Porpoising penguins

I have tried quite a few versions of the Gentoo Penguins porpoising, as I find it such a compelling image. Unless you're a Sealion, you only see tantalizing, brief flashes of colour as the birds "fly" out of the water and disappear in a neat splash. I'm doing some monoprints of this too, and will post them later on.


I'm putting up my last few pictures from the Falkland Islands, so I can then move on to Scottish subject-matter.

FUR SEALS
On New Island, Southern Fur Seals haul out at the bottom of steep cliffs. The females appear out of the sea-swirled kelp, and harumph over the rocks to find the crevice where they've left their pup. The small black babies are hiding under the boulders, out of the way of the territorial males. When there's a testosterone face-off, the thick-set males dash across the rocks with little regard for anything in their way. Mostly though, they seem content to lounge in the sun, opening one lazy eye to glare, if an insubordinate adolescent gets too close.



BLACK-BROWED ALBATROSS
The courtship display of the Black-browed Albatross is such a romantic affair. The birds croon to each other as they delicately preen those hard-to-reach feathers around their mate's eyes. I've been nipped by those hooked beaks, and can tell you what fearsome weapons they are. This mutual grooming must reinforce their trust for each other.

Falkland Gentoos

One swelteringly hot day on New Island we walked the five miles to the North End beach to see the Gentoo Penguin colony. The chicks were already large and could be left in a milling woolly creche while the parents went fishing. The adults sauntered down to the beach, others joining them en route. At the water's edge the group huddled together and gazed at the sea.


They wanted to go fishing, but they knew that a big male sea-lion was patrolling the shore. They summoned up their courage, and when one bird took the plunge, they all rushed in, anxious not to be the straggler that got caught.
Gentoos fish for squid a few miles off-shore, and return in the evening with bellies full of food for their chicks. In deep water they seem able to out-manoeuvre the sea-lion. They are stream-lined swimmers, streaking through the water, as fast as if they were flying in air. As they return to the beach they porpoise nervously along the shore, spy-hopping to catch a glimpse of the dark shadowy bulk of the waiting predator. If he can trap them in the shallows, their only escape is up the beach, and their short legs transform them from sleek speeders to tripping, tumbling waddlers.
Hoping to see this drama, I waited on the beach after our picnic . Kim and the children went off to see a Weddell Seal at the other end of the beach, and Georgina arrived to go swimming with the Commerson's Dolphins. Luckily for the Gentoos, the sea-lion didn't show up, but the penguins still raced for the shore, exploding out of the waves, anxious to put a safe distance between themselves and the sea.


The sand under the water made the beach look tropical in the bright sunlight, although Georgina assured me the water was very cold. I made more pictures of the penguins porpoising, and I'll put those up on the next posting.

More Magellanic Oiks

Later I made another picture of the oystercatchers as they landed on the Protector Beach. This sandy bay is dominated by the wreck of an old wooden minesweeper, after which the beach is named. A tiny fresh-water stream trickles down the beach, and groups of birds congregate there to bathe and drink.


The flock became larger each day as it was joined by birds whose nests had failed. The resident pair would display at the intruders, and then all of them would get excited and join in.

Magellanic Oystercatchers

I made this painting of Magellanic Oystercatchers when I was in the Falklands. It was a birthday present for my friend Kim Chater. The black is all painted using a bird feather that I found on the ground there.


The birds display along territorial boundaries by walking in parallel, dropping their wings, lifting their tails, and piping. The call is much more squeaky than the Oystercatchers which display outside my studio in Scotland.

Field sketches from the Falklands

In January we returned to New Island in the Falkland Islands. Mark and I worked there 11 years ago, making a film for National Geographic. I'd made a few sketches then, in between filming, but this time it was wonderful to see the place afresh through a painter's eyes. It was also great to catch up with old friends who live and work there.

I'll put up some of my fieldwork here. Soon I'll follow it up with studio work, made back in Scotland.

In January, adult Black-browed albatrosses already have chicks, but immature birds also hang around the colony. If they find an empty nest they'll practice being grown-up and try out some courtship moves.

King cormorants collect nesting material throughout the breeding season. They come crash-landing into the colony with a whirring of wings, and a beak so full of tussock grass that they can hardly see where they are going.

Across the bay from our hut was a colony of Dolphin Gulls, and we could hear the cacophony by day and night.

Gentoo penguins look great both in and out of the water. Their bodies are so expressive, stretching when on the move, but tubby when at rest.

When the Black-browed Albatross chicks are small, one parent stays to protect it while the other goes fishing.

I seem to have run out of space for pictures. I'll do another post tomorrow.

More insects

At this time of year I spend as much time as possible outside, gathering the material that will sustain me in the studio through the winter. I find myself more and more interested in all the insects that must have been here every year, but I just didn't notice before.
The great thing about insects is that you can find them everywhere. You don't have to make a special trip to a nature reserve. They're in the garden, in the house, on the way to the shops... In a foreign country you don't even have to leave the airport before you see something new. Their stories are not as well-known as those of the larger animals, but are every bit as interesting.



We visited the morning opening of a moth trap at our local nature reserve, where I made this hurried sketch of a Poplar Hawkmoth. The names of the moths are lovely. Even the boring brown ones have beautiful names. We found Clouded Drab, Watered Carpet, Scalloped Hazel and Marbled Coronet.



The ditches in Taynish have been full of Four-spotted Chasers this past month. Recently though, with the emergence of the more aggressive Golden-ringed Dragonflies, they've had to keep a lower profile.



This year I finally managed to track down these Beautiful Demoiselle damselflies. They are only half a mile from my house, and it's extraordinary how such an iridescent insect could be so unobtrusive.



I'd seen a similar damselfly in France last year. It doesn't seem to occur in Britain and I can only find a latin name - Agrion haemorrhoidalis. This, presumably, for its pink bottom.



Lastly, in celebration of last-year's migration of Painted Lady Butterflies I made this painting. They reached us by the end of May, and carried on north over the horizon. If I want to follow them I'll have to buy a new road atlas now.

Upwardly mobile

My parents live in West Sussex, where my Dad checks 250 Barn Owl nest boxes every summer. The children and I did a marathon day with him, lifting the ladder on and off the roof-rack to check 16 boxes. Some were empty, some had roosting adult owls, some had Stock Doves, and some had Barn Owl chicks in a variety of sizes. The smaller birds were covered in white fluff, while another box had fully feathered chicks, almost ready to fledge.

It was great to show the children an ecosystem so neatly laid out in front of them - the growing owls, the pellets on the floor full of Vole and Shrew skulls, and the flower-meadow outside where the food-supply came from. We took some of the pellets home to open up. The skulls, jaws and leg-bones had beautiful organic shapes - revealed by the owls.