I knew I would see penguins in Antarctica—I mean, how could you not? But nothing could have prepared me for the absolute joy of watching them waddle, slide, and hop around in their icy world. My heart didn’t stand a chance.
The First Penguin Sighting
Our first real penguin encounter happened just after landing at Detaille Island. At first, we could only see tiny black specks in the distance. If I hadn’t been told they were penguins, I would have mistaken them for scattered rocks. But then, as we cruised in the zodiac, we rounded a corner and came face-to-face with a bustling Adelie penguin rookery.
There they were—the cutest little penguins I’d ever seen, and not just because they were penguins, but because I was seeing them in their natural environment for the first time ever. Some were making their way down the hill in their signature waddles; others were flopped on the ground, taking what I can only assume was a much-needed break from… existing. One particularly hilarious penguin was just sprawled out on his belly like he had fallen over drunk, while his buddy stood beside him, staring as if to say, “Get up, man!” Finally, another penguin waddled over, and after a moment of peer pressure, the fallen one decided to get moving again.
Some took the much more efficient route and slid on their bellies down the ice, a move so ridiculously cute that I probably squealed out loud. The pure joy on their faces—okay, maybe I was projecting, but still—made it clear they were having the time of their lives. And then there were the ones lined up at the water’s edge, hesitating before taking the plunge—until one brave penguin finally dove in, prompting the others to follow suit. It was like watching a group of kids at a swimming pool, daring each other to be the first to jump.
I could have watched them for hours.
Penguins, Penguins Everywhere
From that moment on, penguins were a part of every landing we made. It was molting season, which meant many of the birds looked extra scruffy as they shed their old feathers to make way for new ones. Molting is an important process, but it also means a few tough weeks for the penguins. Until their fresh, waterproof feathers grow in, they can’t go into the water, which leaves them looking rather miserable, standing around in awkward clumps as they wait it out. Imagine being stuck in an itchy winter coat you can’t take off for weeks – that’s molting season for penguins.
We made sure to give the molting penguins their space so as not to stress them out any further, but they were still everywhere we turned. Sometimes they looked downright grumpy, as if they were having the worst day of their lives. Other times, they simply looked exhausted.
During our journey, we primarily saw three species of penguins: Gentoo, Adelie, and Chinstrap.
- Gentoo Penguins were the most common. Recognizable by their bright orange beaks and white eye patches, Gentoos are speed demons. They’re the fastest swimmers of all penguins, reaching speeds up to 22 miles per hour. But on land, not
so much. Their waddling was the epitome of adorable, and watching them slide on their bellies was
pure entertainment. - Adelie Penguins had a more classic tuxedo look with entirely black heads and white rings around their eyes. Adelies are one of only two penguin species who live exclusively on the Antarctic continent, the other being Emperor penguins. Adelies stand only about 28-29 inches tall, but don’t let their size fool you—despite their small stature, they are a feisty bunch! They seemed a bit more serious compared to the playful Gentoos, but that didn’t make them any less charming. I loved watching them shuffle along their well-worn penguin highways, narrow paths they carve into the snow from constant use.
- Chinstrap Penguins were easy to identify thanks to the thin black band running under their chins, making them look like they were wearing tiny helmets. Most of the time, the different species stuck with their own kind, but every now and then, we’d spot a lone Chinstrap hanging out in a Gentoo rookery, as if he had just wandered into the wrong neighborhood and decided to roll with it.
One particularly bold Chinstrap seemed completely unfazed by the chaos around him. While the Adelies bustled about, carefully tending to their nests or preening themselves, this lone Chinstrap just stood there, looking around as if he was debating whether or not he had made a terrible mistake. I imagined him thinking, “Well… guess I live here now.”
The Best Thing Ever: Penguin Highways
Speaking of penguin highways, they were one of my favorite things to watch. These well-trodden paths connected different parts of the rookeries, and watching the penguins march along them, single file, was almost too much for my heart to handle. Some highways were more elaborate than others, winding up steep hills or cutting across icy stretches. It was mesmerizing to see the penguins follow the same trails over and over, like tiny commuters heading to work.
Every now and then, a penguin would get tired of the long walk and simply plop down in the middle of the highway, forcing the others to waddle around him. Some seemed to take their traffic rules very seriously, sticking to their lanes with determined focus. Others, not so much. There were plenty of tiny traffic jams, complete with confused penguins stopping abruptly, looking around, and then continuing on as if they had just forgotten where they were going in the first place.
Forever Stolen by Penguins
By the end of the trip, I had officially lost my heart to these charming little creatures. Whether they were waddling around like toddlers in tuxedos, flopping dramatically onto their bellies, or hesitating at the water’s edge before taking the plunge, I couldn’t get enough of them. I had come to Antarctica expecting to be in awe of the landscapes (and I was), but I hadn’t expected the penguins to be the ones who truly stole the show.
And honestly? They can keep my heart.
