Well, there is the usual sort of thing, like learning as much as possible in school about science and math, getting a good understanding about how the universe works, including the process of evolution. Then, it’s good, but not necessarily necessary, that you go to graduate school to rub elbows with people who have done research.

Anyone can be a scientist, really. In fact, ‘science’ is basically just a way of looking at things. In science, when you see some pattern out there in nature, or in a test tube, or through a telescope or a microscope, you formulate a preliminary explanation of what you see (which is called a hypothesis). Then, you try to be clever to find ways to DISPROVE your idea. If your explanation can withstand your testing, then you’re probably onto something.

On the other hand, if you are not a person thinking in a scientific way, then you just have an idea about something that strikes you as cool, and maybe you write a poem about it or paint a picture, or just continue to think it to be cool. Truly, there are ways of seeing things that are valid even if you are not being scientific. I’m not talking here about religion, or about morals, these two not necessarily being the same thing. I’m a scientist but I am also religious: I feel the vast and great forces of Nature all around me, and I’m awed and feel insignificant.

For a scientist, the cool part of it, besides the phenomenon itself, is coming up with an explanation that withstands concrete, observable alternate explanations. Then you see if someone else has had those thoughts (by reading stuff), and if not, you write a scientific paper about it and submit it for publication. This is the sort of thing you’d learn about in graduate school, mostly the process of being a scientist, that is, a person who finds stuff out and is responsible enough to tell other people through a publication.

Thomas Jefferson was a person who was not a ‘scientist’ but he was a great practitioner of ‘science’ and was very knowledgeable about nature, especially botany. He once said, in regard to his charge, Meriwether Lewis (the guy he sent to explore the Missouri and Columbia rivers before other white guys did), that “observation unrecorded is knowledge lost”. That’s so, so very true!!! In the olden days, people ‘recorded’ their observations and knowledge by intricate and constant story telling. Now we write things down, take notes, etc., and write papers and essays.

In any case, enough of this book learning side to being a penguin researcher. Let’s see, what did I do yesterday in this process of learning facts about penguins? Yesterday, and the day before and the day before that, we were engulfed in a major storm, winds up to 60 knots (though higher away from the shelter of where our platform tent is located) and from time to time snow so thick one couldn’t see more than a few yards. Well, Roald Amundsen, polar explorer extraordinaire, once said, “If you’ve had an adventure then you haven’t prepared!”

True, but sometimes there are ’small’ things that don’t go exactly as planned. And you have to deal with them before they become big things. This I was thinking, yesterday, upon hearing a thud and a clank outside, at the same time that our heating stove died. Seems we had a gust of wind from an unanticipated direction, which then took advantage of the fact that the propane in one of our canisters had been used up. Thus the canister was about 150lbs lighter than when I hoisted it in place.

Shoot, why now? Definitely not fair! So, I donned all my polar clothes… looking like the Dough-man… got a wrench, and out I went. I proceeded to wrestle with the two remaining, full canisters, which had blown over, too, upon the other becoming too light (these winds ARE strong). This isn’t so easy to do in a hurricane, wearing gloves and a parka hood that wouldn’t sit straight on my head. Thus I was usually seeing out with just one eye. Try untying and then re-tying knots wearing gloves in those conditions! Ultimately, though, I succeeded, made sure all the ropes on various tents and things were snug, and then back inside I went. Heating stove started right up!

That was the highlight of yesterday. Today, with lessening though still blustery winds I ventured down to the penguins. The penguins could care less, of course, what with this weather. The tent, though, which protected the computer that goes with our automatic weighing scale, was in need of help. Thought I’d gotten it right the first time, when setting it up! But the wind had torn some of the sewed-in loops out. So, it was kind of the same story, tying and un-tying knots in very strong winds, with tent flaps flapping etc etc etc, wind trying to take them one way, and me trying to force them the other. I sure am glad that my Dad and others taught me a lot of neat knots. They don’t teach that stuff in science graduate school! Finally, I got the whole thing staked down again in all its important parts. Then, after an hour or two, I went off to see how the penguins were doing. Taking notes as I went, of course, me being a scientist.

These are the kinds of things one has to do to have a successful season of field research. It’s a lot of camping and ‘surviving’ in order to be collecting data and taking notes, and thinking scientific thoughts. So, if you want to be a penguin researcher, do a lot of camping before hand, just to become comfortable with those little ‘adventures’ that arise day to day. Of course, some penguins live in places where the comforts of civilization aren’t all that far away. But I like camping out there in Nature, with my religion all about.

