Drake Passage, East of Cape Horn, South America
Yes! We are on our way south to Antarctica!! MSEndeavour pulled away from the pier in Stanley, Falkland Islands last night and we are on our way to the White Continent. Legendary Antarctica. The Seventh Continent. South. Or “The Ice” as it is known to the few local scientists and support personnel who work there and for those of us who have been there several times for a visit. To me, traveling back to Antarctica is a sort of pilgrimage back to a “spiritual home” because I have lived and worked down here for 14 seasons studying and lecturing on the penguins and other seabirds. The Pintado Petrel (pictured here) always signals a return south to Antarctica. Its checkerboard black and white pattern makes it unmistakable and easily recognizable, while its affinity for ships make it fun to watch, and a favorite of birders and photographers alike.
In his famous book published in 1936, Oceanic Birds of South America, Robert Cushman Murphy explains several of its other names and their derivations. In Latin it is Procellaria capensis from Linnaeus, 1758 (Cape of Good Hope), but it is now Daption capensis in a separate genus from the other tube-nosed petrels. The name Cape Petrel comes not from Cape Horn in South America where sailors called it the Cape Horn Pigeon, but from the Cape of Good Hope in Africa where it was first seen and described. Murphy says that “in the tradition of the ocean”, only the Cape of Good Hope is “the Cape”, while Cape Horn is “the Horn”. Pintado is Spanish for “painted”. “Pigeon” comes from its manner of flying, and perhaps more appropriately for the way it coos to its mate on the nesting site. The French name is “Damier” which reminded sailors of a checkerboard. The Spanish names “Damero” as used in Argentina, and “Tablero” in Chile have the same significance. I prefer the name Pintado Petrel, as it looks delicately yet deliberately painted to me, but I may change my mind after just learning that in 1927 Herbert Friedman recorded his first impression of the bird in his publication “Notes on Some Argentine Birds” as “flying dominoes”!
Yes! We are on our way south to Antarctica!! MSEndeavour pulled away from the pier in Stanley, Falkland Islands last night and we are on our way to the White Continent. Legendary Antarctica. The Seventh Continent. South. Or “The Ice” as it is known to the few local scientists and support personnel who work there and for those of us who have been there several times for a visit. To me, traveling back to Antarctica is a sort of pilgrimage back to a “spiritual home” because I have lived and worked down here for 14 seasons studying and lecturing on the penguins and other seabirds. The Pintado Petrel (pictured here) always signals a return south to Antarctica. Its checkerboard black and white pattern makes it unmistakable and easily recognizable, while its affinity for ships make it fun to watch, and a favorite of birders and photographers alike.
In his famous book published in 1936, Oceanic Birds of South America, Robert Cushman Murphy explains several of its other names and their derivations. In Latin it is Procellaria capensis from Linnaeus, 1758 (Cape of Good Hope), but it is now Daption capensis in a separate genus from the other tube-nosed petrels. The name Cape Petrel comes not from Cape Horn in South America where sailors called it the Cape Horn Pigeon, but from the Cape of Good Hope in Africa where it was first seen and described. Murphy says that “in the tradition of the ocean”, only the Cape of Good Hope is “the Cape”, while Cape Horn is “the Horn”. Pintado is Spanish for “painted”. “Pigeon” comes from its manner of flying, and perhaps more appropriately for the way it coos to its mate on the nesting site. The French name is “Damier” which reminded sailors of a checkerboard. The Spanish names “Damero” as used in Argentina, and “Tablero” in Chile have the same significance. I prefer the name Pintado Petrel, as it looks delicately yet deliberately painted to me, but I may change my mind after just learning that in 1927 Herbert Friedman recorded his first impression of the bird in his publication “Notes on Some Argentine Birds” as “flying dominoes”!
