No doubt people venture to Antarctica to see penguins. Sure one can catch a glimpse of these birds in New Zealand (Phillip Island), South Africa (Boulders Beach), The Galapagos, and a handful of other locations around the world. But the sheer numbers present on the Frozen Continent make it a penguin-lover’s dream destination. Upon boarding Le Lyrial, I, of course, knew I’d see my fair share of the animal and, in fact, people told me by trip’s end I’d be bored of them. Little did I know, I’d spend the next nine days watching, in amazement and constant fascination, the curious lives of Antarctica’s penguins.
First and foremost, while I expected large colonies, the actual numbers are astounding. On shore and within a rookery you find yourself surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of penguins. On the peninsula in particular, gentoo penguins dominate, having flourished in the warmer climate.
Nesting in close quarters, penguins spend their time on land partaking in many social activities but by far the most comical is pebble stealing. They repeatedly attempt to snatch rocks, one at a time, from nearby, and sometimes the exact same, nests. If successful, the penguin waddles toward and presents it to his or her mate who, while sitting on the nest, must keep an eye out for other penguins trying to do the same. It becomes an endless cycle of thievery and leads to many a squabble.
Interestingly, despite living en mass and enjoying playful encounters, often I stumbled upon solitary penguins, traversing their snowy highways or floating along on chunks of ice independently. The massive icebergs served to dwarf these tuxedoed birds while simultaneously emphasizing their solitude.
It’s hard to imagine anyone or anything eating these adorable creatures but unfortunately they face a handful of predators both on land and in water. Chicks fall victim to the relentless skuas (an Antarctic bird) who swoop and pester parents, hoping for an unprotected nest.
Leopard seals and orcas prowl the shores and seas, looking to knock penguins into the water or catch them as they dive in.
In water penguins prove far more graceful than on land. Whereas on ground they waddle and awkwardly jump from rock to rock, once in the ocean these birds truly fly. Just off shore you can watch them leaping out of the water, an act known as porpoising. Hard to capture due to the speed and randomness of their jumps, it was a fun test of my reaction time!
Hands down, the most magical penguin encounters involved chicks. Varying in size, depending on species, location and time of year, summer months find rookeries teaming with baby penguins. On the peninsula in January we saw it all ranging from barely weeks old to those nearly ready to molt.
Watching them interact with their parents, especially when hungry, entranced me for hours on end.
After five days and thousands of photographs I still hadn’t tired of wandering through the rookeries. Sure, the smell wafting in the air was less than pleasant but the endless entertainment they provided far outweighed all else.
Trackbacks/Pingbacks