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ANTARCTIC PENGUINS
THE HEART OF THE ANTARCTIC. Being a Story of the British Antarctic
Expedition, 1907-1909. By Sir E. H. SHACKLETON, C.V.O. With Introduction
by HUGH ROBERT MILL, D.S.O. An Account of the First Journey to the South
Magnetic Pole by Professor T. W. EDGWORTH DAVID, F.R.S. 2 vols., crown
4to. Illustrated with Maps and Portraits. 36s net. Edition de Luxe, with
Autographs, Special Contributions, Etched Plates, and Pastel Portraits.
L10 10s net. New and Revised Edition. With Coloured Illustrations and
Black and White. Crown 8vo, 6s net.
SHACKLETON IN THE ANTARCTIC. (HERO READERS.) Crown 8vo, 1s 6d.
LOST IN THE ARCTIC. Being the Story of the "Alabama" Expedition. By
Captain Ejnar Mickelson. Crown 4to. Illustrations and Maps. 18s net.
IN NORTHERN MISTS. Arctic Exploration in Early Times. By FRIDTJOF
NANSEN. With numerous Illustrations and Coloured Frontispieces. 2 vols.,
cr. 4to, 30s net.
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
[Illustration: "OCCASIONALLY AN UNACCOUNTABLE 'BROODINESS' SEEMED TO
TAKE POSSESSION OF THE PENGUINS" (Page 108)
Frontispiece]
ANTARCTIC PENGUINS
A STUDY OF THEIR SOCIAL HABITS
BY
DR. G. MURRAY LEVICK, R.N.
ZOOLOGIST TO THE BRITISH ANTARCTIC EXPEDITION [1910-1913]
LONDON
WILLIAM HEINEMANN
First Published March 1914
Second Impression May 1914
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN 1914
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
PART I
THE FASTING PERIOD 17
PART II
DOMESTIC LIFE OF THE ADELIE PENGUIN 51
APPENDIX 119
PART III
McCORMICK'S SKUA GULL 125
A SHORT NOTE ON EMPEROR PENGUINS 134
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"Occasionally an unaccountable 'broodiness' seemed to
take possession of the penguins" Frontispiece
To face p.
An angry Adelie 2
Dozing 4
Waking up, stretching, and yawning 4
Pack-ice 8
Heavy seas in the autumn 8
"throw up masses of ice" 10
"which are frozen into a compact mass" 10
"and later, form the beautiful terraces of the ice-foot" 14
Penguins at the rookery 14
In the foreground a mated pair have begun to build 20
The rookery beginning to fill up 22
"The hens would keep up this peck-pecking hour after hour" 24
An affectionate couple 24
"Side by side ... nests of very big stones and nests of
very small stones" 26
On the march to the rookery 28
Part of the line of approaching birds, several miles in length 30
Arriving at the rookery 32, 34
Adelies arriving 36
A cock carrying a stone to his nest 36
Several interesting things are taking place here 38
Three cocks in rivalry 40
Two of the cocks squaring up for battle 40
Hard at it 42
The end of the battle 42
The proposal 44
Cocks fighting for hens 46, 48
Penguin on nest 48
Showing the position of the two eggs 50
An Adelie in "ecstatic" attitude 50
Floods 52
Flooded 54
A nest with stones of mixed sizes 54
"Hour after hour ... they fought again and again" 56
A nest on a rock 58
"One after another, the rest of the party followed him" 58
A joy ride 60
A knot of penguins on the ice-foot 62
An Adelie leaping from the water 64
An Adelie leaping four feet high and ten feet long 66
Jumping on to slippery ice 68
"When they succeeded in pushing one of their number over,
all would crane their necks over the edge" 70
Diving flat into shallow water 72, 74, 76, 78
Adelies "porpoising" 78
A perfect dive into deep water 80
Sea-leopards "lurk beneath the overhanging ledges" 82
A sea-leopard's head 84
A sea-leopard 10 ft. 61/2 in. long 86
A young sea-leopard on sea-ice 86
"With graceful arching of his neck, appeared to assure her
of his readiness to take charge" 88
"The chicks began to appear" 90
An Adelie being sick 90
Method of feeding the young 92
Profile of an Adelie chick 94
A task becoming impossible 96
Adelie with chick twelve days old 98
A couple with their chicks 100
Adelie penguins have a strong love of climbing for its own sake 102
Adelies on the ice-foot 104, 106, 108
"An imprisoned hen was poking her head up" 110
"Her mate appeared to be very angry with her" 110
"When she broke out, they became reconciled" 112
Adelie nests on top of Cape Adare 112
"Leapt at one another into the air" 130
A Skua by its chick 130
An Emperor Penguin 134
Profile of an Emperor 136
ADELIE PENGUINS(1)
INTRODUCTION
The penguins of the Antarctic regions very rightly have been termed the
true inhabitants of that country. The species is of great antiquity,
fossil remains of their ancestors having been found, which showed that
they flourished as far back as the eocene epoch. To a degree far in
advance of any other bird, the penguin has adapted itself to the sea as
a means of livelihood, so that it rivals the very fishes. This
proficiency in the water has been gained at the expense of its power of
flight, but this is a matter of small moment, as it happens.
(1) _Pygoscelis adeliae._
In few other regions could such an animal as the penguin rear its young,
for when on land its short legs offer small advantage as a means of
getting about, and as it cannot fly, it would become an easy prey to any
of the carnivora which abound in other parts of the globe. Here,
however, there are none of the bears and foxes which inhabit the North
Polar regions, and once ashore the penguin is safe.
The reason for this state of things is that there is no food of any
description to be had inland. Ages back, a different state of things
existed: tropical forests abounded, and at one time, the seals ran about
on shore like dogs. As conditions changed, these latter had to take to
the sea for food, with the result that their four legs, in course of
time, gave place to wide paddles or "flippers," as the penguins' wings
have done, so that at length they became true inhabitants of the sea.
Were the Sea-Leopards(2) (the Adelies' worst enemy) to take to the land
again, there would be a speedy end to all the southern penguin
rookeries. As these, however, are inhabited only during four and a half
months of the year, the advantage to the seals in growing legs again
would not be great enough to influence evolution in that direction. At
the same time, I wonder very much that the sea-leopards, who can squirm
along at a fair pace on land, have not crawled up the few yards of
ice-foot intervening between the water and some of the rookeries, as,
even if they could not catch the old birds, they would reap a rich
harvest among the chicks when these are hatched. Fortunately however
they never do this.
(2) Sea-Leopard = _Stenorhinchus leptonyx_.
[Illustration: Fig. 1. AN ANGRY ADELIE (Page 3)]
When seen for the first time, the Adelie penguin gives you the
impression of a very smart little man in an evening dress suit, so
absolutely immaculate is he, with his shimmering white front and black
back and shoulders. He stands about two feet five inches in height,
walking very upright on his little legs.
