Penguins In The (Snowy) Mist

From Palmer Station, we took the zodiac boat to Torgersen Island, an Adelie penguin rookery.  On the way, our zodiac captain took us past two different bergy bits with sleeping crabeater seals.  They love to lie on their backs, and every so often, stretch, raise their heads, and look around.

The first bergy had seven sleeping seals, and the second one had three.  The two floes were not anywhere near each other – so we covered a bunch of ground in the harbor to check them out.  (Bergy bits are small icebergs.  Kind of the “Tiny Houses” of ice bergs.

If I haven’t already conveyed it, the zodiacs are cool – a great way to go exploring, nudging right up alongside the bergy bits, going into areas the ship can’t go, and, of course, they make the amphibious landings possible.  The next step in Antarctic touring will be to let passengers drive the zodiac (I know, I know – not happening.  Liability.  Darn lawyers.)

We landed on the very rocky Torgersen Island, but we knew upon approach there were a ton of penguins on the island (“a ton” is not an actual scientific term describing a multitude of penguins).  We knew because we could smell the guano.  And, since it is a very rocky island, it’s true – we could smell what the Rock was cooking (no, I am not a wrestling fan, but I am a fan of cheap jokes using pop culture).

We knew because we could hear the penguins loudly calling to each other.  And, we knew there are a lot of penguins because, well, we could see them.

(I had to learn how to properly pronounce “Adelie” – just say, “a deli” as in “a deli sandwich” and you’ve got it.  That may be why leopard seals prefer to eat Adelie penguins – they taste like they are from a deli.  And yes, I have no evidence that leopard seals prefer Adelie penguins, I was just stretching for the joke.)

It was a foggy day with driving snow.  The photos won’t be the best, but the rocks, the rookeries, and, most of all, the thousands of penguins will always be in my mind’s eye.  I will post some photos when I can – even though we’ve moved back north some, the internet isn’t cooperating with downloading photos.

The rocks were slaggy – you’d step and slide.  It was a modest bit of an effort to climb up from the beach (not sandy), but we were all driven on to see the penguins.  It was an Adelie penguin metropolis – six separate rookeries, with rando penguins walking from one to another.  Other penguins were frolicking on the snow – some down by the water, others up higher on the hill.

There were three brown Skua divebombing the penguins, trying to find an unguarded egg or chick to take for a meal.  The chicks, after just four-to-five weeks, were already pretty big.  Any unhatched egg by now was infertile, so a successful Skua egg attack wouldn’t be depriving a baby penguin of its life anyhow, so don’t be a Skua hater, be a Skua appreciater!

At times the Skuas would land just outside the rookery (which is both where multiple penguin nests are, as well as the defensive position wherein penguins stand close together to protect themselves and to scream about random things, such as the direction of the stock market, the Giants lack of defense, or their commute) (wow that’s a long parenthetical!).  The Skua would cautiously approach the rookery, probing for a weakness such as an unguarded chick or egg.  Then, one penguin would rush the Skua, screeching at it to “Get Off My Lawn!” or something in that vein.  

Nearby one rookery was the remains of a dead seal (Crabeaters don’t eat penguins – only leopard seals do) that Carol nearly stepped on, as it blended in with the rocks.  I gallantly saved her, although is it really gallantry to say “hey, Carol, don’t step on the dead seal.”  Giving it further thought, I really was gallant there (no lack of self-esteem with this blogger).

After taking more pictures of penguins (it’s really what you do with penguins, besides watching them feed their young, slide on the snow, peck at each other, screech, defend the rookery from Skuas, wander aimlessly along the rocks, hopping and walking between rookeries, and other penguin things, although I’ve covered the mainstays of observable penguin life) (another overly long parenthetical!  Stop it!) I decided to climb to the highest point of the rock slags.

My first approach was waved off the Skuas screaming at me for my approach.  So I diverted to a secondary peak (the high points were not way high up, but they gave great vantage points), where I saw jagged rocks covered in orange lichen.  It was like a mini-set for Lord of the Rings, but with lots of penguins.

The skuas flew off, so I headed to the highest point.  There were no nests there, so the Skuas were probably just resting before their next attacks.  Later, as Carol and I were walking back to the zodiac beach, one flew just over my head – probably a warning salvo in the war between Glen and the Skuas.

The high point afforded me a great view of the three biggest rookeries stretched out, one after the other, below me.  There was also another snow field where more penguins were frolicking.  Other rando penguins were walking to and fro – these are most likely the young bachelor and bachelorette penguins – too young to mate, too cool to hang out with the older folks back at the nests.

Eventually it was time to depart Torgersen, so I slipped and slide my way back down through the rocks.  I had gotten used to the strong smell of the guano, so it doesn’t bother me at all (“we’re not guano take it, no, we’re not guano take it, we’re not guano take it, anymore!” with apologies to Twisted Sister.)

On the last bit of the climb down, we spotted a solitary chinstrap penguin on an island of Adelies.
It was me and it was him, standing on the hilly rock slags.  Twice he lifted his head, plaintively calling out, hoping for a return answer from another chinstrap.  Twice his cries were only answered by the very different cries of the Adelies.  He proceeded to tuck his head down, and wander hither and yon, seemingly in deep thought wondering how he took a wrong turn, and how he could get back to his peeps, er, pengs.

It was time to head back to the ship, so we went onto the zodiac, scarcely believing our good fortune of a day combining Palmer Station and another island of penguins.  Little did we know about the nighttime zodiac trip to come.