THE ADELIE PENGUIN. 39 



the crustaceans which literally swarm amid the icefloes, probably because of the 

 abundance of diatomaceous refuse in the melting and discoloured ice. Here, too, they 

 may confidently trust to a foothold which will last them while they moult their 

 feathers in the autumn, when for a fortnight they are bound to avoid the water, and 

 sit disconsolately fasting in little knots under the lee of one of the larger hummocks. 



As we entered open water from the southern limit of the pack, and came in sight 

 of the cliffs of Cape Adare, the numbers of adult Adelies rapidly increased and no 

 more were seen in the plumage of immaturity. 



It were well that the zoologist should realise the necessity of seizing every 

 opportunity as it offers, for the entry to the Antarctic through the belt of pack ice may 

 be his one and only chance of making a representative collection of Antarctic animals. 

 He will have much cause for thankfulness at every day's delay in passing through it. 

 Once through, he will as likely as not (and this was our own experience) see little 

 or nothing more of Lobodon, Stenorhinchus, or Ommatophoca amongst the seals, or of 

 mmature Adelies and immature Emperor Penguins, of Priocella glacialoides, Priori, or 

 Halobcena amongst the birds. He may see Pagodroma, Thalassceca, and Oceanites 

 again in numbers, but he may never have so good an opportunity of their close 

 observance, or such a chance of adding them to his collections. The pack ice is the 

 place par excellence for close contact with many Antarctic birds and seals, as well as 

 whales and dolphins. Once through the pack, and to my sorrow we were through 

 it in less than seven days, there may be no further opportunity, for on the homeward 

 voyage in February or March no pack ice may be seen, or if seen, it will be in small 

 detached and drifting masses which may be traversed without meeting any sign of life. 



The spring pack is the Antarctic hunting-ground, and every hour spent there 

 will bring a rich reward to the naturalist. He may for days together postpone the 

 removal of his clothes, and sleep in snatches when he can, for night and day he will 

 be summoned to the bridge to take notice of some new bird or group of seals. 

 There away on the port bow will be a black object lying on the ice. Is it a Boss' 

 seal, or only another Lobodon ? If the former, the ship's course may be altered, but 

 if not, then " as you were " until another bunch of six or eight Lobodon seals turns up, 

 as happens sometimes twice in the day. The naturalist must decide, and in settling 

 through the glasses whether the seal is a Ross, a Crab-eater, or a gaunt Sea Leopard, 

 he will find exercise for his powers of diagnosis, which will be surely and sufficiently 

 criticised at the next meal below if a mile or two of southing has been lost for the sake 

 of an imaginary Ross. Let him, therefore, who sees a bird, or a change of plumage, 

 whether of moult or immaturity, take it while it offers, the more carefully if he thinks 

 he is sure to have another and a better opportunity later on. In nine cases out of ten 

 the regret will come without the opportunity, and in working out his problems, this or 

 that clue which was one day well within his grasp will almost certainly be missing. 

 With this warning, the result of personal experience, I must proceed to detail more 

 fully the history of the bird now under consideration. 



