Friday, November 7, 2014

Snow, snow, and more snow...

Mid Week Updates:
The last few days have been nicely calm, at least work-wise. I have mostly
continued to help set up camp, shovel snow, chip away ice, unpack totes,
etc. Since its still only bull fur seals on the beaches staking out the
best spits of frozen beach or the best snow drifts, our work is pretty
light. Today we did hike over to the south western side of the cape to
scout for any breeding elephant seals, as well as any other kinds of
phocids that might be out there. (Quick terminology note- fur seals are
otariids, or "eared seals" aka sea lions. All "true seals" like weddell,
elephant, leopard, harbor, etc seals are phocids) Most of our work is with
fur seals, but we also do a Cape-wide phocid census (counting totals of
each species) once a week and we tag as many pups as possible to track them
opportunistically as they grow up. While over there, which I believe was
called Playa Santelmo or something similar... I should look it up... We
did in fact find one elephant seal mom with a pup that had probably been
born only hours before we arrived. There were also two male elephant seals
there, one of which was still relatively young, but still quite large as
far as fat slugs of animals go. With the ellies (elephant seals) on this
one little spit were also a couple weddell seals and several fur seals.
Elephant seals are some of the strangest, funniest, and most entertaining
animals ever. When they aren't making some of the most ridiculous noises
you've ever heard (I recommend youtubing it), they are doing this "silent
scream" where they have their mouth wide open and stare at you. It feels
like they are trying to yell at you while they slowly spin to track with
you or slink away slowly rolling hundreds of pounds of giggling blubber
over the snow while their little pups cackle and screech at their moms to
not leave them. Its hard not to just start laughing, even though they are
just trying to be good moms. Meanwhile, the weddell seals less than 10 feet
away couldn't care less what you are doing. They might lift their head,
maybe give you a few snorts, but are not up for the effort of changing
positions to keep you in sight or out of arms reach. I did watch one pee
today, but I don't think it was in response to my standing next to it, it
just had to go.

Yesterday we also hiked to a beach just south of us called Media Luna
("Half Moon") where the other group of ellies hangs out- the ones we have
visited a few times over the last week. We did a little work with them and
got lots of growls, screeches, and what sounds like the females just
belching at you for minutes on end. I almost ran home, grabbed a Coke, came
back, chugged it, and belched right back. Think of me as the seal
whisperer, but with belching. And not knowning what I am saying... On the
way home we saw a crabeater seal with scars from a leopard seal attack that
were pretty gnarly. The seal seemed to be ok though, so that's good.
Apparently its rare to see crabeaters around here, even though they are
very abundant in the Antarctic. I'm glad I've gotten to see a few so far,
including a pup that was clearly lost and hanging out on one of our fur
seal beaches.

The animals here never cease to amaze me with how accepting they are of our
presence. Arguably, most in this area have become pretty habituated to us
walking amongst them, but still. Most of the phocids you could actually
walk up and touch before they even noticed you are there. The fur seals are
a little more aware, but even then they often don't wake up until you are
walking right by them. The most cautious tend to be the penguins, but they
have this hilarious little move they do. I don't know if their eye sight
isn't great or if they just are really hopeful of friends, but as you walk
along they will often come waddling towards you. I think they believe you
are another penguin and they want to come check you out. But then they get
within about 15-20 feet (depending on the lighting), realize that you are
in fact not a 6' penguin, and do this very skeptical stare where they turn
sideways to get a better look at you. Soon after that you see them make the
final decision that you are indeed not what they had hoped and they quickly
go waddling away as quick as their little legs will carry them. It is even
better when they are on a hill, in which case they often start hopping with
both legs to get away quicker. And in case you were wondering, they do
slide on their bellies, but not as much as I expected. It still takes a
fair amount of effort to slide through powdery snow.

A couple other little notes about where I am because I have heard some
confusion still... I am at an American field camp on Livingston Island in
the South Shetland Islands just northwest of the Antarctic Peninsula.
Basically if you drew a line straight south from the tip of South America,
the first land you hit would be right around where I am. Also of note, I am
not (somewhat disappointingly) inside the Antarctic circle, nor will I get
the full 24 hours of sunlight at any point during my time here. It is
actually very similar to when I was in Alaska, where it doesn't necessarily
get dark at night, but its not sunny either. We might see some stars our
last week or two here, otherwise its pretty rare (weather doesn't help). If
you want to learn more, you can check out some of the links at the bottom
of this page, or else there is a Wikipedia page on the Cape Shirreff.
Google Maps also knows where Livingston Island is. If you want to follow
weather, not all weather websites will have my exact location, but I think
accuweather might. Weather.com has base Arturo Pratt, which is a Chilean
base not too far away, but you can probably find a closer one if you work
at it.

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