarely seen near the shore in Malibu. 

However, young pups are occasionally spotted on the beach here, either resting or sometimes in distress (injured or ill marine mammals should be reported to the California Wildlife Center's marine mammal rescue team—310-458-WILD, and donations are urgently needed this time of year to supply rescued animals with medical care and the huge quantities of fish they need to eat during recovery).

A trio of sea lions play in the surf of Point Dume. Surfers may think they invented the laid-back, fun-loving California beach lifestyle, but the sea lions were already the living embodiment of that sun-and-fun philosophy long before the first human surfer arrived on the scene.

Harbor seals are less numerous in Malibu than their sea lion cousins, but there are usually a few around, especially in western Malibu. Elephant and harbor seals lack the powerful front fins that enable sea lions to move quickly and efficiently on land and are rarely seen on the shore—Malibu's beaches probably aren't secluded enough. Like sea lion and dolphins, harbor seals are intelligent and curious and like to check out what the swimmers or divers are up to. They've also been known to drop in on surfers. 

Elephant and harbor seals are sleek, strong underwater swimmers and are hard to spot in the water. If what you are watching is leaping out of the water like a mad acrobat, or popping up to watch you watching it, it's probably a sea lion.

Could this, at last, be a sighting of an elusive Malibu sea monster? It looks like a fairly convincing sea serpent, the sort that wraps sinuous coils around ships and squeeze them to bits.

Alas, this Loch Ness Monster look-alike is just part of the Point Dume sea lion colony, on their way home to the rookery for the night. 

The only authentic sea monster I know of in Malibu is this one, and it swims not in the sea but in my friends' Point Dume garden.

The American Cetacean Society offers all kinds of useful information on whales and dolphins, and the Los Angeles chapter, which is currently seeking whale census volunteers, provides links to whale watching trips, daily updates on the census, and much more on its website. Both sites are well worth a visit.

There are all kinds of opportunities to learn about the things that once existed beyond the edges of the map and that even today we are only just beginning to understand. One of the best opportunities is simply taking the time to go and look. Who knows what one might see? 

Suzanne Guldimann
21 January 2015

A mama and baby gray whale rest in the calm water off Point Dume.