Stopping at Punta Arenas, the boys took off for a very chilly kayak journey--funny; only five brave souls from our boat made that choice--and we ladies went off for Otway Sound to see the thousands of Magellanic penguins that come to one particular beach every year from september to march. The penguin colony is carefully protected and any prospective penguin peepers have to tread lightly and quietly as not to disturb their twice daily pilgrimage to the beach. There is a little boardwalk and quite a long walk along the windswept scrubby plain to reach the water's edge and the area where they nest and reproduce. Suddenly out of nowhere pops a little funny, waddling penguin who stops short and stares at us. I tell Jeri to stop looking at him because she's offending him with her brute sexuality and we both double over laughing. He looks at us as if to say "Et Tu, Brute??" or more likely, "Come on ladies, give me a break." and he turns around and wobbles off to the beach. We begin to encounter more and more, mostly in couples making a sound that can only be described as sad mooing. Technically, we are told, it's called braying, and they are calling out to their mates. You begin to hear it all around you and the scene takes on the desperate feel of a disco after midnight. As we walk farther along, suddenly the little guys are all around us, walking in couples and in rows of 6 or 7 or so all in unison and very purpose bound. There are couples standing facing each other in either a serious staredown or rubbing their beaks in such a way as to make you divert your gaze. The funny thing is that they all look exactly the same. Exactly. Black, white, sleek with one stripe at their neck and one that delineates their ample little chest. We watch them for awhile tottering back forth in regimented lines to the beach. Every now and again, two will stop and regard each other directly:
Penguin 1: "Well, hello, Frances. How's the day? How's that leg holding up??"
Penguin 2: "Say, Hi, Martha! Good thanks. Hard to get past a sea wolf attack. Long time no see. Been down at the beach with Bob Jr. Have a good day, eh?"
Penguin 1: "Congrats on Bob Jr. still being around, what with that 40% offspring mortality rate. I didn't know you were Canadian."
And then they just leave each other and go on their driven paths to dug out burrow or sea. Down at the beach there is a virtual singles bar of hot penguin action and it is endearing. There are 'kids' around as well, all fluffy, gray and molting, but it doesn't appear to throw a wrench in the works:
Penguin A: "Hellooo Sailor. You are lookin' fine. How's about grabbing a little crustacean cocktail with me down at the shore? The sun is up and the wind is strong and that formula adds up to ...."
Penguin B: "Oh cut it out Nadine. It's me, Arthur."
Penguin A: "The offer still stands."
And on and on it goes. It's mating season and these guys are busy. They'll leave in a few months to go up north--on vacation, I guess.
Oh my gosh!!! I have to cut it short! They just announced a new addition to the days 'program'--shiver my timbers, its a lecture entitled "Cape Horn, the Myth and the Reality" by a local guide. No doubt, "The Myth and the Mayhem" as soon as we arrive.
In the words of the stellar Arnold Schwarzenegger, "I'll be back".
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