January 08, 2004
fauna
PENGUINS
"Whatever a penguin does has individuality, and he lays bare his life for the whole world to see. He cannot fly away. And because he is quaint in all that he does, but still more because he is fighting against bigger odds than any other bird, and fighting always with the most gallant pluck, he comes to be considered as something apart from the ordinary bird - sometimes solemn, sometimes humorous, enterprising, chivalrous, cheeky -- and always (unless you are driving a dog team) a welcome and, in some ways, an almost human friend." -- Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World.
I've always thought it was a bit silly to have a favorite animal -- I mean, a favorite animal species -- especially considering that people who tell me they "love rhinos" or whatever rarely seem to be acquainted with many actual instances of that species in the flesh. This is the main reason penguins are not my new favorite critters. On the other hand, I like the concept of totems, so maybe I can adopt a penguin as my totem, as long as that doesn't require me to start diving in icy waters and smelling like fish. I wish we could have brought one home for a pet. Probably the cats would disapprove. (Anyway, penguin guano is not something you'd want in the house and this desert doesn't have much of a supply of krill to feed them.)
Yes, we saw penguins. Lots and lots of penguins, Gentoos, Adelies, and Chinstraps. They have no fear of humans and will come right up to you to investigate. They are the most endearing creatures I've ever seen, mostly because they try so hard. They are not terribly well adapted to land, and will waddle and waddle until they get frustrated, try hopping for a few jumps, and sometimes flop down on their bellies on the snow and push with feet and flippers. Their ungainliness is deceiving though; colonies can be fairly far up out of the water, and that awkward motion can move them much faster than you'd think; a penguin can waddle almost as fast as a person can walk. In the water they suddenly turn into graceful miniature dolphins. They porpoise in the water in groups that look like synchronized swimming teams. Then one will suddenly do a very good duck imitation, bending backward to stick its head and tail out of the water before diving down again. Every once in a while one will furiously flap its wngs for a minute -- either they've just never given up on that darned flying thing, or else it's a heat-loss thing. Also, sometimes one will "sing": they point their beaks straight up and warble. Not sure if it's a mating thing or what.
I've seen a lot of writing about what a rough life penguins have, but I'm not sure it's true. They live in extreme conditions, of course, especially the Emperors who live on the ice by the main continent itself, but they are adapted to it. They like the cold. We saw our first colony, chinstraps, on a fairly warm day. Most of us had our outer jackets off and several of the penguins were plopped belly down in the snow to cool off. They do show some hesitation in diving into the ocean, but I think that has more to do with leopard seals than with cold water. Sometimes they'll cluster together on the edge of an iceberg until one falls off. The others will crane their necks over to see if the one who fell was grabbed by a seal and if not, some of the rest may jump in.
There were eggs and a few chicks out while we were there, though I never got a good look at one of the latter. Rudder did because he's taller -- the nests tended to be uphill from where we were walking and we couldn't go too close. The eco-ideal is to not only not disturb all local species, but to avoid doing anything to make them alter their behavior.
My only regret is that we didn't go to the Falklands or far enough south to see the more colorful species like King, Emperor, or Rockhopper penguins. The ones we did see were definitely a high point of the trip.
SEALS
In contrast to the entertaining penguins, seals are basically giant fat slugs with a layer of blubber. On land they don't do much but sleep, belch, and fart. In the sea they're a bit more lively and apparently some tourists have been startled to find a leopard seal (which have big sharp teeth and prey on penguins) resting its head on their Zodiacs. We saw fur, leopard, and Weddell seals as well as sea lions, and got a few pictures to add to the ones we have from Oregon, California, and Alaska, but I still find it hard to get excited about the pinnipeds.
WHALES
We saw several Minke whales, which are small whales much like dolphins, as well as a couple of the much larger (and lazier) humpbacks. The humpbacks were mostly "logging", which is just laying there literally sleeping like a log. We only got a glimpse of orcas, though people in a few of the Zodiacs did get good looks at them.
Our best whale experience was with a Minke one day when we were in the kayaks. We saw several Zodiacs gathered together, which is generally a sign that there's something to see, so we paddled over. The whale apparently decided that our bright yellow kayaks were far more interesting than the black Zodis, so it came over to investigate. He stayed and played with us for a very long time, poking its head above water, then diving down under us and turning up somewhere else entirely. In fact, he (or maybe she, I don't know how you tell) stayed so long that we had to go on because we were all getting cold -- generally this is unheard of; you stay and watch a whale until until the whale gets tired of you and goes away. Rudder and I were in a double 'yak; this whale came so close to us and dived so shallowly under us that I was getting a little nervous and was glad not to be in a single! I asked the staff naturalist later, though, and she said that whales never do knock over 'yaks or Zodis. Apparently they have enough of a sense of what we are to realize that just because they like the cold water, that doesn't mean we would.
By the way, since this essay is titled "Fauna", I will also comment on the flora we saw: moss. Lichen. A bit of grass in the South Shetlands. That's it.
