Although the snow lingers, spring bursts forth here in the south just as it does in the northern climes that are so familiar to many of us. Birds sing and mankind begins a frenzy of outdoor activity.
Maybe singing is not quite the right term to use when referring to our feathered friends at this end of the world. Shouting might be a better description as our ears did not hear a musical quality emanating from the beaks of the knee-high inhabitants found on Half Moon Island’s highest ridges. Kelp gulls shrieked and Antarctic terns creaked while skulking brown skuas were basically silent as they hovered above scattered villages of chinstrap penguins. One might think the courting pairs of penguins were stone deaf. Necks extended and heads thrown back, their chests seemed to be pumping great quantities of air, aided by vigorous flapping of paddle-like wings. The resultant sound is rumored to be capable of “stone cracking.”
Spring-cleaning and renovations were in full swing. Absentee landowners had returned and construction materials were being collected, some of it in a manner one might describe as pure thievery. The brush-tailed penguins of the Antarctic have no soft vegetation with which to construct their nests. Instead they build platters of stones and any source of pebbles, big or small, is fair game, even if it is from a neighbor’s nest. Defending one’s home can be a tricky affair if eggs have already been laid and only one member of the pair is at home.
The organization of King George Island is much the same as the scattered penguin colonies. Several countries subdivide the space, each base a busy place, nearby but autonomous from the others. A tiny colorful Catholic church looked from the crest of one hill down upon the blue and white buildings of Chile’s Frei Station where incoming personnel prepared for the upcoming research season and homeward-bound workers waited for air transport to arrive. Freed from school for the weekend, the children of the island did what children do nearly everywhere. They held a bake sale and sold their crafts to a willing audience of National Geographic Explorer adventurers. The sound of chimes, barely perceptible above the whistle of the wind, drew us high upon the opposite ridge to a beautifully constructed Russian Orthodox church. Here it was obvious that although the personnel of Russia’s Bellingshausen Station are far from home, their spiritual well-being is an important part of life.
Night approaches with shades of gray just as the day begin. It signals the time for renewal of energy and synthesis of the sights and sounds of the day.
