African Penguins
05/30/10
A single file line of reluctant bodies descended into the packed, public transit van as if into a cave. The driver´s assistant was a people wrangler, coaxing locals in by yelling, reaching over to honk the horn and advertised by whistling between his fingers. He continued packing the van at each intersection. For a moment, I felt the loss of movement and control. The beginnings of claustrophobia. I overcame these thoughts quickly. Packed transport was common on our around the world trip. A long ten minutes later, we left the vehicle and threaded across intersections through a mass of slow moving traffic.
A few blocks later, Capetown´s tourist capital known as Long Street was empty on this Sunday afternoon. We moved in a silent pack - Boxie-boo, the German brothers and the Ribatron-don - towards our car rental office. I felt the chill of South Africa´s winter, similar to a Canadian fall, walking past buildings bright with colours. The distant high-rises towering above the city were dark, their windows steeming with sunlight.
Similar to Johannesburg, it was cheaper to rent a car for long drives than to take taxis. The four of us jumped in a Mr. Bean-sized Kia and head for Simon´s Town - home to African penguins.
Pulling into the parking lot an hour-drive later, Boxie-boo´s eyes probed mine through the rearview mirror. The car shook and without looking I knew it was caused by her excitement. The sky outside was blue, flat and cloudless. We walked under the midday sun, the Germans laughing as they watched Boxie-boo skip exaggeratedly while holding my hand. The older brother Lutz smiled at his brother Fabian, before looking back at me with eyes wide and tight lips, he nodded as if saying he could see why I loved her. As we neared our first penguin, Boxie-boo´s lips parted, as though to smile at the coming of night.
The penguins knew we were coming so they waddled out of their burrows to greet us. They were dressed to impress, wearing their natural tuxedos standing military attentive.
They weren´t always this way.
Over 60 million years, these flightless birds have adapted to water. Their wings transformed into flippers. Penguins propel themselves with flying movements with their flippers, while their legs are used as rudders for steering at upwards of 20 km/h underwater, always hunting in groups. Their eyes can focus in and out of water and are adapted to low light, which makes them active both day and night. Avid underwater fishermen, they are set with strong beaks to seize and gouge, while their tongues are covered by fleshy spines to assist holding slippery fish.
To my surprise, the penguins sounded more like donkeys than birds. This loud braying has earned them the nickname “Jackass Penguins,” the same nickname given to those who do not read Page59.com. Boxie-boo attempted to imitate them, sounding more like a pig with a pulled tail. It was beautiful.
Similar to some humans, I learned that African penguins mostly have one mate for their life. Like drunk guys trying to impress the ladies, penguins have stylish courtship displays involving dips, bows, stares and calls. But no moonwalks. A male will also only be successful at mounting a female if she is willing to accept him. To be mounted or not is a decision that has nothing to do with deodorant usage, shoes or Cornflakes cereal.
Salt glands adjacent to the skull enable penguins to avoid the build up of excess salts obtained through feeding on fish and drinking salt water. Salt is expelled through the nostrils and they get ride of concentrated salt by flicking their beaks.
Boxie-boo lead the way out front, pointing at baby penguins, which were in high numbers as they mainly breed between March and May. Adults make sweet love on land and prepare the nest by scraping out a shallow burrow in the shade, beneath bushes or boulders, lined with plant material. Most babies were with one parent as their mom and dad take turns between protecting them while the other heads out to collect fish. Each ´shift´ lasts two-and-a-half days. If the babies reach adulthood, they live an average of 12 years. The problem is - usually two eggs hatch and the slightly larger penguin, which hatched earlier, bullies the other when they are brought food. Often the second born, and therefore smaller, dies of starvation 90 per cent of the time.
Walking on the wooden platforms, we headed towards the beach to discover the penguins lined in a large pack. Boxie-boo could not control her laughter.
“Look at them waddle back and forth,” she giggled, holding her hands together by the railing, her feet excitedly tap dancing. “I want to steal one.”
That´s all for now.
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