Half Moon Island: It’s All About the Chinnies

Monday, 12 January 2015 (Part II)
At Sea — Bransfield Strait
Position @ Half Moon Island: 63° 25’ S / 59° 54’ W

I’ve already written about our day (post here).  This will be a ‘plog’ (photo log)  of the first of two landings we made in the South Shetland Islands, an archipelago that lies off the tip of the Antarctic Peninsula.

Some websites refer to Half Moon Island, where we had our morning activity, as a minor island.  I’d say it’s anything but … except perhaps as it relates in size to the other islands in the archipelago.  Of course, my impressions may have been ‘slightly colored’ by all the chinstrap penguins — chinnies, if you will — that we found nesting here ;-)  The Antarctic Treaty Visitor Site Guide has more information specific to the landing site.

We land on the right side at the top of the island; walk through the pass on a meandering
walk, and go to the primary landing site to re-embark the zodiacs for the ride back to Ortelius.

Newbies to Antarctica and zodiac landings got a crash course this morning on what sea conditions can be like.  When Ortelius arrived on site, the ship anchored in open waters instead of Menguante Cove.  We were taxied to the landing site through rather choppy seas.  The beach we arrived at was a rocky one, which made for slippery footing disembarking into calf-high waters, while at the same time fighting the pull and drag of the waves washing ashore.  Expedition team members were on hand to give us a steadying hand, so all went well and no one got dunked in the icy waters.

Not the smoothest conditions for our first landing of this expedition.
If I’ve got my bearings right, we’re looking at Livingston Island.

Once ashore, we removed our life vests.  Next, we gathered around Don to get our marching orders … where to go, and where not to; what to do, and what not to do.  The tern and kelp gull nesting sites were off-limits, as was a chinstrap breeding site and the scree slopes where Wilson’s storm petrels burrowed to nest.  Even with the restrictions, there were a lot of areas where we were free to wander, so after leaving our backpacks near the life vest pile, off we went to explore this new-to-us island.

A lichen-covered rock adds a bit of color to an otherwise B&W landscape.

It was all about the chinnies here.  There was a frenzy of activity as they pitter-pattered or tobogganed their way to the beach to go foraging in the food-rich waters.  Those returning to land set a frenetic pace in their haste to get to their nests to relieve partners standing guard over chicks, many of which were well hidden … although a few of them did show themselves.  We were so enthralled with the penguins that we never did make it to the seal haul-out on the far side of the island.  Later, we learned that there was only one seal by the time most of the passengers got to the haul-out.  We’ll see plenty of seals on this expedition, so I’m glad we didn’t make the long trek through the snow for little reward.

Breathtaking!

For the most part, wandering around was easy despite the snow.  Some of the slopes were icy with packed snow, but Mui and I managed to find ways around the slippery patches.  When we reached the crest of the small hill, we did find ourselves in some soft, knee-deep snow that made the going a little tough, but we managed fine by taking it slow and easy.  The biggest challenge was keeping our distance from the chinnies who were actively traveling the ‘penguin highway’.  We followed the flagged-path laid out by the expedition team, and gave the chinnies the right of way; but didn’t otherwise worry too much as long as they were the ones initiating contact … not the other way around.

Snowy Sheathbill — usually found on the ground, it’s considered the
only land bird native to Antarctica — except for the penguins, of course.

This is a ‘plog’ so let’s get to the bulk of the photos …

Squabbling … with an audience!

Let’s go for a refreshing dip, shall we?

A white chest means the Chinnie is returning from foraging at sea and is
on the way back to the nest to relieve its mate and feed the chick(s).  …

… A dirty chest means the opposite, of course.

Visitors?  Perhaps — these two gentoos are the only ones we encounter on Half Moon.

Remind me why I built my nest at the top of the hill?

Off to work we go, we go!

Chinnies stretch their bodies, raise their heads to the sky, and call in a behavior
that is known as an ecstatic display.  This behavior can serve a variety of
purposes, not the least of which is showing off to a potential mate ;-)

View of a chinnie breeding colony from the crest of the hill.
You don't believe that there is a colony there? ...

From this vantage point, you can see the landing beach (right); choppy waters.
We will be using the beach on the left to embark the zodiacs from calmer waters.

... here's a zoomed in look at the colony.

Can you find the chicks?  There are several grey fluff-balls …

… including this one that the parent is getting ready to feed.

This is a breeding colony, so there’s bound to be some mating activity ;-)

The black chin-line consists of a thin row of black feathers.

Going through the pass between the restricted areas, I start tracking an Antarctic Tern. …

… When it reaches this rocky outcropping, it descends to …

… feed chicks hidden in a crevice while its partner keeps watch for intruders.
That it is not even looking in my direction means the bird is comfortable with
my presence … I am keeping my distance, so it doesn’t see me as a threat.

A chinnie gives a passing snowy sheathbill the evil eye.  No wonder; as opportunistic feeders,
sheathbills will take chicks or eggs from penguin nests if the opportunity presents itself.

Traveling the penguin highway!

Nesting sure is dirty business!

Note the red flag that marks our path along the penguin highway.

If I’ve got my bearings right, we’re looking at Greenwich Island in this panorama shot.

Glacier-covered dramatic landscapes — that’s what we’re here to see …
in addition to penguins and other wildlife, of course.

When our allotted time for the landing was up, we started to reluctantly head back to the landing beach.  That’s when we ran into Rolf, who told us we would be embarking the zodiacs from a beach inside the sheltered harbor.  “The expedition team will transport your backpacks if you left them by the life vests,” he told us.  Rather than chance it, however, Mui decided to head back and get the bags himself.  I made my way to the embarkation beach, where I dallied on shore, while I waited for Mui to join me.

Have to wonder what goes through the minds of those penguins when they see the zodiacs
and all the colorfully-decked out people getting in and out of them?  That they could care
less about our presence seems obvious since they just stand around watching the action.

Could I have gone back to the ship instead of waiting for Mui?  Sure; we’re not joined at the hip.  Zodiacs stand by at the landing site to take people back whenever they are ready to return to the mother vessel.  I wasn’t; I never am … not until I absolutely have to ;-)

Some passengers are ready to return to the ship earlier than others …
I’ll wait for the last zodiac — or darn near as I can push it — thank you very much.

The only thing that made the departure from Half Moon Island palatable was knowing we would be transiting through beautiful Antarctic icescape on our way to the afternoon landing site.

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