Part of our field camp.

Above is our lodging for this 2008-09 penguin research season. It’s called a RacTent (the blue and yellow structure). You can see the propane canisters in the back to the right, where the anemometer (wind gauge) is located (that pipe sticking up). To the left are the solar panels. Those have to be rotated now and again to keep them facing the sun, especially when there are lots of clouds and not much reflectance off the snow.

Inside the RacTent.

Above is the inside of the RacTent. In the far right corner is the propane camp stove, underneath which are about 5 boxes for recycling, one box for a different kind of stuff: food waste, cans, mixed paper, and non-recyclable stuff (plastic and cellophane food wrappers, etc). To the right is the propane heating stove. Anything put on the floor is liable to freeze, including your feet. Walking around, though, the upper half of your body is comfortably warm. To the left, you can see my ‘desk’ and laptop. Note the telephone on the card-table. That’s a wireless connection to McMurdo Station. The other morning at 5:30AM, the McMurdo Fire House called saying that someone from this number had called in a 911 code. Must have been some penguins fiddling with the antenna, or some electrons that the wind had overly excited.

The computer tent, with Adélies.

Here’s the tent containing the computer, with the automatic scale to its left. Solar panels that run the computer and scale are to the right of the tent. The wind is very, very clever about un-raveling things, wanting everything to enter a state of chaos. So, one has to keep paying attention to the small things, so they don’t become big and chaotic.

The green, plastic fence surrounding the penguins directs them to go and come by walking across the scale.

The members of the Shackleton Centenary Expedition will be retracing the same route to the South Pole as the Nimrod Expedition in 1907-09. This will be a 900-mile long overland traverse over 80 days on skis and towing sledges, each weighing 150 lbs. The team members include leader Henry Worsley (in search of a link with Frank Worsley, Shackleton’s skipper on the Endurance), Will Gow, and Henry Adams (both great-grandsons of Jameson Boyd Adams).

Expedition members Worsley, Adams, and Gow from left to right. Worsley is holding a compass originally owned by Shackleton that was used on the Nimrod Expedition.

The team arrived at Hut Point, located just outside of McMurdo, mid-morning of day three of their journey. Their trip started at Shackleton’s Hut at Cape Royds on Ross Island. There was no formal presentation or speeches, just a short meet-and-greet to answer questions and to have the opportunity to wish them well on their long journey. Today, after all, will be their last physical human contact until they reach the point at which the original Shackleton expedition was forced to turn around, the Furthest Southerly Point. There, they will be joined by Patrick Bergel (great-grandson of Shackleton) and Tim Fright (great-great-nephew of Frank Wild) where they will continue to the South Pole and complete what the original Shackleton expedition was unable to do.

Worsley’s 150 lb. sledge that he will be towing across the continent.

One piece of information I found interesting was their daily caloric balance. Worsley estimated that they would each lose “about 1.5 stones”, or 21 pounds, along the journey. They will be burning 8000 calories a day, and they plan to take in 6000 calories a day. If you consider that the nutritional labels on all of our food are based on a typical 2000-calorie-a-day diet, that’s a lot of energy!

And now for a short history lesson to help put all of this in perspective. On August 3, 1907 Shackleton set sail for Antarctica aboard the Nimrod in hopes of making it to the then unclaimed South Pole. After spending the winter in huts on Ross Island, a four-man team that included Ernest Shackleton, Frank Wild, Eric Marshall, and Jameson Boyd Adams set off for the South Pole with four Manchurian ponies pulling sledges. By the time they had crossed Beardmore Glacier (a 140-mile long glacier named by Shackleton), they had already lost all four of the ponies and were pulling the sledges themselves. On January 9, 1909, due to exhaustion, food shortage, and weather, Shackleton made the decision to turn back, only 97 miles short of the Pole. Although they had not made it to the Pole, they had traveled further south than any other explorer, and this point came to be known as the Furthest Southerly Point. All four men successfully rejoined the rest of the Nimrod party on March 4, 1909 at Hut Point. Shackleton never reached the South Pole. A Norwegian explorer, Roald Amundsen, was the first to reach the Pole in 1911.

Worsley heading away from Hut Point.

You can follow along with the expedition as they travel to the South Pole at http://shackletoncentenary.org/. We wish them the best of luck on their journey!

Expedition members head south away from Hut Point and head across the Ross Ice Shelf.

