There's something deeply human about a walrus, even if we don't see it at first glance.
Picture this: a 3,000-pound creature hauling itself onto an ice floe with all the grace of someone climbing out of a swimming pool after an exhausting day. The walrus collapses in a heap, blubbery and magnificent, surrounded by dozens of its companions. They jostle for space, grumble at each other, and eventually settle into a massive, snoring pile of contentment.
If that doesn't sound relatable, I don't know what does.
The Social Butterflies of the Arctic
Walruses are profoundly social creatures. They live in groups called herds or huddles, and they genuinely seem to need each other. Not just for warmth or protection, but for something deeper. Young walruses stay with their mothers for up to five years, one of the longest parent-child bonds in the marine world. During this time, mothers teach their calves everything: where to find the best clams, how to navigate the currents, which ice floes are safest for napping.
It's a patient, devoted form of parenting that would make any human mother nod in recognition. The teenage years are particularly challenging, as young walruses test boundaries and sometimes wander off on their own adventures, only to return sheepishly when they realize they actually do need mom's wisdom after all.
Masters of Communication
Walruses are loud. Males produce elaborate songs during mating season, a cacophony of bells, gongs, and knocks that can last for hours. Scientists who've studied these vocalizations describe them as surprisingly complex, almost artistic in their structure.
But beyond the mating calls, walruses communicate constantly. They grunt, whistle, and bellow at each other. They're gossipy, argumentative, affectionate. Watch a group of walruses on a beach and you'll witness what looks like endless social drama: territorial disputes, tender moments between friends, the occasional shouting match over a preferred sleeping spot.
They even have what researchers call "touch communication." Walruses regularly nuzzle each other, bump tusks in what appears to be greeting, and use their sensitive whiskers to gently explore their companions' faces. It's intimate and social in a way that feels remarkably familiar.
The Weight of Anxiety
Here's where things get heartbreaking and human: walruses experience stress.
As Arctic ice disappears due to climate change, walruses are forced to haul out on land in increasingly massive numbers. In recent years, tens of thousands have crowded onto small beaches, creating dangerous stampedes when something startles the herd. Young calves get separated from mothers. Individuals get crushed in the panic.
Documentaries have captured walruses in these situations displaying what can only be described as distress. They call out frantically for lost family members. They pace anxiously at the water's edge, clearly torn between the safety of the ocean and the need to rest on land. Some even attempt to climb cliffs in search of quieter resting spots, sometimes falling to their deaths.
It's trauma born from habitat loss, and it mirrors the anxiety humans feel when our stable worlds are upended by forces beyond our control.
The Gift of Presence
But walruses also demonstrate something we could all use more of: the ability to simply be.
When conditions are right, when the ice is stable and the clams are plentiful, walruses are masters of contentment. They'll bask in the sun for hours, occasionally shifting position with a satisfied grunt. They scratch themselves with their flippers. They yawn tremendously. They exist in the moment with an enviable lack of worry about productivity or purpose.
There's a famous video of a walrus being serenaded by a saxophone player at a zoo. The walrus presses its face against the glass, eyes half-closed, swaying gently to the music. It's pure appreciation, uncomplicated joy in experiencing something beautiful.
What They Teach Us
Walruses remind us that being big, ungainly, and a little awkward doesn't preclude grace or dignity. They show us that family bonds matter, that community is essential, that it's okay to be loud when you need to be heard. They demonstrate the importance of touch, of physical closeness with those we care about.
They also reveal the consequences of a changing world, carrying the weight of environmental upheaval in ways that should break our hearts and spur us to action.
Most importantly, perhaps, walruses remind us that survival isn't just about toughness or independence. It's about connection, adaptation, and the courage to keep hauling ourselves onto whatever shore we can find, even when the ice beneath us is melting.
In their whiskered faces and ancient eyes, we might just see a reflection of ourselves: imperfect, vulnerable, doing our best to navigate an uncertain world while surrounded by those we love.
And honestly? That's pretty beautiful.#walrus @Walrus 🦭/acc $WAL
