Penguin Parade

Despite crowds of city dwellers and tourists, little penguins are thriving in the rather unlikely surroundings of suburban Melbourne.

- Linda Vergnani

Vibrating, whirring calls rise from the black volcanic boulders on the breakwater. In the gathering dark, it sounds as if the stones are coming alive; wailing and trilling. Spotting scuffling shapes, Zoe Hogg, a volunteer researcher, shines her red-filter torch onto a small rock platform. “There’s a pair of chicks!” She focuses on two plump baby little penguins that look like fluffy toys.

“Look at that beautiful blue,” Zoe says. It is not until another volunteer discreetly shines a torch beam that I can see the tiny flippers are covered in sleek, steel-blue feathers. The unusual midnight coloration of the waterproof adult plumage is the reason these penguins – smallest of the world’s 18 species – are also known as little blue penguins.

Zoe says most of the summer chicks have fledged, so we are lucky to find these youngsters, which she estimates are five to six weeks old. Below us, a flotilla of a dozen birds arrives in the harbour. Swimming in alongside the yachts, the penguins emit soft yaps – “mep, mep”. Then the white-breasted birds rocket in to land and bounce up from one boulder to the next. Some disappear into the gnarled salt bushes, while others scuttle down the centre of the breakwater.

When they reach their nesting burrows, often just narrow clefts between boulders, the adults greet their mates with braying calls. Some raise their heads and beat their flippers up and down as they trumpet their exuberant greetings to one another.

Penguin paparazzi

Just the other side of a high steel fence, hundreds of tourists crowd along the breakwater, watching the nightly return of the adult birds. The rafts of penguins are greeted with delight, surprise and lots of camera and phone lenses. Fans come from around the globe to see this colony of about 1,400 little penguins, living in Melbourne’s once-bohemian seaside suburb of St Kilda.