His carriage is confident as he approaches you over the snow, curiosity
in his every movement. When within a yard or two of you, as you stand
silently watching him, he halts, poking his head forward with little
jerky movements, first to one side, then to the other, using his right
and left eye alternately during his inspection. He seems to prefer using
one eye at a time when viewing any near object, but when looking far
ahead, or walking along, he looks straight ahead of him, using both
eyes. He does this, too, when his anger is aroused, holding his head
very high, and appearing to squint at you along his beak, as in
Figure 1.
After a careful inspection, he may suddenly lose all interest in you,
and ruffling up his feathers sink into a doze. Stand still for a minute
till he has settled himself to sleep, then make sound enough to wake him
without startling him, and he opens his eyes, stretching himself, yawns,
then finally walks off, caring no more about you. (Figs. 2 and 3.)
The wings of Adelies, like those of the other penguins, have taken the
form of paddles, and are covered with very fine scale-like feathers.
Their legs being very short, they walk slowly, with a waddling gait, but
can travel at a fair pace over snow or ice by falling forward on to
their breasts, and propelling themselves with all four limbs.
To continue the sketch, I quote two other writers:
M. Racovitza, of the "Belgica" expedition, well describes them as
follows:
"Imagine a little man, standing erect, provided with two broad paddles
instead of arms, with head small in comparison with the plump stout
body; imagine this creature with his back covered with a black coat ...
tapering behind to a pointed tail that drags on the ground, and adorned
in front with a glossy white breast-plate. Have this creature walk on
his two feet, and give him at the same time a droll little waddle, and a
pert movement of the head; you have before you something irresistibly
attractive and comical."
[Illustration: Fig. 2. Dozing]
[Illustration: Fig. 3. Waking up, Stretching, and Yawning (Page 3)]
Dr. Louis Gain, of the French Antarctic expedition, gives us the
following description:
"The Adelie penguin is a brave animal, and rarely flees from danger. If
it happens to be tormented, it faces its aggressor and ruffles the black
feathers which cover its back. Then it takes a stand for combat, the
body straight, the animal erect, the beak in the air, the wings
extended, not losing sight of its enemy.
"It then makes a sort of purring, a muffled grumbling, to show that it
is not satisfied, and has not lost a bit of its firm resolution to
defend itself. In this guarded position it stays on the spot; sometimes
it retreats, and lying flat on the ground, pushes itself along with all
the force of its claws and wings. Should it be overtaken, instead of
trying to increase its speed, it stops, backs up again to face anew the
peril, and returns to its position of combat. Sometimes it takes the
offensive, throws itself upon its aggressor, whom it punishes with blows
of its beak and wings."
The Adelie penguin is excessively curious, taking great pains to inspect
any strange object he may see. When we were waiting for the ship to
fetch us home, some of us lived in little tents which we pitched on the
snow about fifty yards from the edge of the sea. Parties of penguins
from Cape Royds rookery frequently landed here, and almost invariably
the first thing they did on seeing our tents, was at once to walk up the
slope and inspect these, walking all round them, and often staying to
doze by them for hours. Some of them, indeed, seemed to enjoy our
companionship. When you pass on the sea-ice anywhere near a party of
penguins, these generally come up to look at you, and we had great
trouble to keep them away from the sledge dogs when these were tethered
in rows near the hut at Cape Evans. The dogs killed large numbers of
them in consequence, in spite of all we could do to prevent this.
The Adelies, as will be seen in these pages, are extremely brave, and
though panic occasionally overtakes them, I have seen a bird return time
after time to attack a seaman who was brutally sending it flying by
kicks from his sea-boot, before I arrived to interfere. An exact
description of the plumage of the Adelie penguins will be found in the
Appendix, as it is more especially of their habits that I intend to
treat in this work.
Before describing these, and with a view to making them more
intelligible to the general reader, I will proceed to a short
explanation.
The Adelie penguins spend their summer and bring forth their young in
the far South. Nesting on the shores of the Antarctic continent, and on
the islands of the Antarctic seas, they are always close to the water,
being dependent on the sea for their food, as are all Antarctic fauna;
the frozen regions inland, for all practical purposes, being barren of
both animal and vegetable life.
Their requirements are few: they seek no shelter from the terrible
Antarctic gales, their rookeries in most cases being in open wind-swept
spots. In fact, three of the four rookeries I visited were possibly in
the three most windy regions of the Antarctic. The reason for this is
that only wind-swept places are so kept bare of snow that solid ground
and pebbles for making nests are to be found.
When the chicks are hatched and fully fledged, they are taught to swim,
and when this is accomplished and they can catch food for themselves,
both young and old leave the Southern limits of the sea, and make their
way to the pack-ice out to the northward, thus escaping the rigors and
darkness of the Antarctic winter, and keeping where they will find the
open water which they need. For in the winter the seas where they nest
are completely covered by a thick sheet of ice which does not break out
until early in the following summer. Much of this ice is then borne
northward by tide and wind, and accumulates to form the vast rafts of
what is called "pack-ice," many hundreds of miles in extent, which lie
upon the surface of the Antarctic seas. (Fig. 4.)
It is to this mass of floating sea-ice that the Adelie penguins make
their way in the autumn, but as their further movements here are at
present something of a mystery, the question will be discussed at
greater length presently.
When young and old leave the rookery at the end of the breeding season,
the new ice has not yet been formed, and their long journey to the pack
has to be made by water, but they are wonderful swimmers and seem to
cover the hundreds of miles quite easily.
Arrived on the pack, the first year's birds remain there for two
winters. It is not until after their first moult, the autumn following
their departure from the rookery, that they grow the distinguishing mark
of the adult, black feathers replacing the white plumage which has
hitherto covered the throat.
The spring following this, and probably every spring for the rest of
their lives, they return South to breed, performing their journey, very
often, not only by water, but on foot across many miles of frozen sea.
[Illustration: Fig. 4. Pack Ice (on which the Adelies winter)
Two Weddell Seals are seen on a Floe]
[Illustration: Fig. 5. Heavy Seas in the Autumn (Page 10)]
For those birds who nest in the southernmost rookeries, such as Cape
Crozier, this journey must mean for them a journey of at least four
hundred miles by water, and an unknown but considerable distance on foot
over ice.
As I am about to describe the manners and customs of Adelie penguins at
the Cape Adare rookery, I will give a short description of that spot.
Cape Adare is situated in lat. 71 deg. 14' S. long. 170 deg. 10' E., and is a
neck of land jutting out from the sheer and ice-bound foot-hills of
South Victoria Land northwards for a distance of some twenty miles.
For its whole length, the sides of this Cape rise sheer out of the sea,
affording no foothold except at the extreme end, where a low beach has
been formed, nestling against the steep side of the cliff which here
rises almost perpendicularly to a height of over 1000 feet.
Hurricanes frequently sweep this beach, so that snow never settles there
for long, and as it is composed of basaltic material freely strewn with
rounded pebbles, it forms a convenient nesting site, and it was on this
spot that I made the observations set forth in the following pages.
