PENGUINS
(_Some Notes by James Murray, Biologist to the Expedition_)
Though so much has been written about them, penguins always excite
fresh interest in every one who sees them for the first time.
There is endless interest in watching them; the dignified Emperor,
dignified in spite of his clumsy waddle, going along with his wife (or
wives) by his side, the very picture of a successful, self-satisfied,
unsuspicious countryman, and gravely bowing like a Chinaman before a
yelping dog, and also the little undignified matter-of-fact Adelie,
minding his own business in a most praiseworthy manner. Often they
behave with apparent stupidity, but sometimes they show a good deal
of intelligence. Their resemblance to human beings is always noticed,
partly because they walk erect, but they also have many other human
traits. They are the civilised nations of the Antarctic regions, and
their civilisation, if much simpler than ours, is in some respects
higher and more worthy of the name.
But there is also a good deal of human nature in them. As in the
human race, their gathering in colonies does not show any true social
instinct; each penguin is in the rookery for his own ends, there is no
thought of the general good. You might exterminate an Adelie rookery
with the exception of one bird, and he would not mind so long as you
left him alone.
Some suggestion of unselfishness does appear in the nesting habits of
the Adelie, and like men the Adelies have the unpleasant habit of
stealing and the pleasant one of not making eating the prime business
in life. Both Emperors and Adelies, when nesting is off their minds,
show a legitimate curiosity, and having got into good condition they
leave the sea and go off in parties for weeks, apparently to see the
country.
We saw the Emperor penguins only as a summer visitor, when having
finished nesting and having fed up and become glossy and beautiful,
they came up out of the sea, apparently to have a good time before
moulting. While the Adelies were nesting the Emperors came in numbers
to inspect the camp, the two kinds usually paying no attention to each
other unless an Adelie thought an Emperor came too close to her nest,
when an odd unequal quarrel followed. Little impudence, pecking and
scolding, and being more than able to hold her own with the tongue, but
knowing the value of discretion whenever the Emperor raised his flipper.
The Emperors were very inquisitive and would come a long way to see a
motor-car or a man, and when out on these excursions the leader kept
his party together by a long shrill squawk. Distant parties saluted in
this way.
The first party to arrive inspected the boat, and then crossed the lake
to the camp, but when they discovered the dogs all other interests were
swallowed up. After the discovery crowds of Emperors came every day,
and from the manner in which they went straight to the kennels one was
tempted to believe that the fame of the dogs had been noised abroad.
As regards meetings, Emperors were very ceremonious, whether meeting
other Emperors, men, or dogs. They came up to a party of strangers
in a straggling procession, some big aldermanic fellow leading. At a
respectful distance they halted, and the old male waddled close up and
bowed gravely until his head almost touched his breast. With his head
still bowed he made a long speech in a muttering manner, and having
finished his speech he still kept his head bowed for a few seconds
for politeness sake, and then raising it he described with his bill
as large a circle as the joints of his neck would allow, and finally
looked into our faces to see if we understood. If we had not, as
usually was the case, he tried again.
He was infinitely patient with our stupidity, but his followers were
not so patient with him, and presently they would become sure that he
was making a mess of it. Then another male would waddle forward and
elbow the first Emperor aside as if to say, "I'll show you how it ought
to be done," and went again through the whole business.
Their most solemn ceremonies were used towards the dogs, and three old
fellows were seen calmly bowing and speaking at the same time to a dog,
which was yelping and straining at its chain in the desire to get at
them.
Left to themselves the Emperor penguins seemed perfectly peaceable, but
if they did use their flippers they could strike forward or backward
with equal ease.
They seemed to regard men as penguins like themselves, but if a man
walked too fast among them or touched them they were frightened and
ran away, only fighting when closely pressed. As one slowly retreated,
fighting, he had a ludicrous resemblance to a small boy being bullied
by a big one, his flipper being raised in defence towards his foe as
he made quick blows at the bully. It was well to keep clear of that
flipper, for it was very powerful and might easily break an arm.
Many of the stupid acts of both kinds of penguins are doubtless to be
traced to their very defective sight in air, and to this defect one
must ascribe the fact that when they fought the blows from their bills
always fell short.
