As I grew to know these birds from continued observation, it was surprising and interesting to note how much they differed in character, though the weaker-minded who would actually allow themselves to be robbed, were few and far between, as might be expected. Few, if any, of these ever could succeed in hatching their young and winning them through to the feathered stage.

When starting to make her nest, the usual procedure is for the hen to squat on the ground for some time, probably to thaw it, then working with her claws to scratch away at the material beneath her, shooting out the rubble behind her. As she does this she shifts her position in a circular direction until she has sc.r.a.ped out a round hollow. Then the c.o.c.k brings stones, performing journey after journey, returning each time with one pebble in his beak which he deposits in front of the hen who places it in position.

Sometimes the hollow is lined with a neat pavement of stones placed side by side, one layer deep, on which the hen squats, afterwards building up the sides around her. At other times the scoop would be filled up indiscriminately by a heap of pebbles on which the hen then sat, working herself down into a hollow in the middle.

Individuals differ, not only in their building methods, but also in the size of the stones they select. Side by side may be seen a nest composed wholly of very big stones, so large that it is a matter for wonder how the birds can carry them, and another nest of quite small stones.

(Fig. 14.)

Different couples seem to vary much in character or mood. Some can be seen quarrelling violently, whilst others appear most affectionate, and the tender politeness of some of these latter toward one another is very pretty to see. (Fig. 13.)

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 14. "SIDE BY SIDE ... NESTS OF VERY BIG STONES AND NESTS OF VERY SMALL STONES" (Page 26)]

I may here mention that the temperatures were rising considerably by October 19, ranging about zero F.

During October 20 the stream of arrivals was incessant. Some mingled at once with the crowd, others lay in batches on the sea-ice a few yards short of the rookery, content to have got so far, and evidently feeling the need for rest after their long journey from the pack. The greater part of this journey was doubtless performed by swimming, as they crossed open water, but I think that much of it must have been done on foot over many miles of sea-ice, to account for the fatigue of many of them.

Their swimming I will describe later. On the ice they have two modes of progression. The first is simple walking. Their legs being very short, their stride amounts at most to four inches. Their rate of stepping averages about one hundred and twenty steps per minute when on the march.

Their second mode of progression is "tobogganing." When wearied by walking or when the surface is particularly suitable, they fall forward on to their white b.r.e.a.s.t.s, smooth and shimmering with a beautiful metallic l.u.s.tre in the sunlight, and push themselves along by alternate powerful little strokes of their legs behind them.

When quietly on the march, both walking and tobogganing produce the same rate of progression, so that the string of arriving birds, tailing out in a long line as far as the horizon, appears as a well-ordered procession. I walked out a mile or so along this line, standing for some time watching it tail past me and taking the photographs with which I have ill.u.s.trated the scene. Most of the little creatures seemed much out of breath, their wheezy respiration being distinctly heard.

First would pa.s.s a string of them walking, then a dozen or so tobogganing. (Fig. 15.) Suddenly those that walked would flop on to their b.r.e.a.s.t.s and start tobogganing, and conversely strings of tobogganers would as suddenly pop up on to their feet and start walking.

In this way they relieved the monotony of their march, and gave periodical rest to different groups of muscles and nerve-centres.

The surface of the snow on the sea-ice varied continually, and over any very smooth patches the pedestrians almost invariably started to toboggan, whilst over "bad going" they all had perforce to walk.

Figs. 16, 17, 18 and 19 present some idea of the procession of these thousands on thousands of penguins as day after day they pa.s.sed into the rookery.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 15. ON THE MARCH TO THE ROOKERY OVER THE SEA-ICE.

SOME ARE WALKING AND SOME "TOBOGGANING" (Page 28)]

When tobogganing, turning to one side or the other is done with one or more strokes of the opposite flipper. When fleeing or chasing, both flippers as well as both feet are used in propulsion, and over most surfaces tobogganing is thus their fastest mode of progression, but when going at full tilt it is also the most exhausting, and after a short spurt in this way they invariably return to the walking position.

By October 20 many of the nests were complete, and the hens sat in them, though no eggs were to be seen yet. In the middle of one of the frozen lakes rose a little island, well suited for nesting except for the fact that later in the season, probably about the time when the young chicks were hatched, the lake would be thawed and the approach to the island only to be accomplished through about six inches or more of dirty water and ooze. Until then, however, the surface of the lake would remain frozen, and was at this time covered with snow.

Not a penguin attempted to build its nest on this island, though many pa.s.sed it or walked over it in crossing the lake. How did they realize that later on they would get dirty every time they journeyed to or from the spot?

Not far from this island another mound rose from the lake, but this was connected with the "mainland" by a narrow neck of guano-covered pebbles.

This mound was covered with nests, showing that the birds understood this place could always be reached over dry land. Surely this was well worth remarking.