Viewed before the penguins' arrival in the spring, and after recent
winds had swept the last snowfalls away, the rookery is seen to be
composed of a series of undulations and mounds, or "knolls," while
several sheets of ice, varying in size up to some hundreds of yards in
length and one hundred yards in width, cover lower lying ground where
lakes of thaw water form in the summer. Though doubtless the ridges and
knolls of the rookery owe their origin mainly to geological phenomena,
their contour has been much added to as, year by year, the penguins have
chosen the higher eminences for their nests; because their guano, which
thickly covers the higher ground, has protected this from weathering and
the denuding effect of the hurricanes which pass over it at certain
seasons and tend to carry away the small fragments of ground that have
been split up by the frost.
The shores of this beach are protected by a barrier of ice-floes which
are stranded there by the sea in the autumn. These floes become welded
together and form the "ice-foot" frequently referred to in these pages,
and photographs showing how this is done are seen on Figs. 5, 6, 7 and
8.
At the back of the rookery, nesting sites are to be seen stretching up
the steep cliff to a height of over 1000 feet, some of them being almost
inaccessible, so difficult is the climb which the penguins have made to
reach them.
[Illustration: Fig. 6. "... Throw up Masses of Ice,]
[Illustration: Fig. 7. "... Which are Frozen into a Compact Mass as
Winter approaches" (Page 10)]
On Duke of York Island, some twenty miles south of the Cape Adare
rookery, another breeding-place has been made. This is a small colony
only, as might be expected. Indeed it is difficult to see why the
penguins chose this place at all whilst room still exists at the bigger
rookery, because Duke of York Island, until late in the season, is cut
off from open water by many miles of sea-ice, so that with the exception
of an occasional tide crack, or seals' blow holes, the birds of that
rookery have no means of getting food except by making a long journey on
foot. When the arrivals were streaming up to Cape Adare many were seen
to pass by, making in a straight line for Duke of York Island, and so
adding another twenty miles on foot to the journey they had already
accomplished.
When the time arrived for the birds to feed, some open leads had formed
about half way across the bay, and those of the Duke of York colony were
to be seen streaming over the ice for many miles on their way between
the water and their nests. They seem to think nothing of long journeys,
however, as in the early season, when unbroken sea-ice intervened
between the two rookeries, parties of penguins from Cape Adare actually
used to march out and meet their Duke of York friends half way over,
presumably for the pleasure of a chat.
To realize what this meant, we must remember that an Adelie penguin's
eyes being only about twelve inches above the ground when on the march,
his horizon is only one mile distant. Thus from Cape Adare he could just
see the top of the mountain on Duke of York Island peeping above the
horizon _on the clearest day_. In anything like thick weather he could
not see it at all, and probably he had never been there. So in the first
place, what was it that impelled him to go on this long journey to meet
his friends, and when so impelled, what instinct pointed out the way?
This of course merely brings us to the old question of migratory
instinct, but in the case of the penguin, its horizon is so very short
that it is quite evident he possesses a special sense of direction, in
addition to the special sense which urged him to go and meet the Duke of
York Island contingent, and I may here remark that when we were
returning to New Zealand in the summer of 1913, we passed troops of
penguins swimming in the open sea far out of sight of land,--an
unanswerable reply to those naturalists who still maintain that
migrating birds must rely upon their eyes for guidance, and this remark
applies equally to the penguins we found on the northern limits of the
pack-ice, some five hundred miles from the rookeries to which they would
repair the following year.
TABLE A
+---------------+----------+--------+----------+---------+--------------+
| | Northern | Miles | Southern | Miles | |
| Mean date | limit | from | limit | of pack | Remarks |
| | of pack |C. Adare| of pack |N. and S.| |
+---------------+----------+--------+----------+---------+--------------+
| Feb. 3, 1839 | 68 deg. S. | 190 | ? | ? | Balleny |
| | | | | | |
| Jan. 1, 1841 | 66 deg. 30' | 280 | 69 deg. | 150 | Ross |
| | | | | | |
| Feb. 1, 1895 | 66 deg. 15' | 300 | 69 deg. 45' | 210 | Kristensen |
| | | | | | |
| Feb. 8, 1899 | 66 deg. 0' | 315 | 69 deg. 0' | 180 | Borchgravink |
| | | | | | |
| Feb. 27, 1904 | ? | | 70 deg. 30' | ? | Scott |
| | | | | | |
| Feb. 15, 1910 | nil | | nil | | _Terra Nova_ |
| | | | | | |
| Mar. 13, 1912 | nil | | nil | | _Terra Nova_ |
| | | | | | |
| Jan. 30, 1913 | nil | | nil | | _Terra Nova_ |
+---------------+----------+--------+----------+---------+--------------+
_Note._--Ross, Kristensen, Scott, Shackleton and Pennell all, however,
found pack late in the season while trying to work west along the coast
when only some forty-five to seventy-five miles north of Cape Adare, and
all were turned by this pack.
According to Pennell, it appears probable that there is a great hang of
pack in the sea west of Cape Adare and south of the Balleny Islands, and
most likely it is here that the Adelies repair when they leave Cape
Adare rookery in the autumn. I think, however, it is safe to assume that
they seek the northernmost limits of the pack during the winter, as
these would offer the most favourable conditions.
TABLE B
+---------------+-----------+----------+---------+----------------------+
| | | Northern | Extends | Minutes of latitude |
| Date | Longitude | limit |N. and S.| Northern limit is N. |
| | | | Miles | of Cape Adare |
+---------------+-----------+----------+---------+----------------------+
| Jan. 12, 1840 | 166 deg. E. | 64 deg. 30' | -- | 400 (Wilkes) |
| | | | | |
| Jan. 3, 1902 | 178 deg. E. | 67 deg. S. | 140 | 250 (_Discovery_) |
| | | | | |
| Dec. 31, 1902 | 180 deg. E. | 66 deg. 30' | 60 | 280 (_Morning_) |
| | | | | |
| |Second belt| 69 deg. | 30 | 130 (_Morning_) |
| | | | | |
| Dec. 20, 1908 | 178 deg. W. | 66 deg. 30' | 60 | 270 (_Nimrod_) |
| | | | | |
| Dec. 9, 1910 | 178 deg. W. | 64 deg. 45' | 300 | 390 (_Terra Nova_) |
| | | | | |
| Dec. 27, 1911 | 177 deg. W. | 65 deg. 20' | 160 | 360 (_Terra Nova_) |
| | | | | |
| Mar. 8, 1911 | 162 deg. E. | 64 deg. 30' | 270 | 400 (_Terra Nova_) |
+---------------+-----------+----------+---------+----------------------+
[Illustration: Fig. 8. "... And later, form the Beautiful Terraces of
the Ice-foot"]
[Illustration: Fig. 9. Penguins at the Rookery (Page 18)]
The exact whereabouts of the Adelie penguins during the winter months
has been much discussed by different writers. It is agreed that they
repair to the pack-ice, but our knowledge of the movements of this pack
is very vague at the present time, and so unfortunately I can give but a
rough idea of the subject.
I have collected and noted down the latest evidence for the benefit of
the zoologists of future expeditions who may wish to investigate the
matter further, and I am indebted for nearly the whole of it to
Commander Harry L. Pennell, R.N., commander of the _Terra Nova_ from
1910 to 1913, who kindly drew up for me Tables A and B (_see_ pp. 13 and
14).
