Spending a week in New Zealand was great. Christchurch really has a good variety of restaurants to choose from and it was nice to be able to take a shower every day instead of our 2 per week. You also tend to forget how nice humidity is! The South Pole is so cold and dry that it wreaks havoc on the sinuses and skin. Aside from enjoying some showers and food, I was able to meet up with a friend from high school and college in Queenstown. Queenstown is probably one of the most beautiful towns I’ve seen. It’s set right next to The Remarkables mountain range which provides a gorgeous backdrop. I was even able to get a round of golf in at the spectacular Jack’s Point golf course! The R&R definitely did its job and I came back to the Pole feeling refreshed and ready to endure the winter.

When I got back to the Pole, I’m sure my partner at ARO (Atmospheric Research Observatory) was happy. He did not arrive early enough in the summer to take advantage of R&R so he was left to take care of things on his own while I was soaking it up in New Zealand. He must have been busy while I was gone because things looked great when I got back!

A view of Akaroa Harbor.

A paraglider suspended over Queenstown.

A beautiful round of golf in Queenstown!

Another great view from the golf course.

About a week after I returned from R&R I was getting ready to head out to ARO when I sat down and my teeth kind of bumped together. It ended up knocking off a piece of tooth that was repaired last spring. Luckily I was able to grab a quick flight to McMurdo and see the dentist only days before she was leaving the ice! It really would have been annoying having to deal with a broken front tooth for 8 months through the winter. She did a great job on repairing it though and actually looks better than the previous repair job.

It turns out that this broken tooth was a blessing in disguise. On my flight back to McMurdo, I was able to capture some spectacular video of the Transantarctic Mountains. We also went over the Dry Valleys, out over the open water, and then ended with a great fly-by of McMurdo. Well worth the dental work!

A view out of the LC-130 window as we enter the Trans-Antarctic Mountains.

A glacier spilling down through a valley.

Another glacier carving it’s way.

Beautiful blue sky over some peaks and valleys.

The Dry Valleys.

Some broken off sea ice in the Ross Sea.

Mt Erebus.

McMurdo Station Fly-by.

Now as we approach mid-February, people are leaving by the bundles. A little less than 2 weeks ago we had about 250 people on station. Now we are down to about 125. There are 2 more major passenger flights out of here in which we will lose about 80 more people leaving us with about 48 people for the winter. It’s strange having all the open space in the galley during meal times. And it’s only going increase the next several days. Tomorrow is the last day for any outgoing mail, and Monday, February 15th, we have our last flights! The sun is very noticeably lower in the sky and temperatures the past week have been much colder. Today is the coldest day since I arrived here last October at -40F. Hard to believe it’s just about here but it is. Winter!

The three types of killer whales. From R. Pitman, P. Ensor, J. Cetacean Res Manage 5(2):2003.

Ross Sea killer whales appear in the McMurdo Sound area and the southern Ross Sea, in early December and ply various fast ice edges (ice attached to the land), which as the season progresses recede further and further south toward the continent. They also apparently forage under or along the edge of the Ross Ice Shelf by Cape Crozier on the other side of Ross Island. These whales feed on fish that live under the fast ice and as the ice recedes the whales are able to exploit more and more feeding territory. Sightings of these whales, from land, helicopters and ships have been carried out through the years, most recently from the Cape Crozier and Cape Royds penguin colonies on Ross Island, where it has been noticed that the presence of whales (including minke whales) follows a shift in the diet of the penguins.

Killer whales foraging in a sea ice crack.

In 2005 the ratio of C to B killer whales was 50-1, but over the next few years it steadily dropped to 16-1 by 2008. As the observed numbers of B whales (seal eaters) did not change during this time, the altered ratio was due to the decrease in Ross Sea killer whales. During the years of these observations another important series of events was taking place.

Although commercial fishing of the Antarctic toothfish (sold as “Chilean sea bass”) in the Ross Sea began in 1996, it was expanded in 2004 from 9 to 22 fishing vessels; not surprisingly that same year the catch reached its allowed limit of 3500 tones. These boats target the largest adult toothfish, which is the same size those taken by the whales. Toothfish are a slow growing species which do not reach maturity until 16 years old. Many of these fish taken in the fishery were over 25 years old, some older.

Antarctic toothfish.

Since 2004, the commercial catch has remained steady year by year. Catch and release efforts of toothfish by scientists in McMurdo Sound remained steady from the years 1974 to 2000, but dropped 50% in 2001 a few years after the commercial fishing began and then to 4% in 2007, only 3 years after the peak commercial catches began. It would appear that the drop in Ross Sea killer whale numbers is related to the increase in the commercial fishing of the toothfish.

Are there any other animals that would be affected by the reduction in toothfish numbers?

Weddell seals also take toothfish as a primary food source and their numbers have not decreased in McMurdo Sound, though trends elsewhere along Victoria Land are unknown. Seals are able to dive deeper and stay under longer than the whales and therefore able to catch the fish which are safe from the whales. Seals therefore not only forage where the whales forage, but also in areas the whales can not reach, places covered with extensive fast ice where small cracks provide breathing holes. Seals also eat silverfish. It is thought that whales also eat silverfish but there are no confirmed sightings for this. The whales therefore may be more sensitive to changes in toothfish availability. If the toothfish industry continues to extract the current yearly numbers, it is predicted these creatures will decline more rapidly.

