Runnin' with the GRUNION

BATHED IN MOONLIGHT, A FAT SEAL SPRAWLS on the sand and surveys the undulating blanket of silver and green that covers the shore at Long Beach. A strange slapping sound -- wet rubber against rubber -- fills the air. As far as the eye can see, the beach is slippery with grunion, jumpy little fish the size of ballpark franks, flopping around. An excellent late-night buffet.

For the last hour, grunion have been jumping out of the surf and pummeling the shore in a 30-second mating ritual that is unique in the animal kingdom. The seal, belly full of fish, isn't impressed. It snaps at a nearby grunion and then slowly lowers its head as if to say "No mas. No mas." It's hard being a seal during the grunion spawning season. So many grunion. So little time.

A massing army

Earlier in the evening, before the seal went fishing for dinner, grunion were massing just offshore, like an invading army under the cover of darkness, thick snakes below the shadowy dark waves.

Grunion watchers gathered on the beach and waited patiently. But their timing was off. The kids got cranky, and the beer ran out. The evening grew chilly, marriages were tested and eventually everyone went home disappointed, with sand in their shoes and mud on their shorts. They had just been initiated into a Southern California ritual: the abortive grunion run.

When the run finally started two hours later, the only ones left to see it were a few beachcombers and one lazy seal. As usual, the grunion were laughing.

Grunion are as much a part of Southern California culture as surfboards and the Hollywood sign, but without the romance. Any newsletter, club or soccer team with the name "grunion" isn't aiming for a shelf full of awards. Teenagers who've never seen the fish use them as alibis to stay out late. Frank Zappa penned a song for them, "The Beverly Hillbillies" devoted an entire episode to them, and still they get no respect.

But the hapless grunion is the only fish in the world that jumps out of the water onto the beach to spawn, which qualifies it as a bona fide international star in ichthyological circles. And it's only found in our backyard -- coastal California and the Gulf of California in Baja.

All of this renders the scrappy grunion a fitting mascot for our sun-drenched do-it-now culture. In Southern California, where so many of us arrived from somewhere else, we can relate to this fish-out-of-water story.