FOOTLOOSE
Parade of fairy penguins
INDU BALACHANDRAN
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As the suns sets, a spectacular show unfolds every evening at Phillip Island.
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Amazing sight: Fairy Penguins returning home after a day out in the sea.
AN unlikely debutant hero recently pushed the new Bond Daniel Craig's blockbuster from its No. 1 box office ranking to a firm second place recently. The upstart: a little dancing penguin, the hero of the smash-hit animation film "Happy Feet".
That's why, after you too get to see the hugely successful "Happy Feet", and are hit by a craving to see real penguins... you'll be happy you don't have to freeze over in icebound Antarctica to do so. Head instead to Phillip Island, an enjoyable 90-minute drive away from Melbourne in Australia, to see the most astounding event that takes place every single evening at sunset... The Penguin Parade.
These are the remarkable "Fairy Penguins", or Little Penguins — the tiniest of all penguin species, exclusive to Australia and New Zealand. Drawing thousands of tourists from all over the world right through the year, these lovable creatures follow a fascinating ritual as they return home every night from the vast Indian Ocean. All of which can be viewed right up-close by humans without any disturbance to these quaint walking birds — thanks to some brilliant planning and strict enforcement of ground rules by Australian tourism.
On our holiday in Australia, we were met with the same response every time we mentioned that Phillip Island was part of our itinerary. "You're going to love it!" they'd exclaim, stopping short of telling us why, to enhance our expectation and ultimate surprise.
Surprises along the way
The drive to the beautiful beachside retreat, just 140 km from Melbourne, had some unexpected treats on route. Just past St. Kilda, we stopped at a wildlife park to see the next best thing to teddy bears — dozens of adorable furry koalas, almost camouflaged, clinging sleepily to eucalyptus trees. We heard they usually slept for over 20 hours a day, waking only to eat themselves into a heady stupor again.
One more halt at Nobby Point — to see several sea lions flopping about on rocks — and we were on the final stretch to the Penguin Show, even as the blue skies were just beginning to get tinged with twilight.
Passing through the entrance gates to a large viewers' gallery overlooking the beach, we were in for a complete shock. Hundreds and hundreds of tourists were already seated inside! It seemed to us that the entire population of Japan was definitely here. We were assured by the ushers that any place was a good place to sit in — with these grandstands built to accommodate even 4,000 people in peak season (December and January). All cameras have to be firmly locked away at the entrance itself — a strict adherance of the "no flashes" rule that might disturb the precious penguins, while the vigilant security staff were quick to confiscate hidden cameras from cheaters.
Showtime
With 15 minutes more to go before the scheduled sunset time for the day, we settled before the vast ocean shoreline, reading brochures with neatly drawn out maps to show us where we'd have to proceed to the wooden walkways — following the penguins once they came ashore. We read a quick background...
Every morning, hundreds of penguins would leave their homes, many leaving behind their little ones, (and if just newly hatched, a dutiful Papa to baby-sit), and set off to dive into the oceans, swimming far out, sometimes even 15 to 50 km into the ocean to feed. And exactly at sundown, they would all head back, each to his or her own sand dune burrow, plump with eating fish all day. A ritual that has happened in these beaches for thousands of years.
Suddenly, a great buzz of expectation spread around the stands, much like the charged atmosphere minutes before curtain time at a Broadway musical.
A shout went up from a group with hi-powered binoculars trained on the sea. Look! There! The Penguins!
Everybody involuntarily leapt up, families tugging impatiently at a shared pair of binoculars; hundreds of eyes straining towards the waves of the ocean hitting the shore.
Suddenly we all saw them too. The very first batch of tiny returning penguins, stoically riding the waves, and then being unceremoniously flung on the beach. A huge cheer went up from the stands. Perhaps every diehard tourist missed his camera then — as the first batch of four or five penguins scrambled to their feet in the sand, looking quite befuddled, even as fresh waves knocked them down again. The cheers swelled — as larger and larger batches began hitting the shoreline — sometimes even a dozen in a batch, and sometimes a lone penguin, rising bravely by all by himself, leading to a burst of laughter and applause. They hopped around in a confused huddle, flapping their wings and chattering incessantly till suddenly a "leader" emerged — as if he thought it was about time someone took charge — and started decisively leading the way forward. And like obedient little waiters following the major domo, the entire bunch started moving forward too, towards the green shrub-lined path leading towards their burrows and nests.
Amazing act
Excited groups of tourists began leaving the grandstand to rush towards the wooden broadwalks, built all along the Penguin Walk — to follow each batch of penguins as they searched for and found their own homes. We could hardly believe our eyes as we saw for ourselves, exactly what the brochures had told us — every evening, every penguin would return instinctively to its own nest, back to its little chicks, or back to Papa Penguin, patiently babysitting a just-born snuggling all day on his feet. Hungry beaks would immediately reach right into the bending parent penguin's mouth — eagerly pulling out fish food that was stored inside!
Meanwhile, bigger and bigger cheers from the grandstands lured us back to see even larger batches of homecoming birds. Sometimes a big cry of "oh no!" would go up, as a huge wave arriving on the shore fell on an unsuspecting gang still waddling about, finding a leader... sucking them right back into the ocean!
A quick dash back again to the penguin walkways rewarded us with thrilling incidents. A mother, guided by excited welcoming cries from her offspring (penguins can recognise their own particular baby's cry distinctly, apparently), stepped hesitantly at a burrow, decided this was not the one, and kept moving on, till with a squawk of delight she disappeared within a burrow. Dim lighting all along the walkway allowed us to follow their amazing homecoming, while ensuring that the lights in no way disturbed the little creatures. We could suddenly see why cameras were so strictly banned here: who'd want to confuse or blind these tiny dutiful parents with flashbulbs, as they raced to be home with their faithful mates and hungry babies? Shhhh! We'd say to one another even as someone would spontaneously cheer and break a self-imposed rule of staying quiet.
Heart-stopping
Suddenly we saw a sight that melted all our hearts. A lost baby chick had, in its enthusiasm to greet mom, emerged right out of its burrow, and was getting pushed and shoved by a flurry of adult feet rushing helter skelter down a path. As our collective anxiety increased, watching this drama, our lost hero seemed to spot a familiar face... A wild flap of baby wings... and we saw an adult penguin stop and lead it back right into their home! Perfect strangers beamed at each other, doing quiet hi-fives in joy.
All too soon, the spectacular show was nearing its end. The darkening skies led to an urgent frenzy amongst the last ones to return. But these latecomers may well have been the cautious ones — sometimes, we heard that predator birds swooped down on a well-fed juicy victim on the beach, and so some may have instinctively waited for nightfall to hide them. Dumbfounded, amazed and humbled by nature's drama, we stood for a moment in silence to take it all in...
As the smiling wardens firmly urged us to start going towards the Exit signs, our reluctant feet moved very slowly. Of course, it was impossible not to grab a delightful baby penguin each — the cuddly soft toy variety of course — in the inevitable gift shop attached. We'd fallen completely in love, and there was no doubting what our most favourite bird was going to be hereafter, after our charming encounter with these tuxedo-clad birds at Phillip Island.
Quickfacts
Getting there: Phillip Island is only 140 km from Melbourne,
Australia. A 90-minute drive by car.
Best time: Open all year round. December to February may be less cold, but windcheaters recommended.
Where to stay: After the sunset parade viewing, stay overnight at Cowes, and catch other sights enroute to Melbourne.
Other attractions: See Koalas face-to-face at Koala Conservation
Centre. Also sea lions and other wildlife in Wildlife Wonderland.
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