Chap, v.] PENGUIN ROOKERY. IO3 



from their feet, forming a broad track, leading to a lane in the 

 tall grass about a yard wide at the bottom, and quite bare, with 

 a smoothly beaten black roadway ; this was the entrance to the 

 main street of this part of the " rookery," for so these penguin 

 establishments are called. 



Other smaller roads led at intervals into the rookery to the 

 nests near its border, but the main street was used by the 

 majority of birds. The birds took little notice of us, allowing 

 us to stand close by, and even to form ourselves into a group 

 for the photographer, in which they were included. 



This kind of penguin is called by the whalers and sealers 

 " rock-hopper," from its curious mode of progression. The 

 birds hop from rock to rock with both feet placed together, 

 scarcely ever missing their footing. When chased, they blunder 

 and fall amongst the stones, struggling their best to make off. 



With one of the Germans as guide, I entered the main 

 street. As soon as we were in it, the grass being above our 

 heads, one was as if in a maze, and could not see in the least 

 where one was going to. Various lateral streets lead off on 

 each side from the main road, and are often at their mouths 

 as big as it, moreover, the road sometimes divides for a little 

 and joins again : hence it is the easiest thing in the world to 

 lose one's way, and one is quite certain to do so when in- 

 experienced in penguin rookeries. The German, however, 

 who was our guide on our first visit, accustomed to pass 

 through the place constantly for two years, was perfectly well 

 at home in the rookery and knew every street and turning. 



It is impossible to conceive the discomfort of making one's 

 way through a big rookery, haphazard, or "across country " as 

 one may say. I crossed the large one here twice afterwards with 

 the seamen carrying my basket and vasculum, and afterward 

 went through a larger rookery still, at Nightingales Island. 



You plunge into one of the lanes in the tall grass which at 

 once shuts out the surroundings from your view. You tread 

 on a slimy black damp soil composed of the birds' dung. The 

 stench is overpowering, the yelling of the birds perfectly terri- 

 fying; I can call it nothing else. You lose the path, or 

 perhaps are bent from the first in making direct for some spot 

 on the other side of the rookery. 



In the path only a few droves of penguins, on their way to 

 and from the water, are encountered, and these stampede out 

 of your way into the side alleys. Now you are, the instant 

 you leave the road, on the actual breeding ground. The nests 

 are placed so thickly that you cannot help treading on eggs 

 and young birds at almost every step. 



A parent bird sits on each nest, with its sharp beak erect 



