Enjoy a Penguin Parade at Port Phillip Island, Australia
Board a bus in Melbourne and climb to the top for a broad view of the trip. The bus heads through St. Kilda and past all of the expensive beach property in South Melbourne. Brighton and Sandhurst are a few of the towns with fabulous homes on one side of the street and gorgeous swaths of beach on the other side.
Leaving the city, the bus rolls through farm and cattle country. One short side trip is a stop at a Koala Wildlife Park. This is a semi-self contained park, but does not feel like a zoo. You walk on the woodland paths and seek out the koalas lazing in the eucalyptus trees. Their gray furry sluggard bodies blend in well, and without movement, the bears are hard to spot. Sleeping twenty hours a day, the bears are drugged by the eucalyptus and have no incentive to leave the park.
The bus continues onward south to Cowes, a lovely seaside town, for a stop. An excellent fish and chips restaurant saves you from hunger. From Cowes, there is a short drive to Nobby Point. Here you look out to see sea lions lolling on the rocks. You have a twilight drive from Nobby Point to Port Phillip Island Nature Park. Kangaroo hop along beside the bus, as if pointing you towards the harbor. You pull into the park and join the thousands of people pouring out of their buses. You head to the grandstands, which can hold four thousand at peak season (December).
The nature park is dedicated to the conservation and enhancement of the penguin colony. No photography is permitted and security guards take away the cameras of any cheaters. Boardwalks are built over the dunes and burrow areas of the penguins. At no time are you permitted off the allowed paths and grandstand area. The dimmed lighting is designed to offer the least amount of interference to the penguins and yet still allow a good view of the penguin march.
The penguins at Port Phillip are the Little Penguins. For thousands of years, they have followed the same pattern. During the day they swim and eat fish. As the twilight diminishes and night falls, the penguins slowly emerge from the water and make their way to the burrows. In the winter, they build nests and lay eggs. Spring months involve the raising of the chicks. Summer is the molting season. The schedule does not deviate.
You sit in the grandstand and wait. Like a theater production, the crowd buzz grows louder as you get closer to show time. Then you see the first batch of penguins emerge from the waves. Hesitant, they huddle in groups of five or six looking for their break to the beach. Under darkness, the Little Penguin is avoiding hawks or larger birds that enjoy dining on meaty penguins. Fat from their feedings, they waddle and flop to shore. They scurry in clumps and seem to follow the same path to the beach grasses and their burrows. After the initial five or six in a group, up to twenty or so emerge at a time. The urgency of getting to shore increases, and yet there is a pattern. You expect to see a traffic controller using a walkie-talkie to keep the parade moving.
You are torn. You want to keep watching and counting the penguins emerging from the waves. Yet, the activity in the burrow area is growing. You move up to the boardwalk and watch as the penguins waddle about looking for their mates and their homes. One tiny chick is lost. He is pushed and shoved by other penguins as he frantically looks for a familiar penguin face. The penguins do not seem to be in a hurry to get into their burrow. As if they know it is a show, they stand around flapping their little wings and chattering away.
An announcement is made that the park is closing and you head, reluctantly, towards your bus. Amazed, amused, dumbfounded, and in awe of nature, you are grateful for the chance to see the Little Penguin parade. In turn, the penguins might be enjoying the parade of humans who visit every night.