Probably the information which more nearly concerns the penguins of Cape
Adare rookery will be found in Table A. The birds from Cape Crozier and
Cape Royds rookeries must have some four hundred miles further to travel
when they go North in the autumn than those at Cape Adare.
PART I
THE FASTING PERIOD
Diary from October 13 to November 3, describing the arrival of the
Adelie penguins at the rookery, and habits during the periods of mating
and building.
The first Adelie penguins arrived at the Ridley Beach rookery, Cape
Adare, on October 13. A blizzard came on then, with thick drift which
prevented any observations being made. The next day, when this subsided,
there were no penguins to be seen.
On October 15 two of them were loitering about the beach. During the
forenoon they were separate, but in the afternoon they kept company, and
walked over to the south-east corner of the rookery under the cliff of
Cape Adare, where they were sheltered from the cold breeze.
On October 16 at 11 A.M. there were about twenty penguins arrived.
Several came singly, and one little party of three came up together. On
arrival they wandered about by themselves, and stood or walked about the
beach, giving one the impression of simply hanging about, waiting for
something to "turn up."
By 4 P.M. there must have been close on a hundred penguins at the
rookery. It was a calm day and misty, so that I could not see far out
across the sea-ice, but so far it was evident that the birds were not
arriving in batches, but just dribbling in. They were then for the most
part squatting about the rookery, well scattered, some solitary, others
in groups, and facing in all directions. (Fig. 9.) They were not on the
prominences where the nesting sites are, but in the hollows and on the
snow of the frozen lakes. There was no sign of love-making or any
activity whatever. All were in fine plumage and condition.
During the night of October 16 the number of penguins increased greatly,
and on the morning of the 17th there was a thin sprinkling scattered
over the rookery. (Fig. 11.) A few were in pairs or threes, but more in
groups of a dozen or more, and all the birds were very phlegmatic, many
of them lying on their breasts, with beaks outstretched, apparently
asleep, and nearly all, as yesterday, in the hollows, though there was
no wind, and away from the nesting sites. They were very quiet. Probably
they were fatigued after their journey; perhaps also they were waiting
the stimulation of a greater crowd before starting their breeding
operations. As the guano-covered ridges, on which the old nests are,
were fairly soft and the pebbles loose, they were not waiting for higher
temperatures in order to get to work.
During October 17 the arrivals became gradually more frequent. They were
dribbling up from the sea-ice at the north-end of the beach, and soon
made a well-worn track up the ice-foot, whilst a long line of birds
approaching in single file, with some gaps, extended to the horizon in a
northerly direction.
During the day I noticed some penguins taking possession of old nests on
the ridges. These mostly squatted in the nests without any attempt at
repairing them or rearrangement of any sort. Afterwards I found that
they were unmated hens waiting for mates to come to them, and that this
was a very common custom among them. (Fig. 10.) If two occupied nests
within reach of one another they would stretch out their necks and peck
at each other. Their endeavour seemed to be to peck each other's tongue,
and this they frequently did, but generally struck the soft parts round
the margin of the bills, which often became a good deal swollen in
consequence. Often also their beaks would become interlocked. They would
keep up this peck-pecking hour after hour in a most relentless fashion.
(Fig. 12.) On one occasion I saw a hen succeed in driving another off
one of the old nests which she occupied. The vanquished one squatted on
the ground a few yards away, with rumpled feathers and "huffy"
appearance, whilst the other walked on to the nest and assumed the
"ecstatic" attitude (page 46). Nothing but animosity could have induced
this act, as thousands of old unoccupied nests lay all around.
About 9 P.M. a light snowstorm came on, and those few birds who had
taken possession of nests, left them, and all now lay in the hollows,
nestling into the fine drift which soon covered the ground to the extent
of a few inches. A group of about a dozen penguins which arrived near
the ice-foot in the morning, halted on the sea-ice without ascending the
little slope leading to the rookery, and stayed there all day.
With the few exceptions I have noted above, all the birds that had
arrived so far either were much fatigued, or else they realized that
they had come a little too soon and were waiting for some psychological
moment to arrive, for they were all strangely quiet and inactive.
[Illustration: Fig. 10. IN THE FOREGROUND A MATED PAIR HAVE BEGUN TO
BUILD. BEHIND AND TO THE RIGHT TWO UNMATED HENS LIE IN THEIR SCOOPS
(Page 19)]
On October 18 the weather cleared and a fair number of penguins started
to build their nests. The great majority however, apparently resting,
still sat about. Those that built took their stones from old nests, as
at present so many of these lay unoccupied. They made quite large nests,
some inches high at the sides, with a comfortable hollow in the middle
to sit in. The stone carrying (Fig. 20) was done by the male birds, the
hens keeping continual guard over the nest, as otherwise the pair would
have been robbed of the fruits of their labours as fast as they were
acquired.
As I strolled through the rookery, most of the birds took little or no
notice of me. Some, however, swore at me very savagely, and one
infuriated penguin rushed at me from a distance of some ten yards,
seizing the leg of my wind-proof trousers. In the morning quite a large
number lay down on the sea-ice, a few yards short of the rookery,
content apparently to have got so far. They lay there all day,
motionless on their breasts, with their chins outstretched on the snow.
By the evening of October 18 most of the penguins had gathered in little
groups on the nest-covered eminences, but there was at that time ample
room for all, there being only about three or four thousand arrived.
Although there were several open water holes against bergs frozen into
the sea-ice some half mile or so away, not a single bird attempted to
get food.
At 6 P.M. the whole rookery appeared to sleep, and the ceaseless
chattering of the past hours gave place to a dead and impressive
silence, though here and there an industrious little bird might be seen
busily fetching stone after stone to his nest.
At that date it was deeply dusk at midnight, though the sun was very
quickly rising in altitude, and continuous daylight would soon overtake
us.
[Illustration: Fig. 11. THE ROOKERY BEGINNING TO FILL UP (Page 18)]
By the morning of October 19 there had been a good many more arrivals,
but the rookery was not yet more than one-twentieth part full. All the
birds were fasting absolutely. Nest building was now in full swing, and
the whole place waking up to activity. Most of the pebbles for the new
nests were being taken from old nests, but a great deal of robbery went
on nevertheless. Depredators when caught were driven furiously away, and
occasionally chased for some distance, and it was curious to see the
difference in the appearance between the fleeing thief and his pursuer.
As the former raced and ducked about among the nests, doubling on his
tracks, and trying by every means to get lost in the crowd and so rid
himself of his pursuer, his feathers lay close back on his skin, giving
him a sleek look which made him appear half the size of the irate
nest-holder who sought to catch him, with feathers ruffled in
indignation. This at first led me to think that the hens were larger
than the cocks, as it was generally the hen who was at home, and the
cock who was after the stones, but later I found that sex makes
absolutely no difference in the size of the birds, or indeed in their
appearance at all, as seen by the human eye. After mating, their
behaviour as well as various outward signs serve to distinguish male
from female. Besides this certain differences in their habits, which I
will describe in another place, are to be noted.
