March of the penguins: meeting the feathered locals of Phillip Island, Australia

24.07.2023 - 07:59 / nationalgeographic.com

As the sun sinks lazily into the horizon and day turns to night on Phillip Island, a hush of anticipation settles across the group gathered at Summerland Beach. Our eyes strain in the gloaming, scanning the swaying wheatgrass of the foreshore and the darkening waves beyond, gently spilling their foam onto the sands. Typically, dusk heralds the end of a day but, here, at the water’s edge, it’s time for the main event: a nightly wildlife spectacle known as the Penguin Parade. Any moment now, our guests of honour will arrive.

“Of the 18 penguin species around the world, Little Penguins are the smallest,” says our group’s appointed ranger and guide, punctuating the warm evening air with facts. He’s part of Phillip Island Nature Parks, a self-funded organisation that protects the rich biodiversity of this wild island, connected to the southern state of Victoria by a half-mile sea bridge. “They’re mainly found along the coastlines of southern Australia and New Zealand, but, with a whopping 40,000 breeding penguins, we have the largest colony in the world.”

The diminutive seabirds — still taking their time to show up — may be the big draw in these parts, but they’re by no means the only show in town. Since I drove onto the island, I’d been struck by the raw drama of its topography: the way its cragged coastline offers up yawning golden coves and broken-teeth sea stacks, giving way to dense bushland and undulating hills in the interior. Around 12,000 people call Phillip Island home but, as a traveller, you’d hardly know it: it’s the sheer number of native species, carefully nurtured here, that take centre stage as you explore — from koalas and kangaroos to wallabies, wombats, dingoes and possums.

"Before coming to land, Little Penguins gather offshore in groups called ‘rafts’,” our guide continues, addressing those of us who’ve amassed on the Penguins Plus platform, the highest of three ticketed vantage points in the custom-built viewing boardwalk. “They wait for dusk to hide from predators such as pacific gulls and sea eagles; you're about to watch them waddle across the shore in groups, following familiar tracks back to their beachside burrows."

I settle into my seat and continue to fix my gaze on the inky waves, hoping to spot the first ‘raft’ surface from a busy day fishing. The entire area has been carefully developed to protect these small seabirds and allow visitors safe, unobtrusive access to their habitat. And although around 150 avian enthusiasts are in attendance this evening, some clearly regulars sporting blankets and binoculars, the experience feels remarkably intimate. We’re instructed to turn off our phones and cautioned to be quiet.

Suddenly, hushed whispers of, “there, there!” become quieted