For more information about the Ross Sea, the toothfish industry and how it is affecting penguins, whales and seals go to The Last Ocean.

For some time it was thought that Weddell seals did not eat the toothfish and therefore would not be affected by the reduction of these fish in the ocean. The fishing industry has pushed to increase catch limits based on this assumption. We’re learning, though, that this is not true by indirect means.

One way researchers determine what an animal eats is by sorting through their scats (body waste). Indigestible parts pass through the body of seals and whales and can be identified. In the case of fish, the ear bones, or otoliths, are used to determine not only what species of fish are eaten, but how old and large they are. Toothfish otoliths have not been found in seal waste. But recently we’ve learned why.

Antarctic Toothfish ear bone (otolith).

As is the case with many discoveries chance plays a large part. While out on a diving expedition one researcher discovered the heads of many toothfish near a crack in the ice. The only predators in the area are seals, so these heads must be the remains of their meal. No wonder there are no otoliths in the seal waste, they don’t eat the heads! By observing seals in holes drilled through the ice for scuba access, it has been observed that seals remove the heads so this information was already known. But many people still doubt the implications of this or contend that it is a ‘local’ phenomenon. Finding these heads, in the company of seal holes, was another clear indication that this belief is wrong. Retrieving these heads would also mean that scientists could remove the ear bones (otoliths) and determine the age of the fish as well as where the fish grew up (one of the many mysteries about toothfish that remains unsolved).

The crack, where seals come to find toothfish hiding under the ice.

The helicopter landed us in this remote place on the McMurdo ice shelf.

So off we go. First a helicopter ride to the place where the fish heads were first found, and then a 10 km walk over and around the rough terrain along the crack in search of other evidence. All in all the remains of 30 fish were found, and 20 heads were brought back to the lab to extract the otoliths.

Antarctic toothfish heads, the remains of a Weddell seal feast.

Searching for Antarctic Toothfish heads on the McMurdo Ice Shelf crack.

Bagging Antarctic Toothfish heads.

As it turned out, most of the heads had become mummified, i.e. freeze-dried, and acidic action in the flesh during the process of decomposition in many cases dissolved the otoliths. There were just little ‘puffs’ of white stuff where the otoliths should have been. Skuas had eaten the otoliths in other of the heads. But, we did find otoliths in 6 heads, and these will be tested and analyzed in a lab in the US. Providing evidence to fishery biologists that toothfish are an important food source for seals will help the argument to limit the commercial catch.

Learn more about Antarctica toothfish and conserving the Ross Sea for all marine organisms by visiting The Last Ocean.

A few of our several iceberg choices in Bay of Sails.

Icebergs are moved by wind and currents, and when they come in contact with the seafloor, plough across it leaving a swath of destruction. Cape Evans, on the eastern side of McMurdo Sound, is bathed by plankton-rich water from the open Ross Sea, providing a good food resource to benthic communities during the summer months. But at Bay of Sails, on the western side of the sound, the water has spent a long time circulating in darkness under the thick ice of the permanent Ross Ice Shelf, so it is very oligotrophic, or food-poor. I am interested in the differences between how these two communities recover from iceberg disturbances.

Though the benthic communities locally are not eating well, we are!

To start this effort, we did a reconnaissance helicopter flight. Scottie, our pilot for the day, flew us in beautiful loops and spirals over the dozen icebergs scattered in the bay. We were looking for a berg that was grounded on the seafloor, was in about 50 m water depth, and was close enough to other icebergs that we had alternate target options. Since the bathymetry in this area is poorly known, I had to guess at depths based on distance from shore and iceberg height. I selected a moderate-size, tabular-looking berg about 2 km from shore. It was a good choice, but a better one was about a km further offshore, as we discovered from our initial survey with an extremely high tech weight on a tape measure.

Marco and Henry think a better iceberg is that way.

However, the helo landing site is that way.

Okay, I guess we’ll go home for now.

Parallel with selecting the camp location, we have been packing up camp gear. 335 pounds of food, 330 pounds of water, sleeping bags good to minus 40, tents, fuel for the stove and heaters, sleds, safety supplies, another 1485 pounds of stuff. And then there is the science equipment – drills, electronic gear, the ROV itself, power supplies, batteries and generators, all in all 760 pounds of toys. Then there is the 1000 pounds of people. Not to say we are fat, but several of us are up to three desserts per night. Yow!

How much stuff will fit in one helicopter? 1200 lbs in an A-Star, and 2000 lbs in a Bell212.

All of this is sorted into classifications of Can Freeze, Do Not Freeze, and Keep Frozen (some of the food). Bags and boxes are weighed and tagged. Hazardous material is certified as safe to fly. Much of the Can Freeze camp gear has gone already in an overland (well, over-sea-ice) traverse to a fueling depot about 10 km from Bay of Sails. The helicopters will carry it the rest of the way to us.

Like an n-dimensional puzzle, it all unfolds to a full field camp, dwarfed by the landscape.

My bedroom.

