It was a warm, sunny day on Robben Island. Pieter the penguin was lazing on the beach, his eyes half closed and his belly full of fish. Occasionally, in the time-honoured tradition, he would nonchalantly lean across to peck a passing juvenile penguin. Some of the penguins began to move up the beach towards their nesting areas. Pieter wasn't nesting yet, but he decided to go with them and perhaps spend the night doing some serious braying.

As the penguins moved across the dirt road, Pieter couldn't help but notice an air of tension. Some of the penguins stopped, glancing around furtively. Pieter wasn't quite sure what it was ... and then he saw them. Biologists! In torn T-shirts, jeans, leather gloves and gum boots, they looked a mean gang of desperadoes.

The penguins made for the nearest cover, piling underneath the Rooikrans. They jostled for position and tempers became frayed. Pieter's neighbour nervously pecked him on the back of his head. Pieter moved away to be greeted in similar fashion by his neighbour on the other side. Meanwhile, they were being surrounded - the biologists closed in. Suddenly, Pieter felt a firm grip behind his head and around his feet, and a moment later he was doing something penguins aren't supposed to do - he was flying! He didn't seem to have much control over where he was going, but the ground was a couple of metres below him. He had visions of gracefully circling the island.

Unfortunately, his maiden flight looked destined to end in a plastic crate a few metres away. There were already a few penguins inside the crate and they raised their bills in readiness to greet him! Clonk! Down came the lid. Then the lid opened and daylight returned again. A penguin was removed from the crate and down came the lid once again. Minutes later the lid opened and another penguin was removed. They never came back! Then it was Pieter's turn.

Again, he was airborne, but this time very briefly. It would seem he had been summoned to the leader of the biologists, who wore his full regalia of bright-green oilskins, black rubber gloves and white gum boots. Pieter gulped; his life flashed before his eyes. What was coming next? His mother had never told him about this. Well, without going into details, with the aid of a plastic funnel and tube, a beaker of water and a bucket, Pieter and his food parted company.

Pieter last saw his meal being sealed up in a plastic bag, ready for analysis. Then the grip on his head and legs was released. He was free. He turned to bite the hand that released him, then ran as fast as his feet and flippers would carry him. Too late, he realized that his escape route was about to take him under a bush and past a nesting penguin. The irate bird gave Pieter a good pecking as he ran past.

Pieter stood under the bush for a while to calm his nerves and reflect upon his ordeal. It simply hadn't been his day! Eventually, he fell asleep and had a strange dream. He was one of a small group of giant penguins who had caught a biologist. Two of the huge Sphenisciiformes were dangling the biologist upside down over a bucket into which he duly deposited his lunch. 'There you are ...' exclaimed one of the penguins, '... we must be having an adverse effect on their natural food resources. Every sample is just full of beans and viennas!'

Pieter awoke. Dawn was breaking and the sun was slowly creeping above Bloubergstrand. His empty tum told Pieter that it was time to go back to sea. Hopefully today would be an uneventful one: just another day in paradise!

Jack S. Penguin and Albert Ross

Originally published in Bird Numbers, October 1996.
© Avian Demography Unit, UCT.