-41 deg C

SOUTH POLE STATION, ANTARCTICA– The Norwegian-US Traverse, Year 2, Begins! We still haven’t started on our big trip, (the actual traverse), but we are getting closer and closer! This seems amazing given how far we’ve come already. I started my trip early the morning of October 25, first driving to Boston from my home in Vermont, with my husband, Mike. Our wedding was September 27, so we just missed spending our first month anniversary together.

From Boston, I flew first to Newark, then on to Los Angeles, where I spent a couple of hours waiting for my flight to Auckland, New Zealand. This is where things became a little bizarre. First as I was waiting in line to go through security, a very large limo pulled up to the terminal and a whole entourage started piling out. By this time in my trip (which was just the beginning, really), I was already too hungry and tired and homesick to care, and grabbed some food and went to my gate without waiting to see who it was.

As it so happens, the very famous person, hip hop super star Ice Cube was also flying to Auckland, with his entourage. Ice Cube sat in first class, while about 15 members of his entourage were back in coach where I was sitting. They were very, very entertaining for the first few hours of the 13 hour flight, and then thankfully fell asleep. The funniest thing for me is that when I tell people heading to Antarctica that I saw Ice Cube on the plane, everyone first assumes that it’s IceCube, the neutrino telescope that is being run at the South Pole, not the international hip hop/movie star.

In Christchurch, I had a few busy days gathering up the supplies we will need for the traverse, and meeting up with the rest of the group as we were all coming in from all over. There’s Lou, our driller, who flew in from Montana, Tom, the field team leader, who came from Vermont, Glen, coming from Colorado, and the Norwegians, Rune, Svein, Einar and Kjetil, who were coming from Tromso, Norway. The last member of our group to arrive in Christchurch was John, who had to make a last-minute, unexpected detour to Cape Town, South Africa to take care of some business for the Norwegian Polar Institute there. Compared to John’s trip, mine was nothing to complain about. He didn’t even get to see Ice Cube in person.

Tom Neumann, our fearless leader, in line to check in bags for the flight from Christchurch to McMurdo, which we had to do the day before our flight.

In Christchurch, we all worked finding the various odds and ends we would need to find in New Zealand that we hadn’t already shipped, and that we wouldn’t find in Antarctica, including a 5 m ladder, 400 loaves of bread (Norwegians really, really like bread), potholders, a spatula for pancakes, 20 large batteries, and 80 pounds of coffee (most of us really, really like coffee). This at time proved rather amusing, as it meant either Tom or Glen had to drive on the “wrong” side of the road in our rented van, sometimes with oddly sized loads.

This first group of us is participating in the first phase of our traverse from South Pole Station to the Norwegian Antarctic base, Troll. Phase One is to recover the four tracked vehicles we are using, which are currently located 300 km from the South Pole, where we are now. Svein, Kjetil and Rune are the cracker-jack mechanics who will fix two of the vehicles, which are currently non-operational, and replace the differentials (this being the part that broke several time last season) in all of the vehicles. Lou and I are going to drill an ice core while the mechanics do the repairs. The spot where we will be working is called Camp Winter, since that is where everything spent the last season.

Hand drilling an ice core.

After everything is fixed and we are done with our core, we will pack everything up, and head back here to the South Pole where we will unfortunately lose Kjetil and Rune and Glen. Rune’s wife is expecting a baby soon, so it’s important to get him back home to Norway before that happens. The rest of us will head to Troll with another group of researchers meeting us here in December. Then we will begin Phase Two, which is getting from South Pole to the coast, drilling ice cores, taking radar data, and collecting snow samples along the way.

The area we are passing through has not been visited since the 1960’s, and some spots we are covering have never been traveled over before. Our measurements will help determine whether this part of Antarctica is growing in mass (more snow is falling here due to rising temperatures), staying the same, or shrinking in mass.

I was able to spend a couple of hours roaming around Christchurch my last day before leaving for “The Ice,” and so I hit my favorite spots (I had spent quite a lot of time in Christchurch the last time I was in Antarctica). I went to rub Roald Amundsen’s nose at the Canterbury Museum (there is a bust of him there, and it is tradition to rub his nose for good luck), and then spent some time walking around the botanic gardens. I will try to remember what it is like to be warm, to smell flowers, and to be surrounded by color in the next few months. On these trips, I am always amazed by the sensory deprivation I experience.

Roald Amundsen’s bust at the Canterbury Museum, Christchurch, NZ. His nose is shiny from people rubbing it for good luck.

