It’s not every day that a leisurely, half-ton “sea cow” drifts into coastal New England with an apparent disregard for regional boundaries. Yet this summer, something unmistakably odd turned up in Massachusetts: a manatee, caught on camera and paddling through waters far chillier than its usual subtropical haunts. As CBS Boston reports, this is the first confirmed manatee appearance in Massachusetts since 2016—a frequency that puts local sightings on par with, say, a narwhal wandering into Cape Cod Bay.

Not Your Average Outdoor Visitor

The first alert came on July 26 in Mashpee, when paddleboarder Jennifer Sullivan noticed and recorded the unexpected animal. Sullivan told NBC Boston the manatee was “just lazing around there in the grass going as slowly as possible,” a detail relayed in UPI’s report. Additional footage was captured by Stephen Petrucci from his dock, as described by CBS Boston, who initially struggled to believe what he was seeing.

The gentle visitor made another appearance on July 29 in Mattapoisett, briefly becoming stranded on tidal flats before the incoming tide allowed it to return to deeper water—a sequence confirmed by both UPI and CBS Boston. In both accounts, officials from the Massachusetts Division of Marine Fisheries and the International Fund for Animal Welfare (IFAW) emphasized that public reports were instrumental in tracking the animal’s movements and well-being.

Cold Comforts and Marine Worries

When it comes to comfort, Massachusetts is hardly the spa getaway manatees typically seek. As outlined by IFAW’s Brian Sharp in CBS Boston’s coverage, water temperatures of at least 72 degrees are a baseline requirement for these creatures. “Right now, this time of year, our waters are warm enough for manatees,” Sharp noted. But that window is brief. Stacey Hedman, IFAW’s senior director of communications, clarified to the Cape Cod Times (via UPI) that local water temperatures only occasionally reach the lower edge of the manatee comfort zone—and then only for short stretches.

Concern goes beyond just the temperature. Erin Burke of MassWildlife, speaking to CBS Boston, explained that this particular manatee “doesn’t look well, it looks a little thin.” History provides context: CBS Boston documents that the last recorded Massachusetts manatee, a pregnant female, required rescue in 2016 when water temperatures started to drop; she was ultimately released in Florida. In a more somber example, UPI cites a 2023 Rhode Island sighting that ended with the manatee found dead after cold exposure.

Authorities are not leaving the animal’s fate to chance. UPI relays that a rescue plan will be enacted if the manatee becomes stranded again or if the water temperature dips. The IFAW’s statement—highlighted in CBS Boston—urges anyone encountering the animal to maintain a respectful distance (150 feet is the advised minimum), refraining from feeding or trying to touch the manatee, not just for the animal’s safety but to comply with federal law.

Patterns (or Lack Thereof) in the Wayward Manatee

It would be an overstatement to call these sightings a trend. Both sources document just four manatee appearances in Massachusetts over the last 17 years; that’s about as common as finding a bear filching sunflower seeds (an actual news item, as UPI offhandedly notes in their roundup of regional oddities). Typically, manatees live off the Gulf Coast or in Florida, sometimes venturing northward during the peak of summer. Erin Burke clarified in CBS Boston’s coverage that the wanderings up to New England, while “uncommon… are not unheard of.”

What drives a manatee this far north? Climate-driven shifts, adventurous individual quirks, or perhaps wandering currents—these possibilities are raised but not answered by either outlet. Still, all signs point to this being a genuine anomaly rather than a signal of new migratory behavior.

A Moment in the Spotlight

For now, this manatee’s well-documented New England vacation serves as more than a quirk for the local news cycle; it’s a gentle poke at our sense of regional orderliness. Wildlife officials remain on high alert, prepared to intervene if required, while passersby are urged to enjoy the spectacle from a safe (and legally sound) distance.

With so few sightings in nearly two decades, it’s worth wondering: What’s next? Will Massachusetts play reluctant host to a subtropical parade of waylaid wildlife? Stranger appearances have certainly occurred. For the moment, though, this slow-moving visitor stands as a reminder that nature, in spite of all our maps and averages, occasionally likes to shuffle the deck on its own terms—and rarely with advance notice.