BIRDS OF THE AUSTRALASIAN SOUTH POLAR QUADRANT. 
As we neared Cape Adare, we had Adelie Penguins in the water all around 
us, birds by hundreds dashing in and out like little dolphins, making very 
rapid travelling through the water, shooting into the air with heads drawn 
in and wings appressed, just clearing the water by a foot for a yard or more, 
and then with the slightest little splash. When first seen, they may easily 
be mistaken for a school of fish. Under the water, they wing their way with 
powerful strokes, often in a zig-zag course, especially if frightened, as a means, 
often no doubt, of baffling the seals and killer whales that are their terror. 
The feet and tail in this method of progression are used for steering only, but if 
the bird is at the surface, floating, as he does, low in the water, instead of the 
wings the feet will be used for propelling. 
In landing on a shelving shore, the bird merely swims till he can stand 
upright and walk, hut in landing from deep water on an ice-floe with its edge 
a foot or two above the w r ater, he leaps like a salmon, with this difference, that 
instead of allowing his body to follow the curve of motion, he preserves the 
vertical position and lands upon his feet, immediately manning a few paces or 
falling sometimes on his breast; and in this landing leap the stiff tail-feathers 
must be of use in preventing any tendency to fall backwards. 
Three feet is a good leap, though their powers are not often put to 
such a test. In leaping from floe to floe across a crack of open water they 
show no great athletic capabilities, and in crossing six inches or a foot, which 
is about as much as they ever dare attempt, their movements are exactly 
what one is wont to see if the same feat is performed by a child of three. 
If in their wanderings they come to a crack which is too wide to jump, 
and yet not wide enough for plunging into, they will follow the edge till 
they find a point more suited to their tastes ; but it takes much 
time and many hesitations before they decide the thing to be possible for 
either. 
Time, happily for them, is no object; but this at first sight one would 
hardly guess, their movements being always precise, busy and preoccupied. 
It is only "when one has watched a little party hurrying along for full half 
a mile in a direct line, as though upon some urgent business, suddenly stop 
and all go to sleep, or suddenly turn and go off in another direction, or 
come back upon some equally urgent call, that one begins to realise that 
their business is not always so important as it looks. 
On flat ice or snow they seem to prefer walking, balancing themselves 
with their flippers, and leaving between their footmarks a sinuous track 
made by the tail. If hurried or fatigued by soft snow they will fall on their 
breasts, the polished feathers of which form an excellent runner surface for 
toboganning. They then leave a track which takes the form of a straight 
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