Mikkelsen Harbour, Trinity Island, Antarctica
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
So wrote John Masefield as part of his poem Sea Fever to try and describe the human need to return to the sea. Here in Antarctica gentoo penguins have a need to return to the sea as well, though for a much more basic reason; they are hungry and their prey live in the ocean! This morning on Trinity Island I witnessed them returning in droves the only way a flightless bird can; they JUMP!
It is comical to watch them sidle up to the edge of the floe, look both ways, lean over almost to the point of commitment, and then back up with a quizzical look. Not yet. Not quite ready. There are not enough of us here to chance it. Better to wait, after all there is safety in numbers. Where are all my friends, anyway?
Eventually more penguins are drawn to the edge. The comedy deepens as they look over the edge in unison. Some brave the front of the pack and even make motions as if to jump. Indecision reigns supreme. Back and forth, back and forth they waddle, almost jump, and then once more back from the edge. Maybe we should go here and now?
What is an expectant photographer to do except smile and get ready for THE critical moment?
Then some invisible flag is dropped and in a furious frenzy all the penguins rush the edge at once. I envision paratroopers leaving an airplane to the sound of “Go, Go, Go!” One after the other they propel themselves off the ledge and out into open space, only to fall with a resounding “plop” into the water. It is a delightful end to the penguin indecision, and a great photo opportunity to boot.
This afternoon at Cierva Point on the Antarctic peninsula, the reason for all the penguin indecision became crystal clear for me; I watched a leopard seal first grab and then eat one of these seemingly indecisive little gentoo penguins. The reason to wait and rush the ice floe was clear - there really is safety in numbers. With life literally hanging in the balance, just when to go and when to stay is vital to a penguin's very survival. With so much at stake every time a penguin leaves the relative safety of the ice to go to sea, I see the deeper meaning of the comedy. I have to say that for our little gentoo penguins, it may not be so silly to wait at the edge after all.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
So wrote John Masefield as part of his poem Sea Fever to try and describe the human need to return to the sea. Here in Antarctica gentoo penguins have a need to return to the sea as well, though for a much more basic reason; they are hungry and their prey live in the ocean! This morning on Trinity Island I witnessed them returning in droves the only way a flightless bird can; they JUMP!
It is comical to watch them sidle up to the edge of the floe, look both ways, lean over almost to the point of commitment, and then back up with a quizzical look. Not yet. Not quite ready. There are not enough of us here to chance it. Better to wait, after all there is safety in numbers. Where are all my friends, anyway?
Eventually more penguins are drawn to the edge. The comedy deepens as they look over the edge in unison. Some brave the front of the pack and even make motions as if to jump. Indecision reigns supreme. Back and forth, back and forth they waddle, almost jump, and then once more back from the edge. Maybe we should go here and now?
What is an expectant photographer to do except smile and get ready for THE critical moment?
Then some invisible flag is dropped and in a furious frenzy all the penguins rush the edge at once. I envision paratroopers leaving an airplane to the sound of “Go, Go, Go!” One after the other they propel themselves off the ledge and out into open space, only to fall with a resounding “plop” into the water. It is a delightful end to the penguin indecision, and a great photo opportunity to boot.
This afternoon at Cierva Point on the Antarctic peninsula, the reason for all the penguin indecision became crystal clear for me; I watched a leopard seal first grab and then eat one of these seemingly indecisive little gentoo penguins. The reason to wait and rush the ice floe was clear - there really is safety in numbers. With life literally hanging in the balance, just when to go and when to stay is vital to a penguin's very survival. With so much at stake every time a penguin leaves the relative safety of the ice to go to sea, I see the deeper meaning of the comedy. I have to say that for our little gentoo penguins, it may not be so silly to wait at the edge after all.