The Emperor can hardly be said to migrate, but nevertheless he travels
a good deal, and the meaning of some of his journeys remain a mystery.
On journeys they often travel many miles walking erect, when they get
along at a very slow shuffle, making only a few inches at each step.
In walking thus they keep their balance by means of their tails,
which forms a tripod with the legs. When, however, they are on a
suitable snow surface, they progressed rapidly by tobogganing, a very
graceful motion, when they made sledges of their breasts and propelled
themselves by their powerful legs, balancing, and perhaps increasing
their speed, by means of their wings.
Eight of them visited the car one day, sledging swiftly towards us,
and one obstinate old fellow, who was not going to be hurried away
by anybody, had to see the car bearing down upon him before he was
persuaded to hustle.
The Adelie is always comical. He pops out of the water with startling
suddenness, like a jack-in-the-box, alights on his feet, shakes his
tail, and toddles off about his business. He always knows where he
wants to go and what he wants to do, and it is difficult to turn him
aside from his purpose.
In the water the Adelie penguins move rapidly and circle in the same
way as a porpoise or dolphin, for which they are easily mistaken at a
little distance. On level ice or snow they can get along about as fast
as a man at a smart walk, but they find even a small crack a serious
obstruction, and pause and measure with the eye one of a few inches
before very cautiously hopping over it. They flop down and toboggan
over any opening more than a few inches wide. Very rarely they swim in
the water like ducks, and on these infrequent occasions their necks are
below the surface and their heads are just showing.
The Adelie shows true courage in the breeding-season, for after he has
learned to fear man he remains to defend the nest against any odds.
When walking among the nests one is assailed on all sides by powerful
bills, and for protection we wore long felt boots reaching well above
the knee. Some of the clever ones, however, realised that they were
wasting their efforts on the boots, and coming up behind would seize
the skin above the boot and hang on tight, beating with their wings.
Some birds became so greatly interested in the camp that they wanted to
nest there. One bird (we believe it was always the same one) could not
be kept away and used to come every day, until at last he was carried
away by Brocklehurst, a wildly struggling, unconquerable being.
The old birds enjoy play, while the young ones are solely engaged
in satisfying the enormous appetites they have when growing. While
the _Nimrod_ was frozen in the pack some dozens of them disported
themselves in a sea-pool alongside. They swam together in the duck
fashion, then at a squawk from one they all dived and came up at the
other side of the pool.
Early in October they began to arrive at the rookery, singly or in
pairs. The first to come were the males, and they at once began to
scrape up the frozen ground to make hollows for nests, and to collect
stones for the walls with which they surrounded them.
[Illustration: An Adelie calling for a Mate after commencing the Nest.
(_See page 242_)]
When the rookery is pretty well filled, and the nest-building is in
full swing, the birds have a busy and anxious time. To get enough
suitable small stones is a matter of difficulty, and may involve long
journeys for each single stone, so the temptation is too strong for
some of the birds, and they become habitual thieves. The bearing of the
thief, however, clearly shows that he knows that he is doing wrong,
for very different is his furtive look, even after he is quite out of
danger of pursuit, from the expression of the honest penguin coming
home with a hard-earned stone.
A thief, sitting on its own nest, was stealing from an adjacent nest,
whose honest owner was also at home but looking unsuspectingly in
another direction. Casually the latter turned his head and caught the
thief in the very act, whereupon the culprit dropped the stone and
pretended to be busy picking up an infinitesimal crumb from the neutral
ground. Undoubtedly then the penguin has a conscience, at least a human
conscience, that is the fear of being found out.
This stone-gathering is a very strong part of the nesting instinct,
and even if at a late stage the birds lost their eggs or their young,
they began again, in a half-hearted way, to heap up stones. Unmated
birds occupied the fringe of the rookery, and amused themselves piling
and stealing till the chicks began to hatch out.
After the two eggs were laid the males--who always seemed to be in the
majority--used to do most of the work, and judging from certain signs
it would seem that some of the birds never left their nests to feed
during the whole period of incubation. Many birds lost their mates
through the occasional breaking loose of a dog, and these birds could
not leave their nests.