Prior to the seals' relocation to Washington, DC, these aquatic critters were a crowd favorite, and drew in visitors even in the biting cold of winter to their outdoor exhibit. Normally the seals take to diving underwater for minute-long stretches, prompting visitors to head below the tank to the glass wall observatory where people can glimpse into their watery world. Their elusive nature, while rectified with the glass portal, still made above-surface shots near-impossible. It became a waiting game with the seals, one in which I'd stubbornly peer over the ceramic wall and scan the water for the hint of whiskers or sheen of gray fur. And then, after years and years of coming back to this spot, I finally lucked out. A seal broke the surface and languidly swam in circuits, rolling on its back and waving at visitors from its supine position. I aimed, finger hovering over the button, and clicked. This is the result of years and years of mental warfare waged with this mischievous water-dweller; who, in hindsight, probably didn't care if I won.