It’s a little nerve-wracking, making sure we remember everything, and enough of it. I have lists, and lists of lists, and I wake up in the middle of the night to make more lists. Remembering to bring all the things we needed to Antarctica was bad enough, but the field camp list must be pared to a minimum yet not leave out anything. We will get a resupply flight after a week, to bring us more water, so we do have that opportunity to fix any bads, but it would be very unproductive, not to say embarrassing, to have forgotten the batteries to the joystick to drive the ROV.

Team SCINI at field camp I: Kamille, Dustin, Isabelle, Francois, Stacy and Bob. Doh, Dustin has forgotten his black Antarctic uniform pants!

Tonight as the sun dips to touch the horizon I think that we have all we need to survive. But I am worried about the engineers getting their stuff packed; they are still out doing tests at 10 pm, 12 hours from when it must be on the helo pad. I am beginning to think that procrastination and engineering must go hand in hand. I think a walk up Ob Hill is in order to reduce my stress!

The view of Erebus and Terror from the top of Ob Hill, colored by a midnight sun.

Of what I speak is a seabird colony existing where the marine ecosystem has not been subject to wide-scale pollution from agricultural and civic runoff, fish depletion, introductions of alien species, harmful plankton blooms (“red tides”) and lots of other things that currently ravage most marine ecosystems of the “civilized” world. I speak of the Ross Sea, the last ocean on Earth where seabirds are capable of being too successful in their breeding. Hmmmm, yes, you heard me right. That is a statement that should give you pause for contemplation, and refers to a concept foreign to most marine ecologists. And what could I possibly mean by this? How can a colony of seabirds ever be too successful?

If you’ve been following my previous dispatches to Ice Stories for this recent Antarctic summer, one was called “Royds Tranquility” and another was “Beaufort Chaos”. In those I reported on the contrast between the Royds penguin colony (one “city” in this story, 2000 penguin pairs) and the more populous colony at Beaufort Island, the other city (60,000 pairs). The Royds colony was very quiet but at the time miserably failing owing to the 70 km walks that most parents were making to find the ocean and food…and 70 km back. The extent of fast ice was very unusual owing to very calm winds last winter and spring. Other than birds attempting to remain resolute on their nests, no others were present. Deserted eggs were everywhere, as more and more adult penguins giving up and going off to feed, their mates choosing not to return.

At Beaufort Island, where the ocean was at the penguins’ doorstep, just a short skip away, penguins were coming and going in multitudes, and because many nested in suboptimal habitat– being forced to do so because the good spaces had all been taken– some were losing their eggs too. But there were huge numbers of eggs still under other parents, being warmly incubated. In addition, due to a short journey from wintering areas just before nesting, all colonies, Royds included, began the season with their respective breeding populations at maximum, i.e. above normal. “Everybody”, it seems, attempted to nest! [If you’ve not read the earlier dispatches, perhaps do so before proceeding further in this one.]

About 40 km to the east of Beaufort, the colony at Cape Crozier was in a similar state to Beaufort: maximum proportion of a large colony, twice the size of even Beaufort (150,000 pairs), attempting to breed. Well, we could not follow up at Beaufort (couldn’t get there at the end of the season) but did have the opportunity in regard to Crozier. I think the stories for both Beaufort and Crozier were pretty much the same, although, being smaller, likely Beaufort didn’t have quite the problem experienced at Crozier.

At all our penguin colonies, there are the “super breeders” who almost always produce young– despite conditions– and then there are the “other” penguins. Mainly the super breeders have learned, through experience, about the vagaries of factors that penguins need to know about. This involves just 25% of the population, or thereabouts; the remainder of penguins almost always fail unless conditions are really easy. This season, the super breeders came front and center at Royds. Not only did they successfully hatch their eggs (unlike the klutzes) but also raised the maximum of two chicks. Therefore, even though 75% of nests failed, the total average chick production of the colony was 0.6 chicks per nest, which isn’t all that bad, given that in good years, an average 0.9 chicks are produced among all nests in which eggs are laid.

What these super breeders had figured out was that they could feed through narrow cracks in the ice and not walk all the way to the open ocean. Then, the ice opened into a polynya [patch of open water in the ice] off Royds, as I described in the “Minke Friends” dispatch. From then on, foraging was easy and the Royds chicks ballooned to become heavier than even last season, averaging around 3800 grams by the time they were 6-7 weeks old and within a week or so of fledging. That’s BIG for an Adélie penguin chick! As is the usual, the Royds chicks didn’t form crèches [groups of penguin chicks] because almost all the time, at least one parent was present to protect them.

Below are two images of Royds, taken on 17 January 2009, showing all the adults present. The reason that there are an equal number or more chicks than adults is because most chicks had a sibling…so two chicks for every successful nest.

Chicks and adults at Royds.

Penguin adults and chicks at Cape Royds, Antarctica.

So now, what about the other penguin city, the one at Crozier (standing in for Beaufort in this tale)? At Crozier, not only did a maximum number of birds attempt to breed, but almost all successfully hatched their eggs. This was because initially finding food was easy, as long as a parent only had its own mouth to feed. Not long after peak hatching, though, the parents began to make longer and longer foraging trips as they depleted food nearby. Of course these seabirds had help from whales and fish in this consumption, unlike the case for any other place in the World Ocean.

