(CNN) — Without so much as a wave of his flipper, Neil the boisterous young elephant seal departed Tasmania this week, leaving behind a legion of fans – and questions about what happens when he gets even bigger.
When Rebecca Thomson heard that Neil was back in town in June, she had rushed to the beach to see one of the Australian state’s best-known celebrities.
Then Neil, with all his 2,200 blubbery pounds, began following her.
“It’s like this giant slug coming at you,” laughed Thomson, who lives in the Tasmanian capital Hobart, and made sure to keep a safe distance from Neil. “It was really exciting and intriguing, and yes, definitely a bit intimidating, too.”
All southern elephant seals come on land a few times a year to breed, shed their fur, and interact with each other in gatherings of the otherwise solitary animals. But while most of his peers do this on remote subantarctic islands, Neil chooses to hang out with humans in the Australian island state during his seasonal visits – and wreak havoc.
After following Thomson to the parking lot, Neil began rocking a van, as bystanders laughed and the hapless driver tried to extract his vehicle. Other videos show him blocking roads; slamming into street signposts; peering through residents’ screen doors; and happily flattening traffic cones with his bulbous body. (He hasn’t, to date, threatened any humans.)
His stardom has only grown with each visit, winning him enamored fans around the world, and even a theme song. “He’s more ungovernable than ever,” one video caption read on a TikTok fanpage with more than 1.7 million followers.
“He features in advertising, local insurance ads, so yeah, he’s definitely become an icon,” Thomson said.
However, officials warned his virality had drawn too much attention, potentially jeopardizing his safety – a problem set to become worse as he grows in size and his online popularity skyrockets.
A solitary seal
Neil’s story began in 2020, when he was born off the southeast coast of Tasmania, not far from Hobart.
This, already, was unusual. Most southern elephant seals in this region are born on the uninhabited Macquarie Island, about 1,500 kilometers (932 miles) south of Hobart, and return to the same site to breed and give birth, said Clive McMahon, a research ecologist at the Sydney Institute of Marine Science.
But Neil’s mother may have been young and inexperienced and didn’t make it back to Macquarie Island on time. She was ready to give birth, and the Tasmanian beaches were right there – so out popped Neil.
Elephant seals “return to the place where they were born. So Neil is doing exactly what we would expect a good elephant seal to do… it just happens to be that he’s doing his normal behavior in a strange place,” said McMahon, who also lives in Hobart.
In the last four decades, as far as scientists know, only a handful of southern elephant seals have been born in Tasmania and survived, according to the Department of Natural Resources and Environment Tasmania (NRE Tas). Residents in Tasmania’s southern coastal towns now see Neil a few times a year on shore, where he’s legally protected as a vulnerable species.
There’s his molting season in December and January, when seals shed their old fur and outer layer of skin; breeding season, which takes place from September through November; and the enigmatic “mid-year haul-out,” which scientists still don’t fully understand.
During the haul-out from April through August, in the Tasmanian winter, elephant seals will gather and interact with each other – especially young males who play-fight and spar. Elephant seals are polygamous and have harems, and the strongest male seals can breed with dozens, or up to 100, female seals. This haul-out period is a chance for young males to “learn the behaviors that they’ll need when they start competing,” McMahon said.
But, alas, there are no other young male seals in the residential streets of Hobart to practice chest-puffing and sparring with.
“So poor old Neil … is making do with all the other things that he’s ‘playing’ with, so big bollards, the traffic cones, potentially cars, all sorts of other things,” McMahon said.
A real big deal with mass appeal
To locals, Neil is a cross between a celebrity, a state mascot, and a local troublemaker – and Tasmanians are “very protective of him,” said Sophia Volzke, a marine and Antarctic ecologist based in Hobart.
“Everyone loves him,” she added. “You can talk to a random Tasmanian on the street, they will know Neil the seal.”
Volzke began her PhD on elephant seals in 2021, just as Neil was becoming widely known – so his growth, both in size and fame, feels like it’s tracked alongside her degree on his species. She makes a point to see him twice a year when he comes to town.
“I do get emotional, I do talk to him when I see him, and he was included in my PhD thesis with a photo, because that was important to me,” she said.
Part of that adoration comes from a high level of public awareness about wildlife and conservation in Tasmania, home to many endemic species found nowhere else in the world. Though Australians may be used to seeing other types of seals on their coasts – fur seals, leopard seals – Neil’s species is much less common, adding to his appeal.
What his future holds is an open question, however.
In the best-case scenario, he could eventually make his way to Macquarie Island, find the colony there, and have a chance to breed with other seals, experts say. But he doesn’t know to find them, and tracking data shows he’s never gone that far south – meaning he’s more likely to spend the rest of his life alone on Tasmania’s shores, roaming asphalt roads and beaches in search of a female.
That could present a potential problem for the town, and for Neil himself.
Despite authorities repeatedly urging the public to keep their distance and leave Neil be, thousands of people showed up to see him in June during his most recent haul-out, said Sam Thalmann, a wildlife biologist with NRE Tas, in an interview with CNN affiliate ABC Radio.
The crowding poses real danger, with NRE Tas warning in a statement that “even small movements from a large wild animal can cause serious injury.” That risk will only increase as he continues to grow – southern elephant seals are the largest seal species on earth, and male adults can reach up to 8,000 pounds and five meters (16 feet) long, as big as a pickup truck.
Thalmamn pointed to the tragic outcome for Freya the friendly walrus, who went viral online in 2022 for climbing onto small boats to sunbathe in the Oslo Fjord. The Norwegian government ultimately euthanized Freya after she was deemed a threat to human safety – with people getting dangerously close to her in the water for photos, or throwing objects at her, despite officials warning them to stay away.
Late one night, authorities shot Freya on a boat in the marina. The decision drew widespread public anger, both toward the Norwegian government, and toward spectators who sought out Freya and disregarded official warnings.
Euthanasia is not the approach NRE Tas plans to take, Thalmann emphasized – but the public needs to cooperate to keep themselves and Neil safe. This means no approaching Neil for a selfie or forcing interactions with him. NRE Tas even introduced a 24/7 security detail for Neil during his time on shore, according to ABC.
More than 60,000 people signed an online petition urging officials to implement a “non-lethal management plan” for Neil – which includes “restricted access zones” that would keep tourists and non-residents out of his favorite habitats.
Even then, the town still needs to prepare for a future where Neil may become three times his current size – and capable of flattening more than a traffic cone.
“As a community, we’re just going to have to adapt as well,” McMahon said. “The infrastructure that we built isn’t designed to withstand a 1,000-kilogram animal bashing into it … we’re going to have to rethink some stuff.”
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