Plants from the botanic gardens in Christchurch…

Plants from the botanic gardens in Christchurch…

…where we all spent our last day roaming around or laying in the grass, enjoying the sun.

After one delayed flight, we left for McMurdo a day later than expected, where we spent another crazy few days gathering, sorting, and packing all the food we would need for the entire trip (phase one and two). This was usually pretty amusing, trying to compromise between Norwegian and American tastes. We are bringing lots and lots of fish, aforementioned bread, rye crackers, brunost (Norwegian “brown cheese” or whey cheese), sardines, some other Norwegian snacks, and luckily a few packages of hot dogs (my request!). The amount of food is mind boggling, as is the amount of toilet paper (about 300 rolls). We won’t have an opportunity to resupply while we are traveling, so it’s important to get it right.

Lou and Einar going for a quick hike up Observation Hill in McMurdo.

The cargo system in McMurdo can be a bear to deal with, meaning that every box is weighed and measured, sometimes multiple times, and entered into the system before it can head out. In addition, we (mostly me) had to keep track of what was going into each box for our own records. The result is that we are very well organized now though, and have sorted the food so that for every week, there are three boxes that contain all our food. We can just grab the boxes and bring them inside the vehicles, and not spend time outside (where we are expecting temperatures around -50deg C in the beginning). That will be worth it in the end.

At the top of Observation Hill is a cross dedicated to members of Scott’s expedition who died on their return trip from the South Pole.

So far, we are all getting along marvelously. Somehow the nine of us, with our diverse backgrounds, all share a similar sense of humor, and work to take care of one another. The Norwegians have been particularly impressed with my skills in the Norwegian language (I had Norwegian roommates in college), even though most of what I remember is a little less than polite. We have all had a lot of experience in the field, and we all enjoy what we do. Who could ask for anything else?

Kjetil and John hiking up Observation Hill, with Mt. Erebus, and active volcano, in the background.

CHRISTCHURCH, NEW ZEALAND– “If I have seen further it is by standing on ye shoulders of Giants.” -Sir Isaac Newton

There is a long and rich history of Terra Incognita. The place names identifying scientific research bases, mountain tops, nunataks, valleys, glaciers, ice shelves, peninsulas, the surrounding oceans, and all of the conceivable minutia one can find on any map of the most inhospitable continent in the world barely scrape the frozen surface of understanding the breadth, scope, hardships, achievements, and contributions of those who have come before. One must dig a little deeper to appreciate the fullness of what Antarctica once was, how it became a frontier of exploration, what it means to the body of scientific research, and how further study will aid in our understanding– not only of past global climate, but of our future and how we as a human race will need to adapt in this time of prominent climate change.

An icy expanse on Antarctica’s polar plateau.

I have read many of the classic tales of the Golden Age of Exploration. Each one of the first-person narratives, from Shackleton’s South, Amundsen’s Race to the South Pole, Scott’s personal journals, Cherry-Garrard’s The Worst Journey in the World, to the biographical sketches of Reginal Pound’s Scott of the Antarctic, Roland Huntsford’s The Last Place on Earth and Shackleton, and so many others, all convey the severe hardship that these men went through in the name of science and discovery. What comes across is that personal notoriety and accolade was not the motivation. Pushing the envelope of human understanding, furthering the knowledge base of the surrounding world, and broadening the global perspective all drove these men to reach deep within themselves to set out to achieve the unimaginable.

Robert Falcon Scott’s expedition, having reached the South Pole, January 18th, 1912. None in this party would survive the journey back.

Although Finnesko boots [made of reindeer fur] have been replaced with “bunny boots” [manufactured with wool and synthetics], reindeer clothing with ECW (extreme cold weather) gear, pemmican [meat-fat, a high-energy emergency food supply] with a well balanced varied diet, dog sleds and man-hauling for helicopters and snowmobiles — my motivation for journeying to the Antarctic is in parallel with those who have come before me. Climate change is one of the foremost issues facing the global community today. As an Earth scientist, I feel a responsibility to take an active role in furthering our understanding of this complex system. To be able to predict future climate change, I have to know the climate of the distant past, I have to be able to understand how the Earth’s climate changed through time to the conditions we live in today. To do that, I must go to Antarctica!

Ernest Shackleton’s hut, built in 1908 at Cape Royds, Ross Island. Photo taken in 1956.