Chicks at first did ok, but once they reached the age of maximum growth rate, around 3 weeks of age, troubles began for Crozier. Eventually, parents’ trips reached three days long and less food was returned as some was digested on the trip back (these penguins hold the food in their stomachs, and then regurgitate it to their chicks — see previous dispatch — and once that cold wad begins to heat up in the parents’ stomach, it begins to digest, a common occurrence when the trip back to the colony is more than a day long). Well, basically the chicks at Crozier, though reaching appropriate size (height) for their age, became way under weight. At week 7 they were more than 1 kilogram (1000 g) lighter than Royds birds, and their feather development was halted. In fact, average weight was lower than we’d ever measured it at Crozier. Many chicks began to die of starvation. There were just way too many of them to be fed with the result that almost all were under-fed. In fact, breeding “success” at Crozier was 1.0 chicks crèched per original nest (it’s usually no better than 0.9). Wow! That’s a lot of chicks when you consider there were 150,000 nests to begin with.

Looking to the immediate future, it would seem that the chances for eventual survival of the Crozier chicks is close to zero, quite in contrast to the fat, vigorous but many fewer chicks at Royds. The Royds chicks should have a great chance for survival.

Below are images from Cape Crozier taken on 20 January. The contrast with Royds is dramatic, as almost no adults are present, even though the chicks are just a few days older than those shown in the images above from Royds. Sad.

Cape Crozier chicks with few adults in sight.

Cape Crozier chicks with few adults in sight.

Here you can see lots of chick carcasses. These chicks, unfortunately, have died of starvation. Also sad.

Crozier chicks and carcasses.

So, this is all pretty amazing, but we had to go through the entire season to see how things played out, and flip-flopped Royds vs Crozier. In the last several seasons (2001-2005), we witnessed somewhat similar events at Crozier, but chalked it up to effects of the big icebergs that were present then. The icebergs occupied a large portion of the Crozier colony’s foraging area.

Those icebergs have been gone now for two seasons. So, we have to consider other ideas to explain what is going on now. Perhaps, it seems, Cape Crozier has grown too large!! This rarely could happen to a seabird colony elsewhere in the world. Mostly this is so, because the population is kept low by pollution, toxic die-offs, invasions of feral animals or other type events; or breeding success is low owing to difficulty in finding food early in the season (over-fishing). In some warmer-water colonies of seabirds, where the environment allows the population to be present year round, a portion of large populations may just hang out in waters nearby and not participate in breeding. That doesn’t seem to be an option for migratory seabirds nor for seabirds that live in extreme environments, in both cases like is the case for Adélie penguins.

Well, ok, it was a very “educational” season for us, as are many. To complete our education, though, we have to be present in 4-5 seasons hence to tally the winners and losers among the penguin cities. That’s because young Adélie penguins spend their first years at sea and don’t visit the colonies.

For this season we are done, and here is what our camp at Cape Royds now will look like through the winter darkness. (See dispatch, “So, You Want to Be a Penguin Researcher?” for a view of the camp all set up.) In a couple of months you’ll need a flashlight to see this, our camp in a small box….well, a slightly large one.

Our camp.

One result was that the coordination and synchrony of birds with their former maters was thrown out of whack, one bird often arriving much later than the other. It’s not that this sort of condition is new to Adélie penguins, as they are pack ice creatures by choice. In a way, they are ‘used’ to it, sort of (the vagaries of pack ice that is).

When a male penguin arrives and his former mate is late (or doesn’t arrive at all), usually he has some difficulty in finding a new partner. In many cases, he goes the entire spring and summer trying to attract a new one and establish a pair bond. In the case of females, she’ll begin to look for an unattached male after waiting a few days, mateless. The mortality of females is higher, and so there is a surplus of males; easier pickings for females. In the vast majority of pairs, unless they are lost, the laying of eggs and tending of chicks occurs without fanfare: the members of the pair alternate duties equally to raise their chicks.

This is how a pair begins. Lots of bowing to assure the prospective partner that all is good!

Well, as a bit of a related aside, in my interview with Werner Herzog for his film “Encounters at the End of the World” a year or two ago (yes, you should see the movie, came out earlier this year), he tried to get me to talk about deviant or maladaptive behavior in penguins. I really didn’t know why he persisted in asking me these questions (later I found out it had to do with a penguin that wandered into their camp at the base of the McMurdo Dry Valleys, sort of lost) and I deflected his questioning pretty well (?).

He wanted me to talk about gay penguins…heck, why not, I’m sure there are some of those. There’s that lovely story about the penguins in the Bronx Zoo, Tango Makes Three, banned by some immoral (or at least unauthorized) persons who were put off by what they viewed to be deviant behavior. And then he asked questions about other sorts of things, like prostitution. The latter happens when a devious female (not deviant) gains access to a male’s nest, by being totally submissive, and then makes off with one of his rocks. A researcher published a short note about this several years ago, and of course this made the front page of the London Times. Right, sells newspapers!

Here’s a male (on left) who is not convinced this female is sincere about her intentions.

