A seasonal spectacle is once again playing out at Shilshole Bay Marina, where dozens of sea lions have taken up temporary residence on the public guest docks—prompting caution from staff and curiosity from onlookers.
Sylvia Kantor, an editor and designer with the UW Puget Sound Institute, recently did a deep dive to learn about why they’re hanging around Ballard again.
By mid-May, the marina counted nearly 120 sea lions sprawled across five docks, with the first arrivals showing up in late April. It’s become an annual occurrence that Shelby Allman, Harbor Operations Supervisor with the Port of Seattle, described as abrupt. “They’re smelly, noisy, and potentially dangerous,” Allman told Kantor, though she expects them to move on soon.
Kantor found that while sea lions have historically gathered on a rock jetty at the south end of the marina, their recent preference for the guest docks may stem from a startling event in 2023. Marina residents reported hearing orca calls reverberating through their boat hulls one calm night. The next morning, evidence suggested a killer whale had taken at least one sea lion near the jetty. Whether coincidence or not, the animals have since shifted to the marina’s more protected docks.
Yellow caution tape now lines the walkways as a reminder for humans to keep their distance from the federally protected marine mammals, which can bite if they feel threatened. Marina staff also try to keep them from blocking main access paths, though the sea lions tend to ignore deterrents like sound devices.
Marine scientist Scott Veirs, who leads the marine mammal work group for the Puget Sound Ecosystem Monitoring Program, says their presence signals a broader ecological success story. “We’re getting to witness the success of a population of sea lions that reached carrying capacity on the outer coast and is pushing up to the north end of its range,” he told Kantor.
Most of the animals are California sea lions, but Veirs has spotted a few Steller sea lions in the mix—larger, blonder, and with a deeper, guttural growl compared to the typical bark.
Their migration north aligns with seasonal food sources. In particular, herring—especially when laden with eggs—has drawn the sea lions from California to the Salish Sea. Veirs calls the protein-packed prey “the turducken of the sea.”
He also points out their hunting prowess, highlighting their ability to track prey in dark water using only the turbulence sensed by their whiskers. “You don’t need light to be that kind of predator,” he said.
This isn’t the first time Ballard has hosted unexpected pinniped guests. In 2021, sea lions temporarily occupied docks near Ray’s Boathouse before moving on. Their recurring presence is a reminder of how changes in the marine ecosystem—and predator behavior—are reshaping the dynamics of shared waterfront spaces.
By early June, most of the animals had moved on, allowing boaters to return to the docks. But according to Veirs, they’re likely to remember the stop. “Once they’ve discovered a haulout that’s useful to them,” he said, “they’ll remember it and may use it more and more over time.”
While Shilshole Marina is fairly tolerant of the sea lions, not everyone wants them congregating en masse. In 2023, the owner of a private pier at Golden Tides Marina installed a corrugated pipe to deter sea lions. (It didn’t work.)
With herring runs rebounding and sea lion numbers on the rise, Ballard’s springtime visitors may well become a yearly tradition.
Photo by Sylvia Kantor
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