There was a part of the ice-foot on the south side of the rookery where a track worn by many ascending penguins could be seen, leading from the sea-ice on to the beach. The place was steep and the ice slippery, and, in fact, the track led straight up a most difficult ascent. Not ten yards from this well-worn track a perfectly easy slope led up from the sea-ice to the rookery. The tracks in the freshly fallen snow showed that only one penguin had gone up this way. Presumably the first arrival in that place had taken the difficult path, and all subsequent arrivals blindly followed in his tracks, whilst only one had had the good luck or independence to choose the easier way.

On October 21 many thousands of penguins arrived from the northerly direction, and poured on to the beach in a continuous stream, the snaky line of arrivals extending unbroken across the sea-ice as far as the eye could see.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 16. PART OF THE LINE OF APPROACHING BIRDS, SEVERAL MILES IN LENGTH (Page 28)]

A great many now started to climb the heights up the precipitous side of Cape Adare and to build their nests as far as the summit, a height of some 1000 feet, although there was still room for many thousand more down below. What could be their object, considering the wearisome journeys they would have to make to feed their young, it is impossible to say. It might be the result of the same spirit which made them spread out in little scattered groups over the rookery when only a few had arrived, and that they prefer wider room, only putting up with the greater crowding which ensues later as a necessary evil. There is, however, another explanation which I will discuss in another place.

At 9 P.M. it was getting dusk, and the rookery comparatively silent, although on some of the knolls two or three birds might be seen still busily working, toddling to and fro fetching stones. The other thousands lay at rest, their white b.r.e.a.s.t.s flat on the ground, and only their black beaks and heads visible as they lay with their chins stretched forward on the ground, whilst in place of the ma.s.sed discord of clamour heard during the day, the separate voices of some of the busy ones were distinct. A fine powdering of snow was falling.

It would be difficult to estimate the number of penguins that poured into the rookery during the following day. There was no evidence that any pairing had taken place on or before the march, and the birds all had the appearance of being quite independent.

Far away from the beach the line had become thicker, and was no longer in single file, the progress of the birds being slow and steady, but when within half a mile or so from the beach, excitement seemed to take possession of them, and they would break into a run, hastening over the remaining distance, the line now being a thin one, with slight curves in it, each bird running, with wide gait, and outstretched flippers working away in unison with its little legs. In fact, the whole air of the line at this time was that of a school-treat arrived in sight of its playing-fields, and breaking into a run in its eagerness to get there.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 17. ARRIVING AT THE ROOKERY (Page 28)]

Arrived at the rookery, and plunged suddenly amidst the din of that squalling, fighting, struggling crowd, the contrast with the dead silence and loneliness of the pack-ice they had so recently left, was as great a one as can well be imagined; yet once there, the birds seemed collected and at home. This was a matter of surprise to me then, but I remember now my own sensations on arriving home after my life in the Antarctic, and that I felt only slightly the sudden return to the bustle of civilization.

Our presence among them made little or no difference to the penguins.

When we pa.s.sed them closely they would bridle up and swear or even run at us and peck at our legs or batter them with their flippers, but unless their nesting operations were interfered with this attack was short-lived, and the next moment the birds would seem to forget our very existence. If I walked by the side of a long, nest-covered ridge, a low growl arose from every bird as I pa.s.sed it, and the ma.s.sed sound, gathering in front and dying away behind as I advanced, reminded me forcibly of the sound of the crowds on the towing-path at the 'Varsity boatrace as the crews pa.s.s up the river.

Walking actually among the nests, your temper is tried sorely, as every bird within reach has a peck at your legs, and occasionally a c.o.c.k attacks you bravely, battering you with his little flippers in a manner ludicrous at first but aggravating after a time, as the operation is painful and severe enough to leave bruises behind it, and naturally this begins to pall. The courage of these little birds is most remarkable and admirable.

Our hut, being built on the rookery, could only be approached through crowds of penguins. Those that nested near us seemed quickly to become used to us and to take less notice of us than those farther off. One thing, however, terrified them pitiably. We had to fetch ice for our water from some stranded floes on the ice-foot, and this we did in a little sledge. As we hauled this rattling over the pebbly rookery it made a good deal of noise, and in its path nests were deserted, the occupants fleeing in the greatest confusion, a clear road being left for the sledge, whilst on either side a line of penguins was seen retreating in the utmost terror. After about a minute, they returned to their places and seemed to forget the incident, but we were very sorry to frighten them in this way, as we endeavoured to live at peace with them and to molest them as little as possible, and we feared that later on eggs might be spilt from the nests and broken. As time went on, those on the route of the sledge became accustomed even to this, and we were able to choose a course which cleared their nests.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 18. ARRIVING AT THE ROOKERY. IN THE BACKGROUND IS THE CLIFF UP WHICH MANY OF THE BIRDS CLIMB TO MAKE THEIR NESTS AT THE SUMMIT (Page 28)]

Although squabbles and encounters had been frequent since their arrival in any numbers, it now became manifest that there were two very different types of battle; first, the ordinary quarrelling consequent on disputes over nests and the robbery of stones from these, and secondly, the battles between c.o.c.ks who fought for the hens. These last were more earnest and severe, and were carried to a finish, whereas the first named rarely proceeded to extremes.

