Salisbury Plain, South Georgia Island
This morning in a strong wind, under lowering skies, Endeavour anchored off Salisbury Plain, Bay of Isles. The plain, a strand flat left by long-retreated glaciers, bears a remote resemblance to its namesake in southern England, a windswept grassland traditionally used as an army training ground. Here on South Georgia the troops are king penguins, upward of 30,000 of them. Their parade ground is the broad raised beach: their married quarters occupy an acre and more of muddy hinterland among the tussock grass, where they pair and raise their single-chick families. Kings are the second-largest of living penguins, certainly the most colorful and many would say by far the most elegant. At this time of year nearly all are freshly molted, in well-cut uniforms of silver-gray, with the golden-orange facings of a Ruritanian hussar. Over half have already laid their eggs and are taking turns to incubate or brood small chicks in the tightly-packed colony. Of the rest, many are standing or parading in pairs, sometimes in groups of three or four, clearly in the final throes of courtship. The remaining several thousand, many of them immature birds not yet ready to breed, parade back and forth along the beach. We watch them, and they watch us, critically inspecting our boots, nibbling at our knapsacks and walking sticks, and gathering in interested crowds around the Zodiacs as we leave the beach. They certainly made our day: I wonder if we made theirs?
This morning in a strong wind, under lowering skies, Endeavour anchored off Salisbury Plain, Bay of Isles. The plain, a strand flat left by long-retreated glaciers, bears a remote resemblance to its namesake in southern England, a windswept grassland traditionally used as an army training ground. Here on South Georgia the troops are king penguins, upward of 30,000 of them. Their parade ground is the broad raised beach: their married quarters occupy an acre and more of muddy hinterland among the tussock grass, where they pair and raise their single-chick families. Kings are the second-largest of living penguins, certainly the most colorful and many would say by far the most elegant. At this time of year nearly all are freshly molted, in well-cut uniforms of silver-gray, with the golden-orange facings of a Ruritanian hussar. Over half have already laid their eggs and are taking turns to incubate or brood small chicks in the tightly-packed colony. Of the rest, many are standing or parading in pairs, sometimes in groups of three or four, clearly in the final throes of courtship. The remaining several thousand, many of them immature birds not yet ready to breed, parade back and forth along the beach. We watch them, and they watch us, critically inspecting our boots, nibbling at our knapsacks and walking sticks, and gathering in interested crowds around the Zodiacs as we leave the beach. They certainly made our day: I wonder if we made theirs?