The consciousness of guilt, however, always makes a penguin smooth his
feathers and look small, whilst indignation has the opposite effect.
Often when observing a knoll crowded with nesting penguins, I have seen
an apparently under-sized individual slipping quietly along among the
nests, and always by his subsequent proceedings he has turned out to be
a robber on the hunt for his neighbours' stones. The others, too, seemed
to know it, and would have a peck at him as he passed them.
At last he would find a hen seated unwarily on her nest, slide up behind
her, deftly and silently grab a stone, and run off triumphantly with it
to his mate who was busily arranging her own home. Time after time he
would return to the same spot, the poor depredated nest-holder being
quite oblivious of the fact that the side of her nest which lay behind
her was slowly but surely vanishing stone by stone.
Here could be seen how much individual character makes for success or
failure in the efforts of the penguins to produce and rear their
offspring. There are vigilant birds, always alert, who seem never to get
robbed or molested in any way: these have big high nests, made with
piles of stones. Others are unwary and get huffed as a result. There are
a few even who, from weakness of character, actually allow stronger
natured and more aggressive neighbours to rob them under their very
eyes.
[Illustration: Fig. 12. "The Hens would keep up this Peck-pecking hour
after Hour"]
[Illustration: Fig. 13. An Affectionate Couple (Page 26)]
In speaking of the robbery which is such a feature of the rookery during
nest building, special note must be made of the fact that violence is
never under any circumstances resorted to by the thieves. When detected,
these invariably beat a retreat, and offer not the least resistance to
the drastic punishment they receive if they are caught by their
indignant pursuers. The only disputes that ever take place over the
question of property are on the rare occasions when a _bona-fide_
misunderstanding arises over the possession of a nest. These must be
very rare indeed, as only on one occasion have I seen such a quarrel
take place. The original nesting sites being, as I will show, chosen by
the hens, it is the lady, in every case, who is the cause of the battle,
and when she is won her scoop goes with her to the victor.
As I grew to know these birds from continued observation, it was
surprising and interesting to note how much they differed in character,
though the weaker-minded who would actually allow themselves to be
robbed, were few and far between, as might be expected. Few, if any, of
these ever could succeed in hatching their young and winning them
through to the feathered stage.
When starting to make her nest, the usual procedure is for the hen to
squat on the ground for some time, probably to thaw it, then working
with her claws to scratch away at the material beneath her, shooting out
the rubble behind her. As she does this she shifts her position in a
circular direction until she has scraped out a round hollow. Then the
cock brings stones, performing journey after journey, returning each
time with one pebble in his beak which he deposits in front of the hen
who places it in position.
Sometimes the hollow is lined with a neat pavement of stones placed side
by side, one layer deep, on which the hen squats, afterwards building up
the sides around her. At other times the scoop would be filled up
indiscriminately by a heap of pebbles on which the hen then sat, working
herself down into a hollow in the middle.
Individuals differ, not only in their building methods, but also in the
size of the stones they select. Side by side may be seen a nest composed
wholly of very big stones, so large that it is a matter for wonder how
the birds can carry them, and another nest of quite small stones.
(Fig. 14.)
Different couples seem to vary much in character or mood. Some can be
seen quarrelling violently, whilst others appear most affectionate, and
the tender politeness of some of these latter toward one another is very
pretty to see. (Fig. 13.)
[Illustration: Fig. 14. "SIDE BY SIDE ... NESTS OF VERY BIG STONES AND
NESTS OF VERY SMALL STONES" (Page 26)]
I may here mention that the temperatures were rising considerably by
October 19, ranging about zero F.
During October 20 the stream of arrivals was incessant. Some mingled at
once with the crowd, others lay in batches on the sea-ice a few yards
short of the rookery, content to have got so far, and evidently feeling
the need for rest after their long journey from the pack. The greater
part of this journey was doubtless performed by swimming, as they
crossed open water, but I think that much of it must have been done on
foot over many miles of sea-ice, to account for the fatigue of many of
them.
Their swimming I will describe later. On the ice they have two modes of
progression. The first is simple walking. Their legs being very short,
their stride amounts at most to four inches. Their rate of stepping
averages about one hundred and twenty steps per minute when on the
march.
Their second mode of progression is "tobogganing." When wearied by
walking or when the surface is particularly suitable, they fall forward
on to their white breasts, smooth and shimmering with a beautiful
metallic lustre in the sunlight, and push themselves along by alternate
powerful little strokes of their legs behind them.
When quietly on the march, both walking and tobogganing produce the same
rate of progression, so that the string of arriving birds, tailing out
in a long line as far as the horizon, appears as a well-ordered
procession. I walked out a mile or so along this line, standing for some
time watching it tail past me and taking the photographs with which I
have illustrated the scene. Most of the little creatures seemed much out
of breath, their wheezy respiration being distinctly heard.
First would pass a string of them walking, then a dozen or so
tobogganing. (Fig. 15.) Suddenly those that walked would flop on to
their breasts and start tobogganing, and conversely strings of
tobogganers would as suddenly pop up on to their feet and start walking.
In this way they relieved the monotony of their march, and gave
periodical rest to different groups of muscles and nerve-centres.
The surface of the snow on the sea-ice varied continually, and over any
very smooth patches the pedestrians almost invariably started to
toboggan, whilst over "bad going" they all had perforce to walk.
Figs. 16, 17, 18 and 19 present some idea of the procession of these
thousands on thousands of penguins as day after day they passed into the
rookery.
[Illustration: Fig. 15. ON THE MARCH TO THE ROOKERY OVER THE SEA-ICE.
SOME ARE WALKING AND SOME "TOBOGGANING" (Page 28)]
When tobogganing, turning to one side or the other is done with one or
more strokes of the opposite flipper. When fleeing or chasing, both
flippers as well as both feet are used in propulsion, and over most
surfaces tobogganing is thus their fastest mode of progression, but when
going at full tilt it is also the most exhausting, and after a short
spurt in this way they invariably return to the walking position.
By October 20 many of the nests were complete, and the hens sat in them,
though no eggs were to be seen yet. In the middle of one of the frozen
lakes rose a little island, well suited for nesting except for the fact
that later in the season, probably about the time when the young chicks
were hatched, the lake would be thawed and the approach to the island
only to be accomplished through about six inches or more of dirty water
and ooze. Until then, however, the surface of the lake would remain
frozen, and was at this time covered with snow.
Not a penguin attempted to build its nest on this island, though many
passed it or walked over it in crossing the lake. How did they realize
that later on they would get dirty every time they journeyed to or from
the spot?
Not far from this island another mound rose from the lake, but this was
connected with the "mainland" by a narrow neck of guano-covered pebbles.
This mound was covered with nests, showing that the birds understood
this place could always be reached over dry land. Surely this was well
worth remarking.
