The natural history of emperor penguins is a story of heroic parenting. After mating in winter at the edge of Antarctica (midsummer for us), female emperors head to sea, leaving their mates to incubate the eggs alone. Males gather in huddles, each balancing a single egg on its feet under a brood flap. Two months later, in frigid darkness, the chicks are born. The females return and both parents then take turns bringing food to their chick.
By late spring, emperor penguin colonies are crowded with parents brooding young chicks while older chicks wander about in groups, and a constant
procession of adults shuttles back and forth from the open sea. Emperor penguins do not find each other by sight: Parents and chicks reunite by calling. For a chick, it is crucial to know its parents’ voices. For me, knowing this behavior was a crucial step in the creation of a classic image.
Camped near the edge of a colony, I focused on capturing moments that showed the unique nature of emperor family life. I watched adults returning from the sea and listened for responses as they called for their chicks. When chicks hear their parents trumpeting, they whistle in reply, which keys in all three birds to each other.
At the edge of the colony I zeroed in on two parents as they found their chick--and each other. In a courtly greeting ritual both parents bowed and trumpeted, reaffirming their bond in front of their chick. Even though emperors are quite approachable, I stayed a distance away so as not to disturb them. A 300mm f2.8 lens with a teleconverter isolated the birds from the crowd and rendered the background smoothly. I overexposed by a stop to make the whites look really white on film. The ultimate moment came when the chick stretched out both flippers in a visual exclamation point--a gesture any human parent can recognize as an expression of joyful family reunion.