In any case, check out the following histories. The first was last season, when owing to lots of wind, the pack ice was very extensive during the winter and many penguins had a super long trek to make in the spring. Many arrived later than they should. What to do if you’re a female and your mate is nowhere to be found upon arriving at Cape Royds? Well, one female attracted a young, mateless male (Band # 04163) to her nest. They paired, and she laid eggs and then departed, as females are supposed to do. Well, a few days later the female’s mate of the previous year apparently returned, kicked #04163 off the nest, and of course the eggs, in the process. #04163 moped around for a week. The female came back and, of course, associated with her old mate. #04163 moped some more and then left. This past season, he showed up again and attracted a female (the one of the previous season?), who laid eggs, and on they went for quite a while (eventually skuas stole the eggs). Hmmm.

A penguin alone on its nest, but with whose eggs?

This season, without much wind during winter, the large-scale pack ice was not extensive and so wintering areas were closer than usual. Many birds arrived a week earlier than in the past since they had a much shorter distance to travel. In one case, female #02985 arrived much later than her mate, paired with another male, and quickly laid eggs. That mate, having been around a while, then left first but returned in 7 days, just in time. Off she went, but then this male’s former partner arrived and began tending the nest and eggs. Eventually, #02985 came back, very late owing to that 70 km walk, and found herself without a nest. The two formerly paired birds currently are raising two, somewhat adopted young. #02985 is pacing around, dejected.

A similar scenario happened, this time with another female banded penguin, #03809. She paired, apparently with a new partner, laid eggs and off she went. Same sort of thing happened. She eventually came back, again after a longer than usual trip, to find a stranger on the nest. Well, she somehow managed to sit on the eggs for two days, but then other bird came back and displaced her. So, she’s looking on from a spot above the nest in question.

A loving parent, regardless of who was responsible for adding the egg (and ultimately the chick) to the nest.

So, there you have this deviant behavior in penguins. Of course, the really ‘deviant’ behavior (but which I’m sure would not pass as immoral to many people) are the males who come back late to find their ‘homes’ occupied, and then blast the occupants off the property, eggs and/or chicks to boot. You know, protecting one’s home is allowed and is the ‘first’ rule (according to certain national leaders of ours). Then they strut around, collecting rocks to make their castle, friendless and at least for awhile, mateless.

So, you see, penguins are just like people.

Ms. Ellwood, a veteran science teacher, is also an accomplished ice diver working with a science research group in Antarctica’s Dry Valleys. Headed by Dr. Peter Doran from the University of Illinois, they are studying the fresh water lakes of that remote region. The lakes form primarily from glacier runoff, as it rarely snows and never rains in this part of the continent.

This year the team brought down the Endurance, a large robotic camera and data collector, or ‘Bot’ as it is affectionately called. Gathering data in larger amounts and in a shorter time than humans could do from the surface or diving, this sophisticated machine will map the floor, and provide water analysis of these remarkable lakes. You can learn more about their project and see pictures of the Bot here.

Not to be left out of the project, the Rye students designed and built their own robotic camera which had to be able to function in the extreme cold salty water of the Antarctica ocean. Getting the neutral buoyancy just right and using materials that were appropriate in Antarctica’s fragile environment provided many challenges, but all were well met.

“ScubaDoobaDoo” was successfully launched in the ocean and took its first underwater video in the Ross Sea, Antarctica, November 2008. Its performance was outstanding, it was easy to maneuver and the videos were excellent, reported Ms. Ellwood.

The students can be very proud of their accomplishment. The students’ project was funded in part by the school’s PTA.

ScubaDoobaDoo.

ScubaDoobaDoo’s camera in front uses the LED light source next to it. Under the ice in Antarctica it is not only very cold, but very dark. The switch box houses the controls: right and left motors for turning and forward and back motion, the top motor for up and down motion. The video is sent to the DVD player through the 100 foot cable attached to the camera.

ScubaDoobaDoo taking a video of me taking a picture of it.

Close up of one of the motors.

Robin Ellwood getting ready to launch ScubaDoobaDoo in the fish tank, Crary Laboratory, McMurdo.

ScubaDoobaDoo at neutral buoyancy in -1.6 C ocean water. Ready for action.

ScubaDoobaDoo next to the ‘Bot’.

Next to the Bot, ScubaDoobaDoo was overheard saying “When I grow up, I want to be like him.” He is well on his way.

In the video below, see ScubaDoobaDoo perform in one of the large aquarium tanks in McMurdo.

The reason we go to Beaufort is that it appears to be the true “penguin pump” in this cluster of colonies in the southern Ross Sea. We want to confirm this. The colony at Cape Crozier produces lots of chicks, like Beaufort, but it has a huge area for expansion, if the penguins are up to that. Mostly they are not, because more and more penguins in one area leads to more competition for food in nearby waters. To avoid that, young Crozier penguins might want to find a territory elsewhere, or not, like at Cape Bird.