There was a part of the ice-foot on the south side of the rookery where
a track worn by many ascending penguins could be seen, leading from the
sea-ice on to the beach. The place was steep and the ice slippery, and,
in fact, the track led straight up a most difficult ascent. Not ten
yards from this well-worn track a perfectly easy slope led up from the
sea-ice to the rookery. The tracks in the freshly fallen snow showed
that only one penguin had gone up this way. Presumably the first arrival
in that place had taken the difficult path, and all subsequent arrivals
blindly followed in his tracks, whilst only one had had the good luck or
independence to choose the easier way.
On October 21 many thousands of penguins arrived from the northerly
direction, and poured on to the beach in a continuous stream, the snaky
line of arrivals extending unbroken across the sea-ice as far as the eye
could see.
[Illustration: Fig. 16. PART OF THE LINE OF APPROACHING BIRDS, SEVERAL
MILES IN LENGTH (Page 28)]
A great many now started to climb the heights up the precipitous side of
Cape Adare and to build their nests as far as the summit, a height of
some 1000 feet, although there was still room for many thousand more
down below. What could be their object, considering the wearisome
journeys they would have to make to feed their young, it is impossible
to say. It might be the result of the same spirit which made them spread
out in little scattered groups over the rookery when only a few had
arrived, and that they prefer wider room, only putting up with the
greater crowding which ensues later as a necessary evil. There is,
however, another explanation which I will discuss in another place.
At 9 P.M. it was getting dusk, and the rookery comparatively silent,
although on some of the knolls two or three birds might be seen still
busily working, toddling to and fro fetching stones. The other thousands
lay at rest, their white breasts flat on the ground, and only their
black beaks and heads visible as they lay with their chins stretched
forward on the ground, whilst in place of the massed discord of clamour
heard during the day, the separate voices of some of the busy ones were
distinct. A fine powdering of snow was falling.
It would be difficult to estimate the number of penguins that poured
into the rookery during the following day. There was no evidence that
any pairing had taken place on or before the march, and the birds all
had the appearance of being quite independent.
Far away from the beach the line had become thicker, and was no longer
in single file, the progress of the birds being slow and steady, but
when within half a mile or so from the beach, excitement seemed to take
possession of them, and they would break into a run, hastening over the
remaining distance, the line now being a thin one, with slight curves in
it, each bird running, with wide gait, and outstretched flippers working
away in unison with its little legs. In fact, the whole air of the line
at this time was that of a school-treat arrived in sight of its
playing-fields, and breaking into a run in its eagerness to get there.
[Illustration: Fig. 17. ARRIVING AT THE ROOKERY (Page 28)]
Arrived at the rookery, and plunged suddenly amidst the din of that
squalling, fighting, struggling crowd, the contrast with the dead
silence and loneliness of the pack-ice they had so recently left, was as
great a one as can well be imagined; yet once there, the birds seemed
collected and at home. This was a matter of surprise to me then, but I
remember now my own sensations on arriving home after my life in the
Antarctic, and that I felt only slightly the sudden return to the bustle
of civilization.
Our presence among them made little or no difference to the penguins.
When we passed them closely they would bridle up and swear or even run
at us and peck at our legs or batter them with their flippers, but
unless their nesting operations were interfered with this attack was
short-lived, and the next moment the birds would seem to forget our very
existence. If I walked by the side of a long, nest-covered ridge, a low
growl arose from every bird as I passed it, and the massed sound,
gathering in front and dying away behind as I advanced, reminded me
forcibly of the sound of the crowds on the towing-path at the 'Varsity
boatrace as the crews pass up the river.
Walking actually among the nests, your temper is tried sorely, as every
bird within reach has a peck at your legs, and occasionally a cock
attacks you bravely, battering you with his little flippers in a manner
ludicrous at first but aggravating after a time, as the operation is
painful and severe enough to leave bruises behind it, and naturally this
begins to pall. The courage of these little birds is most remarkable and
admirable.
Our hut, being built on the rookery, could only be approached through
crowds of penguins. Those that nested near us seemed quickly to become
used to us and to take less notice of us than those farther off. One
thing, however, terrified them pitiably. We had to fetch ice for our
water from some stranded floes on the ice-foot, and this we did in a
little sledge. As we hauled this rattling over the pebbly rookery it
made a good deal of noise, and in its path nests were deserted, the
occupants fleeing in the greatest confusion, a clear road being left for
the sledge, whilst on either side a line of penguins was seen retreating
in the utmost terror. After about a minute, they returned to their
places and seemed to forget the incident, but we were very sorry to
frighten them in this way, as we endeavoured to live at peace with them
and to molest them as little as possible, and we feared that later on
eggs might be spilt from the nests and broken. As time went on, those on
the route of the sledge became accustomed even to this, and we were able
to choose a course which cleared their nests.
[Illustration: Fig. 18. ARRIVING AT THE ROOKERY. IN THE BACKGROUND IS
THE CLIFF UP WHICH MANY OF THE BIRDS CLIMB TO MAKE THEIR NESTS AT THE
SUMMIT (Page 28)]
Although squabbles and encounters had been frequent since their arrival
in any numbers, it now became manifest that there were two very
different types of battle; first, the ordinary quarrelling consequent on
disputes over nests and the robbery of stones from these, and secondly,
the battles between cocks who fought for the hens. These last were more
earnest and severe, and were carried to a finish, whereas the first
named rarely proceeded to extremes.
In regard to the mating of the birds, the following most interesting
customs seemed to be prevalent.
The hen would establish herself on an old nest, or in some cases scoop
out a hollow in the ground and sit in or by this, waiting for a mate to
propose himself. (Fig. 26.) She would not attempt to build while she
remained unmated. During the first week of the nesting season, when
plenty of fresh arrivals were continually pouring into the rookery, she
did not have long to wait as a rule. Later, when the rookery was getting
filled up, and only a few birds remained unmated in that vast crowd of
some three-quarters of a million, her chances were not so good.
For example, on November 16 on a knoll thickly populated by mated birds,
many of which already had eggs, a hen was observed to have scooped a
little hollow in the ground and to be sitting in this. Day after day she
sat on looking thinner and sadder as time passed and making no attempt
to build her nest. At last, on November 27, she had her reward, for I
found that a cock had joined her, and she was busily building her nest
in the little scoop she had made so long before, her husband steadily
working away to provide her with the necessary pebbles. Her forlorn
appearance of the past ten days had entirely given place to an air of
occupation and happiness.
As time went on I became certain that invariably pairing took place
after arrival at the rookery. On October 23 I went to the place where
the stream of arrivals was coming up the beach, and presently followed a
single bird, which I afterwards found to be a cock, to see what it was
going to do. He threaded his way through nearly the whole length of the
rookery by himself, avoiding the tenanted knolls where the nests were,
by keeping to the emptier hollows. About every hundred yards or so he
stopped, ruffled up his feathers, closed his eyes for a moment, then
"smoothed himself out" and went on again, thus evidently struggling
against desire for sleep after his journey. As he progressed he
frequently poked his little head forward and from side to side, peering
up at the knolls, evidently in search of something.
