Pieter's musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside the burrow. He sighed and braced himself for the regulation show of defiance against the intruder. However, there was a soft 'plop' from above the burrow and the footsteps faded away again. After a few minutes, Pieter emerged cautiously from the burrow to investigate. Next to the burrow entrance was a small pile of papers. The top page began: 'Recent research by the Avian Demography Unit suggests that African Penguins wander far more widely than was previously realized. . . . ' 'Right,' thought Pieter, 'I'm off on me hols! Let's see; feather-tan lotion, "shades", beak-brush. Reckon that should do it. The question is, which way to go?' He ambled down to the shore. 'Eeny, meeny, miny . . . .' Pieter slipped into the water, stuck out a left flipper and proceeded southwards.

He swam alongside the Cape Peninsula, eventually rounding Cape Point, and made his way into False Bay. After a while, he noticed a collection of penguins around a rocky shore below some large buildings. He emerged from the water and wandered up a sandy beach.. A rather neat-looking penguin approached him, sporting a double black breast band. 'Excuse me sir, do you have a tie?', asked the penguin. 'A what?' replied Pieter, somewhat surprised. 'A tie, sir' the penguin repeated. 'We don't allow anyone into the colony without a tie, you know. This is the Boulders Penguin Colony and we don't take in any old riff-raff!'. Pieter was about to remonstrate when his gaze fell upon two large wooden structures at either end of the beach. He couldn't help but notice that they seemed to be packed with, what looked like to him, biologists. He'd only encountered them in ones and twos before, but here was a massive flock of them! 'Look out, biologists!' he yelled. 'I beg your pardon?' asked the smart-looking penguin. 'Biologists!' repeated Pieter, ' 'Undreds of 'em, run for it!' At which point he sped seawards on feet and flippers and before you could say Spheniscus de . . . 'sploosh', he was in the water and swimming for all he was worth. The smart-looking penguin straightened his plumage. 'Strange fellow' he thought, 'Oh well, I had better get back to looking cute for the tourists.'

Pieter found himself heading back towards Cape Point, and by the following day he was nearing Robben Island again. 'What now?' he thought. 'North, I suppose.' And he continued swimming along the West Coast. By afternoon the next day, he had the red-and-white tower of Dassen Island's lighthouse in view. 'Dassen, of course - the place to be seen!' he thought, and swam into House Bay and onto the beach. And there they all were. The penguin 'jet-set', 'hanging out' on the island's sandy beaches, flashing more expensive-looking flipper-bands around than you could poke a stick at. Pieter glanced proudly towards his flipper and his own shiny status symbol, kindly given to him as a memento of his visit to SANCCOB. Pieter lazed away the rest of the afternoon on the beach, ordering one sardine and anchovy cocktail after the next. As the sun began to sink, he wandered inland to look for a place to stay. Well this had to be the West Coast Hilton - they seemed to have more burrows than a rabbit warren! Pieter wandered into a choice-looking burrow with a sea view and settled in.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his rear quarters. He tried to move away but something was holding him back. He summoned up all his strength and managed to drag himself towards the burrow entrance and halfway into the open. At which point, he discovered the source of the pain: another penguin had its bill firmly clamped around Pieter's backside. Worse was to follow. As Pieter tried again to pull away, his assailant decided to play the drums on Pieter's flanks with his flippers. After much tumbling around and biting and 'flippering', Pieter finally broke free. 'Find yer own burrow!' his assailant yelled after him. 'Welcome to Dassen Island . . . .' thought Pieter.

Pieter hoped that no other penguins had noticed his undignified exit and wandered deeper into the vegetation. At a small clearing, he found an older, male penguin sitting outside a burrow. 'Er, evening' said Pieter. 'Evenin' matey' replied the older penguin. 'You, er, local are you?' asked Pieter. 'Yeah mate. Me an' the missus been 'ere for fifteen years now. I was born in that burrow there, mate.' He indicated the burrow with a sideways motion of the head. 'You new 'ere are yer?' 'Just visiting', said Pieter. 'Well, welcome to Dassen, mate' said his companion. 'You got a place to stay yet?' 'Not yet' said Pieter, glancing towards the throbbing lump on his hind quarters. 'Can you recommend anywhere?' 'You can 'ave the spare burrow if you want, mate. I ain't using it much at the moment, apart from gettin' away from the missus for forty winks in the afternoon.' 'Well, if you're sure it's OK,' said Pieter. 'Yeah, it's no problem, mate. Course yer'll 'ave to excuse the mess. Aint cleaned it out for a while. I'll show yer.' The older penguin rose gingerly to his feet and waddled across the clearing towards a rather run-down looking burrow. As Pieter followed, a large shadow crossed the ground and he felt a draft over his head. 'Yeeeeeooow!'. Pieter ducked and then looked upwards at the large bird which had almost hit his head. 'What on earth was that?' he asked nervously. 'Oh, sorry, forgot to warn yer 'bout the Kelp Gull.' Meanwhile the gull was banking and zeroing in for the next attack. Pieter ducked again. 'Yeeeeeeooowww!' ''E's got a nest just past the burrow,' explained the older penguin. 'Watch yer nut, 'cos 'e can give yer a nasty whack if yer not careful.'

Pieter kept his eyes on the irate gull, tripping over a Tetragonia plant as he did so. 'There you go, mate. Make yerself at 'ome.' 'Thanks very much,' said Pieter and wandered inside the burrow. There wasn't much room, owing to the amount of accumulated junk. Pieter's quick look around revealed a beer bottle, two plastic drink containers, assorted rocks, a small wheel, a large bone and a wooden stake with 'G38' inscribed upon it (later to be identified by the island's researcher as a long-lost nest marker). Pieter squeezed himself in amongst the 'treasure trove' as best he could and eventually dozed off.

Come the morning, he decided to make his way down to the beach again, attempting to dodge his airborne neighbour as he did so. 'Yeeeeoooww!' screeched from above. Splat! Pieter felt a warm, wet sensation on his left flipper and got a whiff of the unmistakable aroma of part-digested mussel. Finally, Pieter reached the beach without further incident and approached the sea for a morning dip. As he did so, two penguins approached him. 'Morning' said one. 'Er, morning' replied Pieter. 'We noticed you having a problem with the gull.' said the other. 'Well, nothing I can't handle,' said Pieter, trying to hide his left flipper behind his back. 'Perhaps you might consider joining our organization,' said the first penguin. 'What organization is that?' asked Pieter. 'PAGADS' said the second penguin. 'What's PAGADS?' asked Pieter. 'Penguins Against Gulls and Diet Sampling' said the first penguin. 'Um, I'll think about it,' said Pieter and slipped into the waters of House Bay. 'Who needs a holiday, anyway,' he thought, and set course for home.

Elie and Nora Svalkon
Raptours Ltd

Originally published in Bird Numbers, December 1999.
© Avian Demography Unit, UCT.