The Beaufort colony also regularly produces a lot of chicks, but until recently there was no room for the young prebreeders that result from that to find a spot, except in very poor habitat (see below). That’s why young Crozier birds didn’t want to move there either. The Beaufort breeding area has been hemmed in by vertical cliffs behind, and open ocean the other way. Penguins would be everywhere where they possibly could be, wall-to-wall so to speak. Penguins that didn’t want to tussle for a spot definitely would show up elsewhere like Cape Royds: lots of space there and no competition for food. We know this because we’ve been making the icebreaker trips almost every year since 1996 in order to band a bunch of chicks at Beaufort. In later years, we see these banded birds at Beaufort but in disproportionate numbers we see them at the other colonies, too…until recently.

Beaufort, 2001.

Here’s a shot of Beaufort from the air taken in 2001; west is towards the background. You can see the ‘shelf’ of gravel on which the colony nestles, hemmed in by precipitous cliffs in the back, snow fields to the west, and the ocean. Penguins are everywhere that there is level ground and no ice (there are about 60,000 nests crammed into this area). The west end of the colony is hemmed in by ice fields (see next photo).

Yes, disproportionate numbers of penguins raised at Beaufort have been going elsewhere until a few years ago when global climate change began to kick in around here. Then, with slightly warmer temperatures the snow and ice fields on Beaufort began to rapidly retreat [sound familiar? Hey, I drove up to see Glacier National Park this past summer to see the glaciers before they are gone….maybe by 2015 they say.] This warming caused the ice to retreat at Beaufort also, thus exposing lots of terrain with lots of small pebbles, ideal for nests.

A new breeding area at Beaufort.

Here is a picture of penguins setting up territories at the west periphery of the colony that until recently, 2001 (see aerial Beaufort photo) was covered (probably for the last 20,000 years) by snow and ice. These penguins were not here in 2001. So, you see, that bad-ee, Global Climate Change, can be “good” sometimes!

Well, there are so many penguins trying to find a nest at Beaufort, and so little space and not enough rocks, that, actually, Global Climate Change is not happening fast enough!! As a result, many penguins are nesting in suboptimal habitat and more than likely they will lose their nests and its eggs. This will force them to be more prudent next season. Either they will set up nests at the west end of Beaufort (see photo above)…the most likely….or many will seek out places like Cape Royds, where lots of stones are to be had along with lots of space (and usually open water; see next blog dispatch).

With stones in short supply, some penguins turn to nesting in guano (penguin poop).

These penguins are nesting in scoops in the guano with almost no stones. All of the stones have been used up by other penguins! More than likely their eggs will roll out of the nest and, in fact, on our next visit following this one, we found eggs EVERYWHERE.

With an insufficient number of rocks holding a nest together, penguins’ eggs roll out and are lost.

There are well over 30 whole eggs in this picture that have rolled out of nests. There simply were not enough rocks for the penguins to build the protective “basket” to hold them.

Still lots of nests had eggs but lots had rolled away– so many that the skuas had too many to eat! The other thing that happens when a penguin has a scoop but no stones, is that it fills up with water. That’s bad for eggs and chicks.

Penguins with drowned nests.

Here are penguins who built nests, and laid eggs, in a depression that initially was dry but now is filled with melt water. There was no room for them on high ground. Yes, there are eggs underneath these birds!! This is a demonstration of how staunch penguins are, in spite of adversity. They won’t give up until the conditions become impossible. These are impossible conditions, and yes, these penguins gave up!

Ill-fated nests.

Here are a bunch of penguins that have built their nests on a nice sandy beach (above). How idyllic! It’s the kind of place that people would hang out; all we need are some palm trees. However, when all that ice in the background eventually melts later in the summer, then the sea is going to come pouring in, waves crashing, to wash the penguins’ feet, but also their eggs and chicks, too. These penguins, too, next season will be looking elsewhere for making a nest!

So you see, and I know you’ve been told this before, Nature works in strange ways. It takes some adversity to convince penguins, and people, to alter their behavior…that is, to stay in higher or safer ground!!!! This is going to be the same for people beginning very soon, as global climate change REALLY gets going. I hear that insurance companies no longer are insuring houses on the US Gulf Coast, owing to increasing numbers of hurricanes and rising sea level. See, if the insurance companies can’t afford this, neither can the rest of us. Where are all those Floridians going to be living? In Georgia, I guess. Penguin Insurance Companies, to stay in business, would not insure these penguins’ homes shown above. (Penguins don’t get government bailouts for bad decisions.)

MCMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA– The last couple of days have been really busy down here at McMurdo. I’ve been going through a lot of training sessions and have had many meetings with our Team. We’ve been trying to get all of our equipment together for the long journey across the sea ice to New Harbor. It’s a really long process to make sure we have everything we’re going to need at the field camp.

But today I had some free time in the morning. The weather was incredibly clear and crisp. I took the opportunity to climb up Observation Hill.

Observation Hill.

Observation Hill is a large hill that is 750 feet tall next to McMurdo Station. It is commonly called “Ob Hill” by the people who live and work here. It is the most climbed peak in Antarctica. The hill was named by Captain Robert Falcon Scott’s Discovery Expedition when they explored this area of Antarctica between 1901 and 1904. Members of Scott’s team would climb to the top to make weather observations.

The further I got up on Ob Hill, the better the views became. I could see all the way across McMurdo Sound. I could see Mt. Discovery (right), Black Island (left), Brown Peninsula (low, and in the middle), and the Royal Society Range of mountains (not shown) as they stretched to the north as far as the eye could see. The straight line on the ice was the roadway that I traveled on from Pegasus Field just a few days before.

