The helicopter landed in a rock-ringed clearing on the beach. Looking out to sea, small waves ran up a dark sandy shore, and open water extended for a mile offshore before reaching a wide band of pack ice. Inland, a steep tan hillside of dusty scree and short cliff bands ran up several hundred feet. Skua gulls had fled from the arriving helicopter, and they could be seen wheeling along the cliffs.
We unloaded to a zone just outside the rotor diameter, and piled rocks on our lighter gear. In this 'hot unload', we were working under the still-running rotor of the helicopter, and at their tips the blades cracked overhead. The helicopter departed, and we began a long gear-shifting operation to move our equipment from the beach landing zone to our installation site 1/4 mile away and maybe 150 feet up. In the photo below, the Kiwi hut is roughly the halfway point: the installation site is out of frame on the ridge behind the hut and the helipad is well out of frame to the right. Probably could have taken a better photo. We hauled the 1500 pounds of cargo--mostly lead-acid batteries--up to the ridgetop weather station over the course of about two hours. It was a lot of heavy lifting. We really benefited from the gracious help of the Kiwi group working and living at Cape Bird: Keven, Amy, and John. They not only loaned us their wheelbarrows, but made delicious snowmelt tea and even carried some gear! We felt welcome working near their hut, and our walk with Keven was a great piece of natural history interpretation.
The installation itself went smoothly, and we anchored our frame with four big 1" stakes. The weather on the ridgeline was a little windy, but the sun was out and conditions were otherwise great. We were motivated by the incredible scene just up the coast from us, and our reward after an efficient and hard day's work was a walk up the beach into the midst of a noisy spectacle of Antarctic life.
Three weeks ago, I discovered a small colony of moss growing in tender lumps of sand. Since then, I have taken special care to search the Antarctic landscape for evidence of life. For the most part, the lifeforms I've identified have been simple, tenacious colonies of basic primary producers living off sunlight. They include moss, several lichens, and bright algae mats in small pools. Working near a rocky coastline with year-round open water, the productivity of the Southern Ocean was brought to bear on the Antarctic landscape. At Cape Bird, I walked in the midst of an active, healthy ecosystem with at least a four-layer food chain.
What did we find up the coast? Maybe you can recognize one member of this ecosystem by its environment, place in the food chain, and animal sign. In the following photos, look for this animal's primary food source, tracks, shedding debris, major predator, and a spot to raise its young. Lastly, see if you can recognize this animal by one of the many carcasses of its species that lie throughout this area.
What we found up the coast was a rookery of honking, trotting, molting Adélie Penguins!
Seventy-thousand birds were gathered in a loud, active colony over the entire hillside. On the ice floes that and shifted to just offshore, Adelies scooted quickly along on their bellies, or stood in small groups. In patches of open water, single birds or entire flocks could be seen skimming below the surface, then bursting airborne in smooth arcs--this porpoising behavior gave the penguins a quick view of the above-water environment. The beach was a highway for penguins on the move--some traveling along the beach and some departing or returning from nesting sites in the hills. On the hills, thousands upon thousands of loud, active penguins exhibited an amazing array of behaviors: territorial defense, chicks begging for food, parents out running their chicks for exercise, endless grooming, creche groups of chicks warding off attacking skua gulls, adults chasing each other off, and lots of birds simply on the move. The best of all: the beak-up sky-pointing display with its posture preparation, throat shaking, and the final triumphant gutteral buzz.
For the most part, we were ignored and moving birds simply re-routed around us. Some paused to examine us with a brief curious or wary look. Walking along the edge of the gentle surf, a larger wave washed inshore, and my quick jump back from the water received sharp protest honks. I tried to move slowly when in proximity to the penguins. Adélie penguins have nested here for ages, and the ground of the rookery was composed of many layers of small pebbles cemented together with penguin guano. Walking on the rookery piedmont was like hiking on a benonite mud hillside three weeks after the last rain--the ground had a slight give and the suggestion of past slickness. After a snowfall, it would be treacherous. The step from the beach to the guano terrace can be spotted in the photo below.
The penguin chicks were in the process of molting their gray down feathers, and their black and white plumage was emerging from under chunks of down. On closer inspection, the black feathers on the backs of the Adélies were actually tipped with a bright blue! Some young adult penguins were confused and still sitting on their pebble nests long past hatching time--Keven said that they sometimes protect a rock that they are misidentifying as their egg.
Like a shepherd protecting his flock, the skuas defend the penguins in their territories for their own personal consumption. We were repeatedly harassed by the skuas, who viewed us as a threat to the penguins in their territory. Many bloody carcasses were visible throughout the rookery, and it was interesting to see that for the most part, the skuas and penguins tolerated each others close proximity and only engaged in battle during the hunt.
The following photos contain some great views into life in the penguin colony. Look for molting penguin chicks, a penguin taking its chick for a run, pebble nests, puffed-up penguins in their heat-saving resting posture, skua gulls (and a skua chick!), the guano piedmont on which the colony sits, slick penguins emerging from the sea, Weddell seals and some beautiful glaciers and pack ice!
The jetsam along the beach was largely composed of brilliant pink krill! Several types of krill had washed up, and their 1/8" to 7/8" bodies were like tiny shrimp, mites, and lobster. Many were still alive and would move if touched.
I took two timelapses during our installation. They show an overview of the colony and sea ice moving in the current.