In regard to the mating of the birds, the following most interesting customs seemed to be prevalent.

The hen would establish herself on an old nest, or in some cases scoop out a hollow in the ground and sit in or by this, waiting for a mate to propose himself. (Fig. 26.) She would not attempt to build while she remained unmated. During the first week of the nesting season, when plenty of fresh arrivals were continually pouring into the rookery, she did not have long to wait as a rule. Later, when the rookery was getting filled up, and only a few birds remained unmated in that vast crowd of some three-quarters of a million, her chances were not so good.

For example, on November 16 on a knoll thickly populated by mated birds, many of which already had eggs, a hen was observed to have scooped a little hollow in the ground and to be sitting in this. Day after day she sat on looking thinner and sadder as time pa.s.sed and making no attempt to build her nest. At last, on November 27, she had her reward, for I found that a c.o.c.k had joined her, and she was busily building her nest in the little scoop she had made so long before, her husband steadily working away to provide her with the necessary pebbles. Her forlorn appearance of the past ten days had entirely given place to an air of occupation and happiness.

As time went on I became certain that invariably pairing took place after arrival at the rookery. On October 23 I went to the place where the stream of arrivals was coming up the beach, and presently followed a single bird, which I afterwards found to be a c.o.c.k, to see what it was going to do. He threaded his way through nearly the whole length of the rookery by himself, avoiding the tenanted knolls where the nests were, by keeping to the emptier hollows. About every hundred yards or so he stopped, ruffled up his feathers, closed his eyes for a moment, then "smoothed himself out" and went on again, thus evidently struggling against desire for sleep after his journey. As he progressed he frequently poked his little head forward and from side to side, peering up at the knolls, evidently in search of something.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 19. Adelies arriving at the Rookery]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 20. A c.o.c.k carrying a Stone to his Nest (Page 21)]

Arrived at length at the south end of the rookery, he appeared suddenly to make up his mind, and boldly ascending a knoll which was well tenanted and covered with nests, walked straight up to one of these on which a hen sat. There was a c.o.c.k standing at her side, but my little friend either did not see him or wished to ignore him altogether. He stuck his beak into the frozen ground in front of the nest, lifted up his head and made as if to place an imaginary stone in front of the hen, a most obvious piece of dumb show. The hen took not the slightest notice nor did her mate.

My friend then turned and walked up to another nest, a yard or so off, where another c.o.c.k and hen were. The c.o.c.k flew at him immediately, and after a short fight, in which each used his flippers savagely, he was driven clean down the side of the knoll away from the nests, the victorious c.o.c.k returning to his hen. The newcomer, with the persistence which characterises his kind, came straight back to the same nest and stood close by it, soon ruffling his feathers and evidently settling himself for a doze, but, I suppose, because he made no further overtures the others took no notice of him at all, as, overcome by sheer weariness, he went to sleep and remained so until I was too cold to await further developments. On my way back to our hut I followed another c.o.c.k for about thirty yards, when he walked up to another couple at a nest and gave battle to the c.o.c.k. He, too, was driven off after a short and decisive fight. Soon there were many c.o.c.ks on the war-path. Little knots of them were to be seen about the rookery, the l.u.s.t of battle in them, watching and fighting each other with desperate jealousy, and the later the season advanced the more "bersac" they became.

A typical scene I find described in my notes for October 25 when I was out with my camera, and I mention it as a type of the hundreds that were proceeding simultaneously over the whole rockery, and also because I was able to photograph different stages of the proceedings as follows:

Fig. 22 shows a group of three c.o.c.ks engaged in bitter rivalry round a hen who is cowering in her scoop in which she had been waiting as is their custom. She appeared to be bewildered and agitated by the desperate behaviour of the c.o.c.ks.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 21. SEVERAL INTERESTING THINGS ARE TAKING PLACE HERE (Page 43)]

On Fig. 23 a further development is depicted, and two of the c.o.c.ks are seen to be squaring up for battle. Close behind and to the right of them are seen (from left to right) the hen and the third c.o.c.k, who are watching to see the result of the contest, and another hen cowering for protection against a c.o.c.k with whom she has become established.

Fig. 24 shows the two combatants hard at it, using their weight as they lean their b.r.e.a.s.t.s against one another, and rain in the blows with their powerful flippers.

Fig. 25 shows the end of the fight, the victor having rushed the vanquished c.o.c.k before him out of the crowd and on to a patch of snow on which, as he was too brave to turn and run, he knocked him down and gave him a terrible hammering.

When his conqueror left him at length, he lay for some two minutes or so on the ground, his heaving breast alone showing that he was alive, so completely exhausted was he, but recovering himself at length he arose and crawled away, a damaged flipper hanging limply by his side, and he took no further part in the proceedings. The victorious bird rushed back up the side of the knoll, and immediately fought the remaining c.o.c.k, who had not moved from his original position, putting him to flight, and chasing him in and out of the crowd, the fugitive doubling and twisting amongst it in a frantic endeavour to get away, and I quickly lost sight of them.