As I am on the brink of becoming a Polar explorer, I am so excited to have this opportunity. I feel very fortunate to be given this chance to go to the Ice. It is my hope that our ONH Team will locate sediments of the “Greenhouse World,” and that they will later be sampled and studied, not only to understand the global transition to the “Icehouse World” we live in today, but also to better gauge our future global climate.

As Antarctic explorer Apsley Cherry-Garrard said, “Courage, or ambition, or love of notoriety, may take you to the Antarctic, or any other uncomfortable place in the world, but it won’t take you far inside without being found out; it’s courage: and unselfishness: and helping one another: and sound condition; and willingness to put in every ounce you have: and clean living: and good temper: and tact: and good judgement: and faith. And the greatest of these is faith, especially a faith that what you are doing is of use.”

An umiaq, circa 1884. Photo taken during first International Polar Year.

Bowhead whale hunting was, and continues to be, important to the Iñupiaq culture—not just for the food it provides, but for the sense of community and cooperation it creates. The whales can weigh as much as 60 tons, which means they have to be hunted by groups of people working together with a whaling captain. When they kill a whale, the Iñupiaq thank it for giving its life to them, and the whole community shares in its bounty. Much of the equipment traditionally used by their ancestors, including a umiaq, or sealskin canoe, is still used today.

An umiaq near Barrow, 2008.

Contact with Europeans came in 1826, when two British men arrived and renamed the area Barrow (the Iñupiaq named it Ukpiagvik, “the place for hunting snowy owls”). By 1854, the first commercial whaling ships arrived at Barrow and trade began between the Iñupiat and European whalers. From 1852 to 1854 the British overwintered twice looking for a lost expedition. Shortly afterwards, the first commercial whaling ships arrived at Barrow and trade began between the Iñupiaq and whalers from the East Coast of the United States.

In addition to skins and whale, seal, and caribou meat, the Iñupiaq traded ivory and crafts.

Trade and contact with the outside world changed the Iñupiaq way of life. They acquired new technology, including guns, which they incorporated into their traditional hunting methods. Missionaries arrived in the late 1800s, introducing western religion. Contact also exposed the Iñupiaq people to new diseases. As a result, the population declined until western medicine was introduced in the 1920s.

In the last fifty to one hundred years, the people of Barrow have seen rapid change. The North Slope is home to the largest oil reserve in the Arctic. The oil and gas industry has brought many new jobs to the area. Barrow is also part of the North Slope Borough, a large incorporated area established in 1972, which has also added government and private jobs as well as modern conveniences. Now, light is supplied by electricity instead of seal oil, for example, and dogsleds have been replaced by snowmobiles.

Snowmobiles have replaced dogsleds in the Arctic; here, they even replace the dogs.

Today, 60 percent of the people in Barrow are Iñupiaq; 98 percent of the people in the other seven North Slope villages are also Iñupiaq. While much has changed, many traditions remain. The Iñupiaq continue to do subsistence whaling and other hunting, for cultural as well as practical reasons (food is very expensive there and hunted food is much healthier than store-bought). Many Iñupiats work part time to accommodate their subsistence way of life, and some jobs are structured so they can take “subsistence leave.” With climate change looming, however, the Iñupiaq people are now in danger of losing their major food sources as well as some of their traditional ways of life.

Iñupiaq Barrow resident Ida prepares whale meat with a traditional Iñupiaq knife.

After our long wait at Siple Dome, I was giddy with excitement by the time we were in the air. During the 40 minute flight south (about 300 km to our field site from Siple Dome), we passed over several crevasse zones and the shear margin, which were noticeable even to an amateur crevasse-spotter like me. From above, the sastrugi (small snow dunes) gave the snow surface a beautiful texture, and to my delight, the majestic peaks of the Transantarctic Mountains were visible to the south about 100 km away.

After a hurried unloading, the plane took off to return to Siple Dome for more cargo, whipping up a flurry of stinging snow as it departed. A quick look around us and our small heap of survival gear served as a stark reminder that we were truly all alone in this endless plane of white – not another living soul for 300 km, and the nearest aid over 1000 km away. The feeling was slightly sobering, but not actually frightening. The plane returned two more times with the remaining cargo, and the sight and sound of it approaching drove home the fact that we would likely not see another plane for another three weeks. Four weeks after we left Santa Cruz, we’ve finally arrived at our field site.

The 48 hours since our arrival have been filled primarily with camp setup and eating, and a little preparation of science equipment. We each have our own mountain tent for sleeping (a normal 4-season tent), and we share a 16-foot Endurance tent for cooking and working. With kitchen supplies, tables, chairs and electronics, the four of us fill the Endurance tent nearly to capacity.

