November 19, 1996

Recording Emperor Penguins at the Sea Ice Edge (Photo by Buck Tilley)

I woke up early with the excitement of another trip to the ice edge. We had seen a darkening sky over Minna Bluff between Black and Whites Islands, in an area known as Herbie Alley--for the storms that pass this way. To my surprise, it was partly cloudy. The wind, however, had changed and was blowing offshore: down over McMurdo from the hills and the continent. This was not an encouraging situation, either for ice edge work or for recording. Weather here is localized, and often one may encounter fair or worsening conditions in traveling. I talked to Buck and we decided it would be a "go."

We picked up our traveling companions, Bill Bishop who works in the power plant and Cindy Hale, who works in materials. I knew Bill from Christchurch, where we met at Bailie's Pub--a hang out for Americans coming from and going to the ice. Cindy was in her seventh season, and she had wintered over several times. So had Bill. Out in the transition, the wind was strong and the chill factor well into negative numbers. We bundled up and covered our faces completely before heading out onto the ice. Cindy had just bought a new Harley-Davidson motorcycle before coming down to McMurdo and I could tell she was anxious to ride; a ski-doo has some of the girth but none of the speed. What the hell, it was a road trip and Cindy was happy to drive!

We eased out of the transition and onto the flagged route past Arrival Heights. It was nice being a passenger; I savoured the views of Mt. Erebus, whose plume of steam streaked off the summit. The flags marking the track flapped in the wind, one by one marking off a cinematic gesture over the spectacle McMurdo Sound. It was a beautiful day, whether or not any sound recording would take place. Buck suggested we climb Tent Island if nothing worked out. Not a bad idea...

Upon arriving at the Penguin Ranch, Jeff greeted us; he was delighted that I had brought coffee and oatmeal, as they were running short. Anaika was tending to the penguins in the corral and happy to see that Bill and Cindy had come. They would sit in and monitor penguin activity, while she joined us on the venture out to the ice edge. Jeff agreed to stay back and work. It had been ten days since the penguins showed up, and not one had ventured into the water yet. Soon...

Anaika tending to penguins.

"The Penguin Ranch"

Quite suddenly, the wind died down completely. We decided not to waste any time, and rode out to yesterday's site--in hopes that the emperor penguins were still there. Our route had been obscured to some extent by the wind covering the tracks of the previous day with snow, but enough remained and we found the spot again, no problem. In usual fashion, our arrival was heralded by the penguins, who filed over in a single line to greet us. They formed a semi-circle around our snow machines and watched us unpack.

With the wind abated, and no guarantee that it would stay nice, I hastily set to placing my microphones and a plywood windscreen that Woody Hayward, at the construction building, had slapped together for me in the morning. Placing the microphones near the diving hole enabled me to listen to the birds' diving activity: the splashing, the entrances and exits from the water as well as the calling that comes as part of the ceremony and ritual. As it was very still, Anaika and Buck left me alone to record and they wandered along the channel of the Nathaniel B. Palmer's wake a few hundred yards to watch another group of penguins.

As I settled in, I ran out 20 feet of cable, and sat down with my recording gear. Gradually, the penguins came out of the water and waddled over to me. They examined the furry microphone windscreen and pecked at it. Walked around the entire rig, looking at everything carefully. The cables lying in the snow were also a source of intrigue and they followed the lines out to the recorder, stooping to inspect and nudged with their beaks. The linear aspect held a special attraction for them; they lined up on one side and stepped over to the other side in a haphazard version of line or reel dancing--another variation on a loosely choreographed gesture which accompanies much of their social interaction. Eventually, I was surrounded by a throng of curious heads. They ventured very close--to within a foot. I realized that, from my seated position, they were as tall or taller than me. I looked down at their feet, black and scaled with three pronounced toes and toe nails and one seemingly vestigial thumb or dew claw on the topside--curiously reptilian. One rather bold penguin made an exploratory peck at my jacket, as if to say, "What are you?" I was nervous about being pecked at--images of Alfred Hitchcock came to mind. So, I sat up and rolled my head, as I had seen them do. They all shuffled in ranks and adjusted their positions; nobody backed off but neither was another peck forthcoming and I did not try to touch one of them--a comfortable boundary seemed to have been acknowledged. The next point of interest was the blue and pink freezer bag that I keep my tape recorder and batteries in. Several birds sauntered up and peered inside--no beak probing, just a quick scan and a look--see. All throughout this coming together, one bird had sidled up to me and just stared. I deferred the gaze, occasionally making eye contact for nearly an hour; I had a companion. Meanwhile, a pair of birds stood, belly to belly off to my right. From time to time they drew themselves up to attention, shrugged their shoulders, lowered their heads and let loose with a wonderful ratcheting trumpet. Most of the flock headed back to the water--except my companion, who lingered with a glistening gaze.

Emperor penguins...

Checking me out.

In all my years of field work, I have rarely come across a species so apparently curious and fearless; unlike the Arctic, there are no land predators here and they have no reason to avoid people. This is also true of Weddell seals. I know of no other 1,000 carnivore that I can approach with such ease. Humans either relate to animals as pets or quarry or to be observed in captivity in a zoo or objectified on television in a nature program. These perspectives usually involve dominance and distance: both physical and psychological. I had no antecedent for my experience and the feelings were new to me. It was a powerful encounter, filled with subtle nuances and mutual wonder quite unlike anything I have known--or will know, I suspect.

My companion...

To hear a sample of emperor penguins diving and vocalizing, please select below:

Emperor Penguins Diving and Vocalizing