We arrived at the Oamaru Blue Penguin Colony about half past eight and sat in bleachers under a high roof with yellow lights barely beginning to show their existence in the darkening sky. The sea in front of us slowly turned from emerald green to indigo and the sun moved closer to the horizon.
Out in the water a frothy irregular circle could be seen, slowly approaching the rocky shore. As it got closer this circle proved to be a group of the small blue penguins, a raft of penguins. The waves lifted loudly and menacingly and crashed on the rugged boulders at water's edge. Suddenly the froth was filled with small figures and it crashed ashore and about two dozen little birds bolted from the wave before it subsided and sucked back into the blackening sea.
For several minutes they remained out of view, hidden by the large rock, but then they began to advance up the incline of the beach, stopping in small conversational groups, heads wobbling and wings flapping, discussing the work of the day. They preened their feathers to free them of sea water and occasionally gave their heads a sharp snap to shake the salt out of their eyes (they excrete the excess salt accumulated in sea water through their tear ducts).
After a few minutes of this "visiting" as a group they waddled up the rocky slope to what looked like a roadway for vehicles to access the nesting area and monitor nest boxes. There they crowded closer and closer together at road's edge, pushing and shoving but not venturing a step farther. Suddenly they all made a dash across the road like the school crossing guard had just given them the go ahead and filed into a v-shaped pen pointing out from the fence protecting the nesting area. A study meter-high fence separated the nesting area from the beach proper to limit access of predators. Small portals are spaced several meters apart along the bottom along this fence through which the little blues can dodge onto the nesting area. They waste little time from when they crowd into the V-pen and dive through the portal into the nesting area. They looked like commuters getting off the evening train and making a dash for their own homes. Each little bird flew on their tiny feet, sometimes scooting several feet in a belly flop, off in the direction of its own nest. Upon arriving they would duck inside and there was a lot of squawking going on all over the shrubby hillside.
After a few minutes a bird would emerge and look around at the raucous activities surrounding it and join in the general clamor of the colony. Was it even the same bird?
This dive from the sea, march up the beach and charge through the fence continued for nearly an hour. Over two hundred birds eventually made it home that night, perhaps with dinner.
The orange lights were invisible to the penguins so we could watch them unimpeded. Some come up outside the controlled nesting area and travel in the dark to their unprotected nests. There were several on the roadway as we returned to our cars in the dark parking lot.
Earlier in the evening we had gone to another beach to see Yellow-eye Penguins. That was a real "Where's Waldo" enterprise. After some confusing turns we finally arrived at the beach where the Hoiho nest. Quite a crowd of tourists had accumulated on the cliff overlooking the beach area. Below we could see nothing but barren beach being pummeled by foamy surf. An entourage of views were hunkered in a blind (awfully big, crowded and noisy to deserve the name) at the north end of the narrow trail running along the top.
Finally, far below a plump, black figure rolled out of the surf and headed for the cliff side. The little bird scrambled up the rocky embankment with great and impressive agility. I could imagine such speed and assuredness from a goat or perhaps even a seasoned stock dog, but could not imagine myself even trying to scale it and yet here was this little yellow-eye with virtually no legs at all scampering up to its nest.
Once we could see a nest and the accompanying young, we started to scan the bank for others. Sure enough, we spotted several other nests amid the brush and grass. I believe these little fellows are endangered and seeing a large flock of them like you might see on a TV nature show is not to be expected anymore. After successfully coping with seals and whales in the open waters of the Pacific and South Sea for millennia, they have not fared well with man and the land mammals introduced in the last century and a half.
We watched the birds for a while -the adults were want to just crash after some hasty feeding of the young- and since it was drawing near to the time that the little Blue Penguins would be coming in on another beach, we left and hurried back to the center.
Our first day in Oamaru was coming to a very rewarding and memorable ending.
Out in the water a frothy irregular circle could be seen, slowly approaching the rocky shore. As it got closer this circle proved to be a group of the small blue penguins, a raft of penguins. The waves lifted loudly and menacingly and crashed on the rugged boulders at water's edge. Suddenly the froth was filled with small figures and it crashed ashore and about two dozen little birds bolted from the wave before it subsided and sucked back into the blackening sea.
For several minutes they remained out of view, hidden by the large rock, but then they began to advance up the incline of the beach, stopping in small conversational groups, heads wobbling and wings flapping, discussing the work of the day. They preened their feathers to free them of sea water and occasionally gave their heads a sharp snap to shake the salt out of their eyes (they excrete the excess salt accumulated in sea water through their tear ducts).
After a few minutes of this "visiting" as a group they waddled up the rocky slope to what looked like a roadway for vehicles to access the nesting area and monitor nest boxes. There they crowded closer and closer together at road's edge, pushing and shoving but not venturing a step farther. Suddenly they all made a dash across the road like the school crossing guard had just given them the go ahead and filed into a v-shaped pen pointing out from the fence protecting the nesting area. A study meter-high fence separated the nesting area from the beach proper to limit access of predators. Small portals are spaced several meters apart along the bottom along this fence through which the little blues can dodge onto the nesting area. They waste little time from when they crowd into the V-pen and dive through the portal into the nesting area. They looked like commuters getting off the evening train and making a dash for their own homes. Each little bird flew on their tiny feet, sometimes scooting several feet in a belly flop, off in the direction of its own nest. Upon arriving they would duck inside and there was a lot of squawking going on all over the shrubby hillside.
After a few minutes a bird would emerge and look around at the raucous activities surrounding it and join in the general clamor of the colony. Was it even the same bird?
This dive from the sea, march up the beach and charge through the fence continued for nearly an hour. Over two hundred birds eventually made it home that night, perhaps with dinner.
The orange lights were invisible to the penguins so we could watch them unimpeded. Some come up outside the controlled nesting area and travel in the dark to their unprotected nests. There were several on the roadway as we returned to our cars in the dark parking lot.
Earlier in the evening we had gone to another beach to see Yellow-eye Penguins. That was a real "Where's Waldo" enterprise. After some confusing turns we finally arrived at the beach where the Hoiho nest. Quite a crowd of tourists had accumulated on the cliff overlooking the beach area. Below we could see nothing but barren beach being pummeled by foamy surf. An entourage of views were hunkered in a blind (awfully big, crowded and noisy to deserve the name) at the north end of the narrow trail running along the top. |
| The young bird in the nest was more photogenic than the adult |
We watched the birds for a while -the adults were want to just crash after some hasty feeding of the young- and since it was drawing near to the time that the little Blue Penguins would be coming in on another beach, we left and hurried back to the center.
Our first day in Oamaru was coming to a very rewarding and memorable ending.
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