Penguin Parade

Not too far from Melbourne is a beach that belongs to the penguins and where all year round, every evening just as it gets dark, they come ashore, waddle across the beach and into the grassy dunes to find their burrows. It is the pristine Summerland Beach, on the tip of Phillip Island, in the Bass Straight, in the Southern Ocean. You drive out of town in the afternoon, past the suburbs and small towns and by the time you get out into countryside, the dark green pastures of sheep and cattle are striped in rich late-afternoon light and elongated shadows. It looks a little like Ireland with the expanse of rolling green fields and water all around. At Summerland Beach, the national park has tried to accommodate hundreds of thousands of tourists annually while still protecting the penguins. Development is minimal, although there is small pavillion that provides snacks, educational material and a gift shop filled with all sizes of stuffed penguins. Once outside, no cameras or cell phones are allowed (the image above comes from the internet). Long wooden paths take you over the dunes to a low set of cement bleachers built right into the sand. We had a picnic and looked though binoculars at a kangaroo on the hillside while we waited for it to get dark. When dusk finally settled into dark and the pengins could be reasonably sure that the birds of prey were in their nests, they started emerging out of the surf up and down the beach, usually in groups of 6 or 8. They splashed around a bit, made sure the coast was clear, and then waddled across the sand toward the dunes, often joining other groups that were making their way across the beach. This nightly ritual is called the Penguin Parade, which makes you think they might hop out of the ocean with top hats and canes, but the event is magical in its simplicity. The park turns on high, soft lights so you can see, everyone is quiet, and the penguins do their thing. When penguins are out at sea fishing, they are very solitary, but once ashore, they become gregarious, social and loud. As we headed back along the walkways, we could see them continuing their journey over the dunes. Here they meet up with their mates, hang out, play, preen, breed in the spring and sleep. We saw a couple huddled in their burrow, a whole group making their way deeper into the dunes, and penguins courting, chasing and looking for each other. More than anything, we heard them. The dunes were raucous with a dazzling variety of sounds, all of them belonging to the penguins: caws, hee-haws, screeches, rattling song, whistles and lilting calls.

The Australian Little Penguin is the smallest penguin you can find. They are about 16 inches high and weigh 2 to 3 pounds. They are native to Southern and Western Australia, Tasmania and New Zealand and they come ashore mainly on islands to avoid predatory animals, such as foxes and dogs. Phillip Island is the largest colony of Little Penguins, with about 20,000 birds. They form long-term monogomous pairs, with most penguins having one mate for life, although one of the rangers told us they have an 18-30% "divorce rate" which tends to result from either death of the partner or infidelity. They breed between August and October, with each pair producing two eggs. Although both eggs usually hatch, generally only one of the chicks lives to maturity as the parents cannot provide enough food for both. They feed the larger, stronger chick until it is satisfied and give the food that is left to the smaller chick. The parents share equally in incubating and raising the chicks, trading off daily between foraging for food and protecting the nest. When the chicks are 3 weeks old they are mature enough to stay alone, and both parents will go out to forage during the day. The chicks wait at the edge of the burrow at dusk squawking for their meal of regurgitated food. Once the young are independent, they do not stay with their parents but go off to join other colonies.

As we walked back to the car, Jake reflected on how much our family resembles penguins. He noticed that Matt & I take turns watching our young, like penguin parents, and that Lucy waddles like the penguins when she walks. Jake didn't mention this, but we also have had the pleasure of a visit from Matt's parents this last week, which allows us feel some of the safety and fun of a colony. I kept wondering how they find their mates and their burrows, although I suposse they do it the same way we do. Indeed, from a penguin's point of view, we must seem indistinguishable as well, and our burrow complexes bewilderingly vast.

Tomorrow we all head up to Queensland in northeast Australia to explore the rainforst and the Great Barrier Reef. I doubt we'll have internet access, so we'll be incommunicado until late next week.