Saturday, January 14, 2006

“Penguins Are Nervous, Sea Lions Are Not.”

Elm Tours is the way to see the wildlife of the Otago Peninsula. They hire people in the know (students of marine biology, for instance) to sit at the front of the bus and lead hikes down to the shore where the rare native species of fauna live and are protected.

First stop: the colony of Royal Albatross on Tairoa Head at the end of the peninsula. Albatross are members of a family of pelagic birds renowned for their ability to fly long distances over open ocean. The royal albatross, for instance, has two landing-places: the Otago Peninsula and the tip of South America. It spends two years or more at a time at sea, soaring over the ocean or sleeping on the water. They’re one of the few birds that can sleep on the water (some biologists theorize that the albatross can “sleep” while flying, by turning off one half of its brain at a time, as dolphins can do—but this theory is unconfirmed).

The albatross has superior physical advantage. Its wingspan is over three yards compared to a body less than a yard long. They have such fine skill with their fingers and feathers that they can ride the wind currents for hundreds of miles without flapping. When they take off from a cliff into the wind, they just open their wings and slide off, catching the wind in their enormous wingspan and rising into the air. They are gorgeous to see in flight: long thin black wings on a small white body drifting through the air overhead. The gulls all around flap and stumble in the Pacific winds while the albatross glides with no effort.

We got close enough to see the mother albatross sitting on their eggs, feathers ruffled by the 60-mph winds. Down the slope was a large colony of cormorants, and of course the ubiquitous sea gulls all around. Of the three the albatross is the most grand and the most endangered. But with some help from the biologists at the conservatory they’re holding their own.

Next stop: the New Zealand Fur Seal. We got within fifty yards of a colony of fur seals and their pups basking on the black rocks in the afternoon sun and wind. Not much action here, unless you count the baby seals learning to swim in the shallow tidepools, sloshing in the water and seaweed. Three generations (of seals) ago the population of fur seals was down to one female seal. Since then, she has had pups and her children and grandchildren have had pups. The near-extinction wrought by seal-hunters is fading away, but not without the grace of a local farmer who owns the coastline and is willing to fence it off so the folks can’t access the colony without permission.

Next stop: up close with a New Zealand Sea Lion. What’s the difference between a seal and a sea lion? I asked. Seals have pointier noses and narrower faces; sea lions have flatter noses and broader faces. But they’re the same family of mammal.

We walked right onto the beach and within ten yards of a male sea lion. Ten yards? Yeah. The wildlife guy said it was alright. He said that sea lions can run up to 20 kph (about 13 mph) on land, over short distances. They’re not nervous about humans; in fact, if they get disturbed they’re more likely to run toward you than away. So ten yards is the distance you need to beat a sea lion in a foot race. He’ll be out of breath before you will—if you’re in shape.

(If you’ve ever played “Worst Case Scenario,” [Sophie!] you’ll know that the game’s remedy for a seal attacking you is to “lie on the beach and flap your arms as if you’re a seal.” Well, according to our marine biologist—whose research was on seals and sea lions—that may not be the best course of action. While seals do respond to submissive behaviour, they are also known to engage in unsolicited sexual behaviour. If you lie down on the beach when a seal charges you, he may decide to have a cozy moment with you. As our guide put it, “Yeah, and here’s a photo of me on holiday, being humped by an angry seal.” Not something I want in my photo album. Mind you, once the 600-pound animal has climbed on top of you, its sexual advances may not be the greater problem.

Is there a disclaimer on those Worst Case Scenario cards?)

We were not attacked by the sea lion. He moseyed on down the beach, giving us a passing glance as we walked inland toward the hide from which we could view the penguins.

Last stop: Yellow-Eyed Penguins. They’re the rarest penguins in the world. They swim out every day 20 kilometres to the edge of the continental shelf to hunt fish then return to their nests on shore. We saw them clamber out of the surf and stand on the beach, head up and wings out, trying to cool off. Apparently penguins are so well designed for the cold Pacific waters that once they get on land they overheat quickly. So they have to stand in the wind with their wings outstretched to cool off. It looks like they just woke up, stepped outside, and are taking a breath of fresh air.

Slowly the penguins make their way to the grassy slope where they climb up the steep hill to the nesting ground, 50 metres high. One thing I never expected to see is penguins in the grass. I’m so used to thinking of them as ice-birds that seeing a penguin waddling up a bright green grassy slope struck me as strange. Curiouser and curiouser.

Meanwhile, our friend the sea lion had come over to sit on the beach just in front of where we were hidden from the penguins’ view. For some time I thought we might get to see some “Wild Kingdom” action if the sea lion decided to have a bite to eat of one of the penguins or the flock of seagulls. Endangered species versus endangered species. Whom do you root for? But the sea lion just lay down for a nap, so we didn’t see any bestial bloodshed.

But we saw some cool animals. God did a good job with marine animals.

When we were done watching the penguins we tramped back up the grassy slope, weaving between stands of thistles and sheep-poop, to our little van. The sun set as we drove along the shore of the Otago Peninsula, the first pink sky we’ve seen since coming to New Zealand. It bodes well for our journeys on the west coast. Six hours of wildlife watching wore us out—but it was well worth it to see those creatures that can be seen nowhere else.

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