Eccentricities of the Animal Creation.

by John Timbs

ECCENTRICITIES OF PENGUINS.

THIS group of amphibious birds, though powerless in the wing as an organ of flight, are assisted by it as a species of fin in their rapid divings and evolutions under water, and even as a kind of anterior of extremity when progressing on the land. Their lot has been wisely cast on those desolate southern islands and shores where man rarely intrudes, and in many instances where a churlish climate or a barren soil offers no temptations to him to invade their territory.

Le Vaillant, when on Dassen Island, found that the smaller crevices of the rocks served as places of retreat for Penguins, which swarmed there. "This bird," says Le Vaillant, which is about two feet in length, "does not carry its body in the same manner as others: it stands perpendicularly on its two feet, which gives it an air of gravity, so much the more ridiculous as its wings, which have no feathers, hang carelessly down on each side; it never uses them but in swimming. As we advanced towards the middle of the island we met innumerable troops of them. Standing firm and erect on their legs, these animals never deranged themselves in the least to let us pass; they more particularly surrounded the mausoleum, and seemed as if determined to prevent us from approaching it. All the environs were entirely beset with them. Nature had done more for the plain tomb of the poor Danish captain than what proceeds from the imaginations of poets or the chisels of our artists. The hideous owl, however well sculptured in our churches, has not half so dead and melancholy an air as the Penguin. The mournful cries of this animal, mixed with those of the sea-calf, impressed on my mind a kind of gloom which much disposed me to tender sensations of sadness. My eyes were sometime fixed on the last abode of the unfortunate traveller, and I gave his manes the tribute of a sigh."

Sir John Narborough says of the Patagonian Penguins that their erect attitude and bluish-black backs, contrasted with their white bellies, might cause them to be taken at a distance for young children with white pinafores on. A line of them is engraved in Webster's "Voyage of the Chanticleer," and reminds us of one of the woodcuts in Hood's "Comic Annual."

The "towns, camps, and rookeries," as they have been called, of Penguins have been often described. At the Falkland Islands are assemblies of Penguins, which give a dreary desolation to the place, in the utter absence of the human race. In some of the towns voyagers describe a general stillness, and when the intruders walked among the feathered population to provide themselves with eggs, they were regarded with side-long glances, but they seemed to carry no terror with them. In many places the shores are covered with these birds, and three hundred have been taken within an hour; for they generally make no effort to escape, but stand quietly by whilst their companions are knocked down with sticks, till it comes to their turn.

The rookeries are described as designed with the utmost order and regularity, though they are the resort of several different species. A regular camp, often covering three or four acres, is laid out and levelled, and the ground disposed in squares for the nests, as accurately as if a surveyor had been employed. Their marchings and countermarchings are said to remind the observer of the manœuvres of soldiers on parade. In the midst of this apparent order there appears to be not very good government, for the stronger species steal the eggs of the weaker if they are left unguarded; and the King Penguin is the greatest thief of all. Three species are found in the Falkland Islands. Two, the Kings and the Macaroni, deposit their eggs in these rookeries. The Jackass, which is the third, obtained its English name from its brayings at night. It makes its nests in burrows on downs and sandy plains; and Forster describes the ground as everywhere so much bored, that a person, in walking, often sinks up to the knees; and if the Penguin chance to be in her hole, she revenges herself on the passenger by fastening on his legs, which she bites very hard.

But these rookeries are insignificant when compared with a settlement of King Penguins, which Mr. G. Bennett saw at the north end of Macquarrie Island, in the South Pacific Ocean—a colony of these birds, which covered some thirty or forty acres. Here, during the whole of the day and night, 30,000 or 40,000 Penguins are continually landing, and an equal number going to sea. They are ranged, when on shore, in as regular ranks as a regiment of soldiers, and are classed, the young birds in one situation, the moulting birds in another, the sitting hens in a third, the clean birds in a fourth, &c.; and so strictly do birds in a similar condition congregate, that, should a moulting bird intrude itself among those which are clean, it is immediately ejected from them. The females, if approached during incubation, move away, carrying their eggs with them. At this time the male bird goes to sea, and collects food for the female, which becomes very fat.

Captain Fitzroy describes, at Noir Island, multitudes of Penguins swarming among the bushes and tussac-grass near the shore, for moulting and rearing their young. They were very valiant in self-defence, and ran open-mouthed by dozens at any one who invaded their territory. The manner of feeding their young is amusing. The old bird gets on a little eminence and makes a loud noise, between quacking and braying, holding its head up as if haranguing the Penguinnery, the young one standing close to it, but a little lower. The old bird then puts down its head, and opens its mouth widely, into which the young one thrusts its head, and then appears to suck from the throat of its mother; after which the clatter is repeated, and the young one is again fed: this continues for about ten minutes.

Mr. Darwin, having placed himself between a Penguin, on the Falkland Islands, and the water, was much amused by watching its habits. "It was a brown bird," says Mr. Darwin, "and, till reaching the sea, it regularly fought and drove me backwards. Nothing less than heavy blows would have stopped him: every inch gained, he firmly kept standing close before me, erect and determined. When thus opposed, he continually rolled his head from side to side in a very odd manner. While at sea, and undisturbed, this bird's note is very deep and solemn, and is often heard in the night time. In diving, its little plumeless wings are used as fins, but on the land as front legs. When crawling (it may be said on four legs) through the tussacks, or on the side of a grassy cliff, it moved so very quickly that it might readily have been mistaken for a quadruped. When at sea, and fishing, it comes to the surface for the purpose of breathing with such a spring, and dives again so instantaneously, that I defy any one, at first sight, to be sure that it is not a fish leaping for sport."