Chapter 4
The next day was absolutely gorgeous. The sky was clear, the sun shining brightly, and the temperature somewhere around five degrees. Really toasty.
There was a fair amount of floating ice chunks in the waters which made it slow going for our Zodiac.
We had a lot of costly equipment with us, so I was glad Sam was driving extra cautiously.
Our destination was Humble Island, a much smaller Adélie colony than the more famous one nearby, which was precisely why I had chosen it for my field study.
Adrien and Grant were dropping us off so they could take the Zodiac back to the station.
After an hour of bobbing on the choppy waters we finally drew close to the island.
The sound of penguins chattering all around was the sweetest melody to my ears.
I had been right. This week was going to fix my mood, because I loved these birds more than anything else.
With their googly, funny eyes they were such an adorable and dorky-looking species.
Who doesn’t grow up loving penguins? They were probably the quintessential and universally loved bird, and the fact that I had gotten to become a penguinologist was the best thing ever.
Adrien scrunched up his face and groaned. “Ughhh.”
I grinned. “That is the famous guano gravy stench.”
“Holy hell.” Adrien covered his nose. “I did not think penguins — these cute penguins — could create such a mess.”
“Oh, you are going to fall in love with it. And when you go back home you are going to miss it.” I paused for effect.
“The best way to recreate the experience at home is to take some old cigarette tobacco, soak it in ammonia, mix in some rotten shrimp, and let it sit in the sun for a few days. Then take a whiff.”
Grant punched me in the shoulder and laughed. “Get off the boat so I can take Adrien back away from this shit soup.”
Sam and I carried our gear onto the rocky surface of the island. The unique smell of bird droppings and krill carcasses was everywhere. The first time I had encountered it I had almost gagged, but now it was second nature to me.
I waved at Grant and Adrien as they took the Zodiac back to the station.
Once the boat was a tiny dot bobbing away, I started trekking toward the spot where we had come earlier in the season and set up the research tent.
It was a bright yellow color, easily visible even in the worst blizzard.
It was installed on top of a sturdy wooden plank that served as the floor, and on top of that we had a couple of layers of insulated bedding to make it as comfortable as possible to sleep inside.
Once the tent was all zipped up, body heat and a tiny kettle boiling water created enough warmth that sometimes it could actually get hot enough that you had to step outside to cool down.
People didn’t believe me, but it was remarkable how comfortable it could become — especially given how pleasant the weather was outside.
“Wait.”
I was suddenly brought to a stop by a pull on my bicep. Sam had grasped my arm and was now looking down at me with the same concerned gaze I had seen earlier in the day.
“Everything okay?”
I frowned in confusion. “Of course. We have come here so many times, we are used to the stench. I was just making a joke for Adrien,” I replied.
“At the doctor’s yesterday.” Sam looked away for a moment and swallowed thickly. He did not meet my gaze as he continued. “I know I am not supposed to pry into any doctor-patient matter, but…” He trailed off awkwardly.
Sam had never been good with words, but I made up for both of us.
“Oh, that was nothing important. It was just something Daniel and I have been talking about,” I shrugged.
Sam did not look convinced, but he nodded once and said okay and let me go. We decided to first do a perimeter tour of the island and return in the evening to settle camp.
“Viktor?”
“Da?” I turned toward him.
“Don’t you want to launch the drone first?”
“Oh, right. Shit — I forgot. Let’s do that.”
Carefully, the two of us extracted the drone from its well-packed insulated bag. While Sam checked the propeller legs, I cycled through the startup sequence. The green light blinked steadily.
I scanned the ground for a suitable launch surface. There was a flat rock just to our left, clear of penguins for the moment.
Both of us were dressed in the red parkas everyone at Waypoint wore. The penguins were used to us — but even if they hadn’t been, penguins had no natural land-based predators, and as such they had no fear of humans or anything else that arrived on two legs.
Sure enough, a group of grey-wool-covered chicks started waddling toward us.
The sight made my heart leap. They were absolutely adorable — their swinging gait, the thick grey down covering them from top to bottom.
Later in the season they would moult and the adult coloring would come through, but right now they looked like lumps of grey felted wool wandering the island on a mission only they understood.
“Crèche incoming,” I murmured to Sam.
Sam paused and turned his head to watch the incoming group. His face lit up and a smile spread across his lips.
I could only stare.
“Marvelous,” he said quietly, watching them approach.
“Yeah,” I agreed, but my attention was not on my research subjects.
Sam was serious by nature. It was just his personality — it had always been like this since I had met him ten years ago. But with me, when we were away from other people, he showed a different side.
And this was one of those rare instances where I got to witness the beauty of his smile. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. Granted, I was biased — but I had asked Daniel about it once, and Daniel had agreed, and that man was married. So there I had my objective data point.
Damn. My plan of getting over him was not starting well. But how was I to blame? If he was going to produce devastating smiles like that, how was I supposed to enforce anything?
“Let’s launch it before we get ambushed,” Sam said as he turned away from the chicks — the smile still on his face, an added twinkle sparkled in his dark eyes as he winked at me.
My heart did an odd thing. Was he trying to derail my plan? Could he somehow read my mind?
I pulled the throttle and we both watched the drone rise steadily into the air. I pulled out the iPad and confirmed we were receiving data as the drone flew over the island and began collecting colony numbers and movement patterns.
The crèche had reached us by then. Penguins were a curious lot.
The chicks watched us with their black eyes, heads turning this way and that, while making sounds continously.
In the background the constant motion of the colony carried on — adults shuffling from nest to water, some leaving, some returning, others standing watch over newly hatched chicks.
And then there were the few couples whose eggs had still not hatched, patient and still among all the mayhem.
“Ready for getting their stats?” I grinned at Sam as one of the chicks waddled so close I could see the matted clumps in its down.
“Ready.”
“Hey bud,” I said to it as we set up my study supplies. “You are covered in all the gunk, huh? Don’t worry — soon you will be all grown up and you will be jumping off this island and getting a nice clean bath in the ocean.”
The chicks clustered around us, peeking at our equipment and making their sounds.
“All right, buddy.” I scooped up the first one gently but firmly while Sam held the bag open. I dropped the unsuspecting victim inside and Sam twisted the mouth shut.
Sam set the bag on the weighing plate and let the penguin’s weight settle. I read the number aloud and entered it into the tracker. We did the same with all the bold ones who had wandered close. Chick study was a separate project and needed specialized permission.
We spent the entire afternoon tagging adult penguins and pulling off previous tags.
By the time evening rolled around, we were both tired and hungry but it had been a productive first day.
I had already collected more data than I had expected and couldn’t wait to get back to the station next week and sort through all of it.
Slowly, we made our way back to the tent, weaving through penguins like pedestrians on a busy St. Petersburg sidewalk.
Inside the bright yellow tent, we took stock of the situation. The tent had been set up at the start of the summer, and since then several research groups had come and used it and moved on. That was just how fieldwork operated at remote stations like this.
But as I was standing in the middle of the tent and I was not sure I was seeing what I was seeing.
“Are you seeing what I am seeing?” I whispered in horror.
“I think so,” Sam replied from somewhere behind me, busy unloading our gear while I stood frozen in shock.
“The second sleeping bag is damaged,” I said.
Unnecessarily.
“Yes,” he replied, seemingly unbothered. “We have one working one. Should be plenty for both of us.”
One sleeping bag. Sharing with Sam.
Fuck.
I would not survive this.