Southwest view across McMurdo Sound looking at Mt. Discovery (right), Black Island (left), and Brown Peninsula (low, in the middle). The straight line across the ice is the road to Pegasus Field where we landed.

As I climbed higher and higher, it became windier and colder. Snow was blowing around and I was glad I brought my thick insulated gloves and my ski goggles with me. With the cloudless blue sunny sky above, I bundled up and continued up to the summit.

Almost to the top.

Finally I got to the top of Ob Hill. I gazed down on McMurdo Station 750 feet below me. It looked like a tiny town. There are fewer than 1000 people here now, with more on the way. The population will grow to nearly 2000 during the height of the summer season. I’m amazed at how efficiently this small community runs to support the lives and activities of the people who venture down to the white continent. Looking down at McMurdo Station from this vantage point reminded me just how isolated we truly are down here.

McMurdo Station from the summit of Observation Hill.

There’s a giant cross that was erected on the top of Observation Hill to honor Captain Robert Falcon Scott and the members of his expedition who died on their return traverse from the South Pole during their Terra Nova expedition between 1910 and 1913.

Observation Hill Cross.

Scott and his men got trapped in their tent on the Ross Ice Shelf during an unusually long storm. They were already very weak and they ran out of food. When they got trapped, they were only 11 miles from a depot where they had enough food to get back to their camp on Ross Island. On the cross that Scott’s men built is an inscription from “Ulysses” by Alfred Tennyson which reads: “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” These words are inspiring to me. I will try to not cease my own efforts to understand future climate change. To do this, I am in pursuit of knowledge of the past climate on the continent of Antarctica.

This place is so stunningly beautiful. Everywhere I look away from McMurdo Station I see various shapes of dark grey rocky peaks covered with white snow and ice. That or the smooth, flat ice of the Ross Ice Shelf and the lumpy sea ice floating on the surface of the Ross Sea in McMurdo Sound. It’s easy to get lost in the sheer expanse and isolation of this wilderness. But focusing on the details of the shapes, the way snow blows over a mountaintop, or how the sun moves around the sky in a circle gives perspective on singular aspects of the beauty of Antarctica. I can’t wait to get out into the field, to be away from “civilization” in town, to see new views of this other world.

Looking northeast across the summit of Ob Hill to Mt. Erebus.

There are constant reminders here of past exploration. Looking to the north from the summit of Ob Hill I could see Hut Point at the end of Hut Point Peninsula. The peninsula sticks out 15 miles to the southwest like a little finger off of the side of Mt. Erebus. There, a cross memorializing another fallen explorer and Scott’s Discovery Hut.

Looking north to Hut Point and Scott’s Discovery Hut.

As I descended Ob Hill to get back into the warmth of my room, I snapped one more photo of the wind-swept Mt. Erebus. The smoke and vapor coming out of the top of the volcano, and the snow and ice crystals being blown across the landscape show me how dynamic this environment is.

A windswept Mt. Erebus.

The glorious day turned into an amazing night. Seeing the sun dip behind the Royal Society Range around 11pm was a rare picturesque treat. Our last sunset here will be on October 21st. After that we’ll just watch the sun circle around the sky, neither rising nor setting. It will just roll around the heavens all day.

Sun setting across the Royal Society Range.

Tonight’s vivid scenery was accentuated by thin wispy clouds illuminated by the setting sun behind Mt. Discovery. I had to go outside and take some photographs. I could get used to this place!

Sunset behind Mt. Discovery.

Although the penguin is the icon of the Antarctic, many penguins prefer lower latitudes. Several species venture as far south as the Antarctic Peninsula, but only the emperors and the Adélies live along the continental coastline.

An Adélie penguin.

A typical Adélie nest.

Adélies

If you were to conjure up an image of a penguin, it would probably look quite a lot like an Adélie: With a black back and white front, it’s the archetypical tuxedo-clad penguin. Named for Adéle, the wife of French explorer Admiral Durmont d’Urville, the Adélie is also one of the best-studied penguins.

Adélies spend most of the year at sea, but in October, when spring comes to Antarctica, they head for dry land on which to build nests, mate, lay eggs, and raise their chicks. An Adélie nest is lined with small stones. Prize pebbles are squabbled over and often purloined from inattentive neighbors.

In early November, the female lays two eggs and returns to the sea to feed, leaving the male to be the eggs’ first caretaker. The parents take turns incubating the eggs though, which hatch in about 35 days, and they continue to alternate between gathering food and watching over the young chicks.

A newly hatched Adélie.

A young Adélie with a full stomach.

Finally, the growing chicks, too hungry to be provisioned by just one parent at a time, are left together in a tightly packed group called a crèche, while both parents go hunting. In February, the juveniles exchange their down coats for seaworthy adult feathers and, along with the adults, soon leave the breeding ground for the pack ice.

