BIRDS ON THE BRINK
Each issue, the team behind Bird Photographer of the Year (BPOTY) looks at conservation issues surrounding different species from the UK and beyond, using beautiful images to inspire. This month, wildlife photographer and Birds on the Brink Ambassador David Tipling recalls his magical experience with Emperor Penguins, on a trailblazing expedition back in the days of film. Here’s David’s inspiring story
The Emperor is the largest living penguin species. The reason for its ‘at risk’ status is that it is the one bird alive that has shunned land as a breeding habitat in favour of frozen sea ice. Global warming is a reality, as is one of the consequences that has profound implications for Emperor Penguins: melting ice could mean the complete loss of breeding habitat for the species, in a relatively short space of time.
Never have I felt so alive in spirit nor so vulnerable to death as the day I photographed Emperor Penguins during an Antarctic storm. It was 11 November 1998 and I had spent 10 days camping on the sea ice in the Weddell Sea, not far from the very spot where Lord Shackleton had abandoned his ship Endurance, in 1915.
A storm had swept across from the west and, with icy winds in excess of 80 kph (50 mph), it had blown up into a raging whiteout. The sea ice groaned and, more worryingly still, it was beginning to crack. In that vile storm I stood very close to the Emperors – at least 200 chicks huddled together in a crèche surrounded by their braying parents. I worked very quickly to create more images, but somehow photography seemed secondary in this incredible moment.
Somewhere out there was the rest of the expedition team with whom I’d travelled to this remarkable place; but they were all invisible to me in the endless blast of snow. I was alone with these birds and it felt special, as if I was living another life, cut off from the world I had left far behind. Even as I stood there amid all that snow and surrounded by all these sheltering birds, I realised that I was witness to a spectacle, and had been part of a moment that few have ever or will ever experience.
Ten days before, at 2am, we had circled the Dawson-Lambton Glacier in our Twin Otter aircraft, before landing on the sea ice. We set up camp around 1.5km (1 mile) from the penguin colony, along the edge of a towering ice-cliff.
An extract from my diary recounts the experience: “Still out of sight but just a few steps away the sounds of adults trumpeting and chicks peeping quickened our stride. Then ahead of us were thousands of Emperors clustered together in seven sub-colonies within an amphitheatre of sculpted ice, the low light washing a warm
glow over the birds. I soon got to work taking many pictures. By 8am I felt exhausted and retired to camp to eat.
I slept until 4pm and after a quick meal went back to the penguins where, after a short search, I found a tiny chick being brooded on its parent’s feet. I sat for many hours in this corner of the colony. Often adults and chicks approached touching my boots with their beaks.”
At the time I visited the Emperors I had already spent the best part of a lifetime photographing birds, and I thought I had seen most of what the avian world had to offer. But this experience changed me. It also inspired me and in a way I hope my story helps motivate others and helps people appreciate the pivotal role birds play in our lives. Birds should be seen as the symbolic, iconic and barometric indicators of what we, collectively, have done to the planet, and their plight should inspire us all to fight to save wildlife and reverse the trends of past decades.