OTTER CREST, OR — I was scrambling alone over the boulders just past the short beach when I sensed something out of place.

There. A rock moved.

Only it wasn't a rock. It was a baby sea lion, its fluffy, mottled fur and lumpish little body blending almost seamlessly with the sea-tumbled stones.

I froze. I tried to remember the distance people are supposed to keep between themselves and wildlife. Fifty feet? Fifty yards? Or 100?

The silent little sea lion was maybe five feet from me. I retreated. I looked around for an adult sea lion. Nope, nobody hope. I clicked a photo with my phone, and retreated a bit more.

At Otter Crest, the sea lions usually hang out on the long flats exposed by low tide, at least 100 yards from where this little one hunkererd down.

Why was it so close to the rocks where people walked? Was the mother new and inexperienced, thinking the rocks would be a good hidey-hole for her infant? Was the pup recently weaned and learning to forage on its own? Was its mother the victim of one of the orcas that patrol the Oregon coast?

I've visited this stretch of shore for more than 30 years, and never seen a living wild sea lion so far inland.

So, I did the responsible thing, after succumbling to the temptation to film a few seconds of video. I called the state wildlife officials and reported it to someone who sounded indifferent.

In a few hours, the tide rose and covered the boulders. When the sea retreated again, I went back down to the boulders. No baby sea lion.

I climbed back up the stairs and looked out over the tidal flats. About a half-dozen sea lions lolled on the rocks. One of them was smaller than the others. Was it the little one I'd seen that morning?

I would like to think so.

Claire Martin: 303-954-1477, or