Here you can see the Endurance tent (blue, yellow, and red) as well as the individual sleeping tents (smaller red ones.) You can also see the sleds we use to pull cargo behind the skidoos. The flags you see are markers for everything from holes in the ice to places where we’ve buried our frozen food.

At nearly every meal, I find myself peering around our small, slightly cramped circle in the tent with marvel – this is the closest I’ve been to survival conditions. At mealtimes, we all come into the tent tiredly with grumbling stomachs, relax and take off an outer layer if we’re warm, but even after shedding some layers inside the warm interior, I’m still wearing three layers and a hat. What’s particularly eye-opening is that we are living in some of the best conditions on the continent – today’s temperatures were a balmy -7 to -9 degrees Celsius! When I think back to the early Antarctic explorers like Amundsen, Scott, Shackleton and Mawson a century ago, I’m even more amazed at their survival stories and feats of work and travel.

I guess I might as well show you, the reader, what the view is from the other direction. This picture wasn’t taken from the RacTent, which is hiding behind a hill and snowdrift to offer us a bit of protection from the southerly blasts. To see to the east takes a bit of a walk, and one might as well walk a bit farther for the view below: Mt. Erebus, a quietly active volcano (it has a bubbly lava lake), is about 13,000 feet high. The Cape is actually a series of lava floes that project out into the sea. The penguins here are nesting on an outcrop of columnar basalt that was worn down by the West Antarctic Ice Sheet during the last glacial maximum (25,000 to 12,000 years ago).The structure in the middle ground is much more recent: Shackleton’s hut from his 1909-11 expedition.

Two days ago we saw the first whales of the season. Jean was standing on the ice at Black Sand Beach, and a group of Emperor penguins popped out of the water right by her. A few seconds later she saw some killer whales not too far off. A bit later, in the same vicinity, the penguins were still standing by the ice edge and the killer whales were hanging out a few hundred meters out. Judging from their size, I’d say they were the “Type-B” killer whales, the ones that prey mostly on warm-blooded creatures like seals. [Editor’s note: In Antarctica, there are three varieties, or subspecies, of killer whales, also known as orcas. The three types, “A,” “B,” and “C,” are distinguished by their size, markings, and diet. Type-A orcas roam ice-free waters and prey on minke whales primarily. Type B hunt seals and penguins and can be found roaming under and around pack ice. Type C, also pack-ice hunters, are fish eaters.] In this group were nine whales: a male, five females and two calves. “Type B” whales are bigger than the more common (in these parts) “Type-C’” killer whales, which eat mostly fish.

We also saw, later, three minke whales that were breaching not too far off our coastline. This is a bit earlier than we’ve seen them in other years by about a week. I’m glad the minke whales are here and not out where the Japanese whalers can get them. I heard that even the U.S. has asked the Japan whalers to cease their ‘scientific’ take this year. The Japanese are not just taking minke whales, but humpbacks as well. I heard that the Japanese were asking the New Zealanders and Australians not to allow the Sea Shepherd Society vessel to come into port in their countries [Editor’s note: Sea Shepherd is an environmental organization that frequently protests and interferes with whaling vessels at sea. Last year, the International Whaling Commission granted permission for Japanese whalers to take humpback whales in the Ross Sea.]

Last season, bless their hearts, the Sea Shepherds harassed the whalers well. I wonder what the Japanese are threatening: not to buy the lamb and lumber of NZ or to raise the price on Toyotas? I’m amazed at the U.S. statement, or lack thereof. While the U.S. scientists have been arguing against the Japanese whaling for some time, the higher government has been silent, perhaps not wanting to disrupt the ‘coalition’ of Iraqi forces.

In any case, when the minke whales arrive in larger numbers, and the type-C killer whales, too, we can expect the penguins to have more difficulty finding food. These whales go after the same food as the penguins, and take much more of it in one gulp! When the whales are around, the penguin foraging trips are longer, and the penguins have to dive deeper. The penguins switch from eating mostly krill to eating fish at that time as well. It’s a very interesting interaction that surprised us when we discovered it. Without the weighbridge, we would not have detected the changes in foraging trip duration. If this were not part of the Ross Sea, either, we would not have detected this, as the Ross Sea is the last ocean on earth where all the parts are still in full (well almost full) force and all processes are functioning as they have for millennia. Elsewhere the whales and fish have been wiped clear. But more on that later…..