I went to see the fairy penguins at Phillip Island last Sunday. Luckily it was decent weather all day, if a little windy and freezing cold by nightfall. I was disappointed to find out that photographs were strictly forbidden because apparently the flashes make them vomit and run back into the sea. I can understand of course, as a lot of people have those multi-purpose pocket cameras that flash even in full sunlight. But a total ban on photography? They’ve got to sell postcards somehow I suppose.
The penguins were very cute, all silver, slithery and rotund, hobbling gracelessly up the beach, into the scrub and their burrows. Watching them in all their ungainly glory, I couldn’t help but wonder why they still bothered. Couldn’t thousands of years of evolution have taught them how to sleep in the sea? Couldn’t they have found nesting sites that weren’t a thousand metres up a cliff face?
Afraid of the militant rangers sending me back inside like a naughty child, I kept my camera hidden away while the penguins were parading and took a few long exposure shots on the beach as the masses headed for the boardwalks. Looking southwards, the sky was full of constellations I’d never seen before, deep and thick with tiny stars and galaxies. Not forgetting the disorientating upside-down Orion, something I still haven’t got used to here.
When they get back to their burrows the penguins feed their babies by sicking up the food they’ve collected during the day. Over the tramping of feet and general noise of humans cooing I hear the voice of a young girl, ‘Mummy listen, I can hear them all snoring’. Oh the ignorance of youth.
