Page 144 - 2003 - Atlantic Islands

The well- hidden, rich brown skua, predator at the Gentoo rookery, is a marvelous

child of nature too as she sits in the tussock grasses waiting, waiting, waiting. The

petite pincushions of mosses with the most minute little flowers on them are a bright

emerald green that demands your attention among the dead straw-colored tussock

blades. The graceful caribou assembled on a plain-like area near the pewter-hued

braided river add their buff color to the palette that nature is using to paint this

unforgettable picture. The honking, busy, toddling, little Gentoos in their black

tuxedos with their red bills and pinky-orange feet are occupying their rookery so far

from the shoreline, creating nest mounds with dirt and dried grass and mosses. The

cascading waterfall, behind you as you walk towards the whaling station, rushes

steeply down the mountainside in silvery rivulets, hissing, and roaring as it catches at

stones and ledges along its path. How lovely it is to you; how hateful it must have

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