Adélies breed in a number of places along the Antarctic coast, from the Ross Sea in the south to the Antarctic Peninsula far to the north. The southernmost quartet of colonies—at Cape Crozier, Cape Bird, and Cape Royds on Ross Island and another on Beaufort Island—differ from each other in size, weather, and distance from the open sea. Cape Crozier, known as Penguin City, is by far the largest, with about 150,000 breeding pairs. The trip from Penguin City to the ocean is a short one, but the large number of birds means that competition for food is intense. Life is more of a picnic for the penguins in the smaller colonies, even if they must walk a bit farther to reach the food.

Adélie penguins at Cape Bird.

An Adélie tries in vain to rescue its eggs from rising glacial meltwater.

In general, though, all the Ross Sea Adélies are doing well. Climate change has brought stronger winds that keep the water near the shore almost free of ice, making feeding areas more accessible. A warmer climate is benefiting these penguins—for the moment. But if temperatures continue to climb, these birds will face the severe problems being experienced by the Adélie in the Antarctic Peninsula region.

In the many months that the Adélies are away from land, they’re dependent on sea ice. It’s where they hunt and otherwise live. If their winter habitat is diminished, so are the penguins. This is currently the plight of the Adélies near the western Antarctic Peninsula—the region of Antarctica that’s experienced the greatest warming and greatest loss of sea ice. In addition, commercial fisheries and growing numbers of whales are increasingly competing for the reduced numbers of krill, a staple of the Adélie diet. This penguin population has declined by 80 percent since the 1970s.

Other climate changes will probably affect the breeding success of the Adélies. Antarctica is the driest place on earth—but with higher temperatures comes more precipitation and more meltwater from current snowfall and ancient glaciers. The pebbles that line an Adélie nest will protect the eggs from a small amount of meltwater, but a significant amount of meltwater will wash them away. And a serious snowstorm can not only destroy the eggs but can bury a stoic parent who tries to shelter them.

According to biologist David Ainley, who’s been studying Adélie penguins in Antarctica for more than twenty-five years, “If global warming begins to influence the more southern reaches of the Antarctic continent, then the entire world’s population of Adélie penguins could be at risk.”

Emperor penguin.

Emperors

The story of the emperors is one of superlatives: They are the tallest penguins, and the heaviest. They can dive the deepest. And they breed and raise their chicks in the harshest environmental conditions.

Unlike any other penguin, emperors raise their young during the Antarctic winter. Undaunted by fierce winds and plummeting temperatures, the mature emperors heave themselves out of the sea in March and head for their breeding grounds. The trek may be a long one: In the film March of the Penguins, the emperors walk about 70 miles (113 km), but for some other colonies, the distance is considerably less. Most colonies—there maybe 25 to 30—breed on fast ice along the coast, although two known colonies breed on land.

Emperor penguins courting.

Courtships happen in a hurry, and in May or early June each female lays a single egg that must be carefully transferred to the feet of her mate. The male covers the egg with a flap of skin from its abdomen called a brood pouch and incubates the egg for two months. To keep warm during this dark, cold time, the papa penguins huddle closely together, taking turns being on the outside and inside of the group.

Once the eggs are safely in the care of the males, the females immediately return to the sea to hunt. If all goes well, they’ll be back in time to feed their newly hatched chicks. Then, like Adélie parents, the adults alternate making trips to the sea to satisfy the voracious appetites of their fast-growing youngsters. Eventually, when the chicks are large enough to take care of themselves, the parents begin to forage at the same time. In December or January, all the birds make their way to the sea—a shorter distance now that, with warmer temperatures, some of the fast ice has broken out.

Emperors march single-file from the sea to their breeding grounds in a line that may contain thousands of individuals.

The emperors have amazing adaptations that help them withstand the cold, go without food for many long weeks, and make arduous trips back and forth to the sea. Their adaptations for diving are impressive as well. Their dives have been measured to 1800 feet (550 m) and dives lasting more than 20 minutes have been recorded. Pressure increases with depth, which endangers gas-filled organs such as the lungs, but the emperors can protect their lungs by collapsing them. This stops the transfer of oxygen from the lungs to the bloodstream, but the emperors conserve oxygen by slowing their heart rate during dives. They also have extraordinary amounts of oxygen stored in muscle tissue and can use virtually all the oxygen in their bloodstream before having to surface for more.

A group of emperor penguins dive beneath the ice, seen through an underwater observation tube.

Paul Ponganis, who is both a research biologist and an anesthesiologist, studies diving penguins at Antarctica’s Penguin Ranch research facility with his colleague from the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, Jerry Kooyman. Ponganis thinks that what they learn about emperor physiology may have applications for human medical care such as for stroke victims who can sustain permanent damage if their brains don’t get enough oxygen.

Emperors have successfully survived for millennia, but as the environment undergoes rapid changes, their future is uncertain. Global warming may result in thin, unstable fast ice that breaks out too early, drowning eggs or chicks. Emperors also seem likely to face a declining food supply due both to pressure from commercial fisheries and to climate change.

In December 2008, however, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service denied protection under the Endangered Species Act (ESA) to the emperor penguin and two other penguins it had considered, although it did propose to list six penguin species. According to its news release on December 17, “The Service does not have sufficient scientific information to conclude that in the foreseeable future, the habitat of the emperor penguin will be altered to the point where the species is threatened with extinction.”