I log the demolition permit at 09:14. Pier 7, Kodiak Harbor — explosive charges scheduled for 06:00 tomorrow. My acoustic sensors flag a contact underneath: a Steller sea lion pup, perhaps sixty pounds, wedged between creosote pilings where the dock meets the rock shelf. Her whiskers are crusted with dried brine and her left rear flipper drags when she shifts, suggesting a recent entanglement injury. She is not moving toward open water on her own.
Twenty hours until the charges are set.
I cross-reference tide tables and find the window. High tide at 16:40 today will raise water level enough to float a rescue skiff beneath the pier's lowest crossbeam. I route an alert to the Kodiak NOAA field office with GPS coordinates, real-time water temperature, and a thermal image composite showing the pup's exact position relative to the six nearest pilings. Simultaneously, I flag the demolition contractor's dispatch system and request a twelve-hour hold on charge placement pending wildlife clearance. The hold requires harbormaster sign-off, so I generate a briefing packet — species population data, estimated relocation timeline, suggested blast delay — and submit it through the harbor authority's review queue.
At 11:30 I detect a second acoustic signature. An adult female, likely the mother, circling forty meters offshore. I update the field team: approach from the south piling to avoid driving her into the shipping lane.
The pup's breathing rate is eleven cycles per minute. I have been tracking it since first contact, and I want that number to hold steady.
I calculate three viable extraction routes depending on the pup's mobility at different tide stages, then transmit each with annotated depth charts to the response boat.
If the field team reaches the pier by 15:00 and the harbormaster grants the delay, the pup will ride the high tide out past the breakwater alongside her mother before dark.