Part I: Seals teeth and whales ears - Scott Polar Research Institute ...

As a result of the prevailing low temperatures the bay was now covered with
young ice about an inch thick with a ‘moat’ of open water about 6-8 ft wide round
most of the coast line. There were groups of penguins in the pack, chiefly gentoo
with a few chinstraps and on the bay ice was one party of about 50 chinstrap and
gentoo. Their combined weight was too much and when they changed from file to
‘form three's’ about half the party - comically - fell through the ice, then reappeared
in an open lead off Berntsen Point. I was surprised that I had seen virtually no Adélie
penguins.
Around the carcass of a Weddell seal many sheathbills and giant petrels had
gathered. When approached the giants ‘threw-up’ lumps of blubber, ran a few yards
and unburdened their stomachs further. They usually ended a grotesque flapping
run by crashing through the ice. Compare this behaviour with that of the
unperturbable sheathbill; it just stands back and nips in again as soon as one's back is
turned. All the blubber was gone from the seal’s body and some of the meat. I
watched a skua terrorizing the other birds, causing them to vomit and eating the
scraps of blubber they ejected.
The sheathbills, numbering up to 30 were cleaning the Weddell skull and skin.
They were most amusing to watch and had a pecking order like chickens; when two
evenly matched birds squabbled they stood on tip toe and hustled each other, breasts
expanded, throats puffed out, like pigeons, with wings raised and used to whack an
opponent. A Dalmatian plumaged giant petrel came along and chased off the
sheathbills while it fed, but then flew away as soon as we approached, whereupon
the imperturbable paddies came into possession again.
22 April was an idyllic ‘dingle’ day with several leads through the pack and the
water mirror-calm, reflecting the luminous blue sky, and glass-clear. Penguins were
wandering about on the ice and swimming in the open leads. I watched a group fall
into a lead when the ice they stood on collapsed; the proportion of gentoo and
chinstrap was roughly 15:1. The usual other birds were about, but we had seen no
Wilson's petrels for a week.
One night I went for a walk and was out for an hour. Fully half the time I was
sitting on a rock at the foot of the ‘second step’ on the ridge behind, while snowies
flew about like wraiths, sometimes landing beside me - one at a nesting hole barely a
foot from my side. The moon was bright and surrounded by the most brilliant lunar
halo I had ever seen. A pair of snowies would materialize from the shadows and
flutter across it, shining for a moment with a brilliance that seemed to come from
within them, before flashing on across the crag. From the nesting holes in the crag
behind me came the chattering of some pairs, which separated from the flighting
birds. At first sound harsh, their chattering was really quite melodious and grew on
one.
By the end of April snowies were abundant on every rocky slope, keeping up an
incessant chatter; but by then there were no Cape pigeons. I went ringing them one
afternoon but only captured one pair, which I cornered at its nest hole. All the others
flew away when I approached. Clearly ringing was best done at the nest in the
breeding season. I went out again at 10.30 pm to ring some more but without success
as they could see me better than I them, and it was a little dangerous clambering
around the cliffs after dark. I was liberally covered with giant petrel oil, when I
stepped too close to a nestling that I hadn't seen. The snowies can nip quite hard if
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