It was muddy, and smelled bad and was raining. We loved every minute of it. The chinstrap penguins were deafening in their ecstatic calling. Gentoo penguins brayed like donkeys while southern elephant seals grunted their deep-bellied utterances. Today we stepped foot on Antarctica.
Penguins returning from their offshore feeding trips clamored onto the beach and started their march up the hills toward their awaiting mates and chicks. The chicks are huge, almost the size of their doting parents. We watched the adult chinstraps feed their young who still stood on the nests. It was obvious that most of the nests were way too small for the growing chicks. Soon the chicks will be in nursery groups called crèches. Their weary parents will both go out on foraging trips to keep up with the food demands of their growing families. Meanwhile, the gentoo chicks, who are a bit older, chased their returning adults around the nest site like a slapstick comedy routine. They, however, were serious. They wanted food and their parent would relent after a lively chase.
Penguin chicks were not the only young ones being tended to. Kelp gulls had good-sized chicks hiding near the rocky slopes. Southern giant petrels lay motionless on the top of the island, covering their prized offspring, keeping them warm and dry. Skuas also had tiny beige fluff balls with legs and equally tiny beaks that they fed and guarded. The landing was full of new life. The promise of a future generation of wildlife was being nurtured.
The wildlife was everywhere. They eyed us with curiosity, not fear. We definitely weren’t one of them but we weren’t that different either. There was a feeling of acceptance of our presence. In return, we felt the joy and wonder that we felt as children. For awhile, on Hannah Point, the world was new again.
