Sandfly Bay,
Otago Peninsula, South Island, New
Zealand
From where we parked the
campervan it was a 45 minute walk to the beach, so we left
ourselves plenty of time to get there before the
yellow-eyed penguins surfed ashore. They would return at
dusk to their nests on the hillside after spending the day
feeding in the Pacific.
The
sandy trail down to the beach crossed numerous fences
designed to keep out dogs. Man's best friend is one of the
penguins' biggest enemies. The New Zealanders take wildlife
conservation seriously: signs stated that thus was a
wildlife refuge and thus dogs would be shot on
sight.
The
beach was a beautiful, broad and sandy one, the tide was
low and we quickly founded the "hide" up on a grassy dune
above the beach. It was a low wooden shack with a slit
window facing the beach. As the penguins wouldn't see us on
the beach, they would now come ashore. Out beyond the
breakers a group awaited the right wave to surf in on. They
came in alone or in small groups of just a few surfing on
their bellies until the wave dropped them on the
sand.
Then
with much aplomb they got to their feet and stiffly walked
up the beach towards the hillside that was home. As these
were the first wild penguins that either Rose or I had ever
seen, we watched their every move in the gathering
darkness.
Finally
it became just too dark to see and with our flashlights we
found the trail back up the hill to the camper. I have
always loved the experience of being in the out-of-doors as
the dusk turns to darkness. It seems to help center my mind
upon the importance of the natural world in my world. This
evening our thoughts were filled with the sight of the
penguins coming home.
Returning
to the camper, we drove the gravel roads back to our
campsite listening to a few carols on the radio. It was now
nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, 1993.