[Illustration: Fig. 19. Adelies arriving at the Rookery]
[Illustration: Fig. 20. A Cock carrying a Stone to his Nest (Page 21)]
Arrived at length at the south end of the rookery, he appeared suddenly
to make up his mind, and boldly ascending a knoll which was well
tenanted and covered with nests, walked straight up to one of these on
which a hen sat. There was a cock standing at her side, but my little
friend either did not see him or wished to ignore him altogether. He
stuck his beak into the frozen ground in front of the nest, lifted up
his head and made as if to place an imaginary stone in front of the hen,
a most obvious piece of dumb show. The hen took not the slightest notice
nor did her mate.
My friend then turned and walked up to another nest, a yard or so off,
where another cock and hen were. The cock flew at him immediately, and
after a short fight, in which each used his flippers savagely, he was
driven clean down the side of the knoll away from the nests, the
victorious cock returning to his hen. The newcomer, with the persistence
which characterises his kind, came straight back to the same nest and
stood close by it, soon ruffling his feathers and evidently settling
himself for a doze, but, I suppose, because he made no further overtures
the others took no notice of him at all, as, overcome by sheer
weariness, he went to sleep and remained so until I was too cold to
await further developments. On my way back to our hut I followed another
cock for about thirty yards, when he walked up to another couple at a
nest and gave battle to the cock. He, too, was driven off after a short
and decisive fight. Soon there were many cocks on the war-path. Little
knots of them were to be seen about the rookery, the lust of battle in
them, watching and fighting each other with desperate jealousy, and the
later the season advanced the more "bersac" they became.
A typical scene I find described in my notes for October 25 when I was
out with my camera, and I mention it as a type of the hundreds that were
proceeding simultaneously over the whole rockery, and also because I was
able to photograph different stages of the proceedings as follows:
Fig. 22 shows a group of three cocks engaged in bitter rivalry round a
hen who is cowering in her scoop in which she had been waiting as is
their custom. She appeared to be bewildered and agitated by the
desperate behaviour of the cocks.
[Illustration: Fig. 21. SEVERAL INTERESTING THINGS ARE TAKING PLACE
HERE (Page 43)]
On Fig. 23 a further development is depicted, and two of the cocks are
seen to be squaring up for battle. Close behind and to the right of them
are seen (from left to right) the hen and the third cock, who are
watching to see the result of the contest, and another hen cowering for
protection against a cock with whom she has become established.
Fig. 24 shows the two combatants hard at it, using their weight as they
lean their breasts against one another, and rain in the blows with their
powerful flippers.
Fig. 25 shows the end of the fight, the victor having rushed the
vanquished cock before him out of the crowd and on to a patch of snow on
which, as he was too brave to turn and run, he knocked him down and gave
him a terrible hammering.
When his conqueror left him at length, he lay for some two minutes or so
on the ground, his heaving breast alone showing that he was alive, so
completely exhausted was he, but recovering himself at length he arose
and crawled away, a damaged flipper hanging limply by his side, and he
took no further part in the proceedings. The victorious bird rushed back
up the side of the knoll, and immediately fought the remaining cock, who
had not moved from his original position, putting him to flight, and
chasing him in and out of the crowd, the fugitive doubling and twisting
amongst it in a frantic endeavour to get away, and I quickly lost sight
of them.
Scenes of this kind became so common all over the rookery, that the roar
of battle and thuds of blows could be heard continuously, and of the
hundreds of such fights, all plainly had their cause in rivalry for the
hens.
When starting to fight, the cocks sometimes peck at each other with
their beaks, but always they very soon start to use their flippers,
standing up to one another and raining in the blows with such rapidity
as to make a sound which, in the words of Dr. Wilson, resembles that of
a boy running and dragging his hoop-stick along an iron paling. Soon
they start "in-fighting," in which position one bird fights
right-handed, the other left-handed; that is to say, one leans his left
breast against his opponent, swinging in his blows with his right
flippers, the other presenting his right breast and using his left
flipper. My photographs of cocks fighting all show this plainly. It is
interesting to note that these birds, though fighting with one flipper
only, are ambidextrous. Whilst battering one another with might and main
they use their weight at the same time, and as one outlasts the other,
he drives his vanquished opponent before him over the ground, as a
trained boxing man, when "in-fighting" drives his exhausted opponent
round the ring.
[Illustration: Fig. 22. Three Cocks in Rivalry (See page 38)]
[Illustration: Fig. 23. Two of the Cocks squaring up for Battle
(See page 38)]
Desperate as these encounters are, I don't think one penguin ever kills
another. In many cases blood is drawn. I saw one with an eye put out,
and that side of its beak (the right side) clotted with blood, whilst
the crimson print of a blood-stained flipper across a white breast was
no uncommon sight.
Hard as they can hit with their flippers, however, they are also well
protected by their feathers, and being marvellously tough and enduring
the end of a hard fight merely finds the vanquished bird prostrate with
exhaustion and with most of the breath beaten out of his little body.
The victor is invariably satisfied with this, and does not seek to
dispatch him with his beak.
It was very usual to see a little group of cocks gathered together in
the middle of one of the knolls squabbling noisily. Sometimes half a
dozen would be lifting their raucous voices at one particular bird, then
they would separate into pairs, squaring up to one another and
emphasizing their remarks from time to time by a few quick blows from
their flippers. It seemed that each was indignant with the others for
coming and spoiling his chances with a coveted hen, and trying to get
them to depart before he went to her.
It was useless for either to attempt overtures whilst the others were
there, for the instant he did so, he would be set upon and a desperate
fight begin. Usually, as in the case I described above, one of the
little crowd would suddenly "see red" and sail into an opponent with
desperate energy, invariably driving him in the first rush down the side
of the knoll to the open space surrounding it, where the fight would be
fought out, the victor returning to the others, until by his prowess and
force of character, he would rid himself of them all. Then came his
overtures to the hen. He would, as a rule, pick up a stone and lay it in
front of her if she were sitting in her "scoop," or if she were standing
by it he might himself squat in it. She might take to him kindly, or, as
often happened, peck him furiously. To this he would submit tamely,
hunching up his feathers and shutting his eyes while she pecked him
cruelly. Generally after a little of this she would become appeased. He
would rise to his feet, and in the prettiest manner edge up to her,
gracefully arch his neck, and with soft guttural sounds pacify her and
make love to her.
[Illustration: Fig. 24. "Hard at it" (See page 39)]
[Illustration: Fig. 25. The End of the Battle (Page 39)]
Both perhaps would then assume the "ecstatic" attitude, rocking their
necks from side to side as they faced one another (Fig. 26), and after
this a perfect understanding would seem to grow up between them, and the
solemn compact was made.
It is difficult to convey in words the daintiness of this pretty little
scene. I saw it enacted many dozens of times, and it was wonderful to
watch one of these hardy little cocks pacifying a fractious hen by the
perfect grace of his manners.
Fig. 21 is particularly instructive. In the centre of the picture a
group of cocks are quarrelling, and on the left-hand side three unmated
hens can be seen sitting in their scoops, whilst two of them (the two in
front) are receiving overtures from two of the cocks who are making the
most of their time whilst the others are fighting. On the right-hand
side another cock is seen proposing himself to a fourth hen who seems to
be meeting his overtures with the usual show of reluctance.
