Year of the emperor - article on the lifestyle of the emperor penguin which resides in Antarctica

Ranger Rick, Dec, 1996 by Ellen Lambeth

Brrrr! Did you catch that photo on pages 2 and 3? You may wonder how anything could live in a place like that. But as you can see, emperor penguins do. Their home is at the very bottom of the world--in Antarctica (see map above).

The land there is covered by a thick icy crust. In the middle of winter, it's dark as night all day long. Bitter winds blow, and temperatures drop to 70F below zero (57C). Even in summer, the temperature almost never gets above freezing, and a blizzard is not out of the ordinary. Get the picture?

BACKWARD BIRDS

When you think of animals having babies, you probably think of spring or sum- mer. But when you think of emperor penguins, you'd better think again: They're just the opposite. These birds start family life in the fall, when the bitter winter is just around the corner.

At the bottom of the world, fall begins in March, just when we're getting ready for spring. Days become darker and colder. And the sea starts to freeze over, forming a huge sheet of ice for miles out from land.

The penguins have been eating heartily in the ocean waters all summer, gob- bling down krill (tiny shrimplike creatures), squid, and fish. But now they march inland across the frozen sea--maybe more than 100 miles (160 km).

Sooner or later the birds clump together in colonies, often by the thousands. Males and females waddle and bow and sing to each other. Then they mate. Finally, as winter settles in around May or June, the most incredible story begins.

DARK DEEP-FREEZE

Each female penguin lays a single egg. Very, very carefully, her mate pulls the egg onto his feet with his bill. He quickly tucks it under a toasty-warm flap of bare skin--called a brood patch--on his belly. If the egg stays on the ice or in the cold air very long, it will freeze.

After the egg is safely handed over to Dad, Mom makes the long trip back to the sea to fill up on food again. Dad is left behind, in total charge of the fragile package cradled on his feet. He'll have to wait like that until Mom returns. And it's a wait that goes on and on.

Think what it must be like for dear ol' Dad: It's dark all the time. He has nothing to eat. He can shuffle around but can't really go anywhere. He's sur- rounded by ice and blowing snow. And he's stuck like this for about two months. All he can do is keep that egg warm and huddle with the other dads to keep himself warm. It has to be the world's worst babysitting job! It's a good thing the birds are built for it.

FIT, FAT, AND WELL FEATHERED

Although winter seems a crazy time to lay eggs, it works for emperors. For one thing, the birds are still plump from feeding all summer. A thick layer of fat helps keep each bird warm through the winter.

Being big helps too. Emperors are the world's largest penguins. (An adult may stand 4 feet [1.2 m]--about as tall as a 7-year-old kid.) Usually, big animals don't lose heat as quickly as small ones. That makes it easier for them to stay warm.

Emperors also wear the warmest coats around. Each bird's body is covered with tightly packed, overlapping feathers--about 80 per square inch. These keep out the harsh wind and bitter-cold air. (They also keep out icy water when the bird swims.) Underneath the top feathers is a layer of soft, fluffy down to hold in body heat.

CRA-A-ACKKK--THEY'RE HERE!

Finally, in the dead of winter (around July), the chicks pop out into their cold, dark world. Each hatches with only a thin coat of fuzz. So it must stay in that warm spot on its dad's feet.

By now, the dads haven't eaten for about three months. They've been living off their own body fat and may have already lost up to half their weight. They're more than ready for the moms to come back and take over babysitting for a while.

Luckily, just about that time, the moms start returning with full bellies. Each chick moves over to its mom's feet, so its dad can head for a feast in the sea. Now and then, a chick peeks out and whistles for food. Mom regurgitates (ree-GUR-jih-tates), or brings up, some partly digested stuff from her crop--a food-storage place in her throat.

The parents trade places more often now to tend their growing chick. While one is off feeding at sea, the other is keeping the baby warm and well fed. The parents form long lines going back and forth across the frozen sea to reach open water--and to find food.

GROW UP, FUZZBALL!

By September, it's starting to look and feel like springtime. The days stay light longer. The sun warms the air up a bit. The emperor chicks have put on a thicker, fluffier coat, so they don't have to sit on their parents' feet anymore. They were getting too big for that anyway!

Pretty soon, they're old enough to be left alone between feedings. While both parents are off getting food, the chicks gather in a big group called a creche (KRESH).

You might think it would be hard for a penguin parent to find its chick in a crowd of look-alikes. But each parent knows the sound of its own chick's call. And the chick knows both parents' calls too. That's how they get together after the parents come back from their fishing trips. They keep calling and listening until they finally find each other (see pages 24 and 25).