Although for the later arrivals a good deal of fighting was necessary
before a mate could be secured, it seemed that some got the matter fixed
up without any difficulty at all, especially during the earlier days
when only a few birds were scattered widely over the rookery. Later, the
cocks seemed to watch one another jealously, and to hunt in little
batches in consequence. (Figs. 27, 28, and 29.)
From the particulars I have just given it is also evident that a wife
and home once obtained could only be kept by dint of further battling
and constant vigilance during the first stages of domesticity, when
thousands of lusty cocks were pouring into the rookery, and it was not
unusual to see a strange cock paying court to a mated hen in the absence
of her husband until he returned to drive away the interloper, but I do
not think that this ever occurred after the eggs had come and the
regular family life begun, couples after this being perfectly faithful
to one another.
The instance I have given of a newly arrived cock by dumb show
pretending to take a stone and place it before a mated hen, is typical
of the sort of first overture one sees, though more frequently an actual
stone was tendered. While on this subject I had better mention a most
interesting thing which occurred to one of my companions. One day as he
was sitting quietly on some shingle near the ice-foot, a penguin
approached him, and after eyeing him for a little, walked right up to
him and nibbled gently at one of the legs of his wind-proof trousers.
Then it walked away, picked up a pebble, and came back with it, dropping
it on the ground by his side. The only explanation of this occurrence
seems to be that the tendering of the stone was meant as an overture of
friendship.
[Illustration: Fig. 26. THE PROPOSAL. (NOTE THE HEN IN HER SCOOP)
(Pages 35 and 43)]
On October 26 there was no abatement in the stream of arrivals. The
cock-fighting continued, and many of them, temporarily disabled, were to
be seen moping about the rookery, smeared with blood and guano. Often a
hen would join in when two cocks were fighting, occasionally going first
for one and then the other, but I never to my knowledge saw a cock
retaliate on a hen.
Once I saw two cocks fighting, and a hen taking the part of one of the
cocks, the pair of them gave the other a fearful hammering, the hen
using her bill savagely as well as her flippers. Completely knocked out
and gasping for breath he got away at last, only to meet another cock
who fought him and easily beat him. When this one had gone a third came,
and the poor victim with a courage truly noble was squaring himself up
with his last spark of energy, when I interfered and drove away his
enemy.
The nests on most of the knolls soon became so crowded that their
occupants, by stretching out their necks, could reach their neighbours
without getting up. As every hen appeared to hate her neighbour they
would peck-peck at one another hour after hour, in the manner seen in my
photograph,(3) till their mouths and heads became terribly sore.
Occasionally they would desist, shake their heads apparently from pain,
then at it again.
(3) Fig. 12.
In various places through the course of these pages, reference is made
to the "ecstatic" attitude of the penguins. This antic is gone through
by both sexes and at various times, though much more frequently during
the actual breeding season. The bird rears its body upward and
stretching up its neck in a perpendicular line, discharges a volley of
guttural sounds straight at the unresponding heavens. At the same time
the clonic movements of its syrinx or "sound box" distinctly can be seen
going on in its throat. Why it does this I have never been able to make
out, but it appears to be thrown into this ecstasy when it is pleased;
in fact, the zoologist of the "Pourquoi Pas" expedition termed it the
"Chant de satisfaction." I suppose it may be likened to the crowing of a
cock or the braying of an ass. When one bird of a pair starts to perform
in this way, the other usually starts at once to pacify it. Very many
times I saw this scene enacted when nesting was in progress. The two
might be squatting by the nest when one would arise to assume the
"ecstatic" attitude and make the guttural sounds in its syrinx.
Immediately the other would get close up to it and make the following
noise in a soft soothing tone:
[Illustration: A-ah]
Always and immediately this caused the musician to subside and settle
itself down again.
[Illustration: Fig. 27. Cocks fighting for Hens]
[Illustration: Fig. 28. Cocks fighting for Hens (Page 44)]
The King penguin at the Zoological Gardens, whose sex is unknown, throws
itself into the ecstatic attitude and sings a sort of song when its
keeper strokes its neck. The blackfooted penguins never do it, though
they breed several times a year. Figs. 26 and 32 show Adelies in
ecstatic attitude.
To-day about a dozen skua gulls (_Megalestris Makormiki_) appeared for
the first time. They did not start to nest, but sat on the sea-ice with
a group of penguins, in apparent amity. A few occasionally flew about
over the rookery.
On October 27 though the stream of arrivals continued there were wide
gaps in it. It appeared to be thinning. For an hour in the forenoon it
stopped altogether, and at the end of this time a storm of wind from the
south struck us and continued for another hour with thick drift.
Probably clear of Cape Adare the wind had been blowing before it reached
us, and had stopped the birds' progress across the ice.
During the storm the rookery was completely silenced, most of the birds
lying with their heads to the wind. A good many skuas arrived that day.
Some chips of white, glistening quartz had been thrown down by our hut
door recently, and later I found two of these chips in a nest about
thirty yards away, showing up brightly against the black basalt of which
all the pebbles on the rookery were composed.
As a rule the penguins were careful to select rounded stones for their
nests, but these fragments of quartz were jagged and uncomfortable, and
most unsuitable for nest building. Thus it was evidently the brightness
of the stones which attracted them. Whilst I looked on, the owners of
the pieces of quartz were wrangling with their neighbours, and a penguin
in a nest behind shot out its beak and stole one of the pieces, placing
it in its own nest. I had brought Campbell out to show him the pieces of
quartz, and he witnessed the last incident with me.
[Illustration: Fig. 29. Cocks fighting for Hens (Page 44)]
[Illustration: Fig. 30. Penguin on Nest]
I may here mention an experiment I tried some days later. I painted some
pebbles a bright red and had others covered with bright green cotton
material as I had no other coloured paint. Mixing a handful of these
coloured stones together I placed them in a little heap amongst natural
black ones near a nest-covered knoll. Returning in a few hours I found
nearly all the red stones and one or two of the green ones gone, and
later found them in nests. Later still, all the red ones had
disappeared, and last of all the green ones. I traced nearly all these
to nests, and found a few days later that, like the pieces of white
quartz, they were being stolen from nest to nest and thus slowly being
distributed in different directions. At other times I saw pieces of tin,
pieces of glass, half a stick of chocolate, and the head of a bright
metal teaspoon in different nests near our hut, the articles evidently
having been taken from our scrap-heap. Thus it is evident that penguins
like bright colours and prefer red to green, as instanced by the
selection of the coloured pebbles. I am sorry that I did not carry these
colour tests further.
During October 29 the stream of arrivals was undiminished, but the next
day it slackened considerably, and during the next two days stopped
altogether, all the rising ground of the rookery now being literally
crammed full with nests, several thousands of them being scattered up
the slopes of Cape Adare to a height of a thousand feet.
[Illustration: Fig. 31. Showing the Position of the Two Eggs]
[Illustration: Fig. 32. An Adelie in "Ecstatic" Attitude (Page 47)]