Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Visuals - pingu & co.

"By now the penguins have gathered round the bucket and a few have wandered over to size me up. They stare, they circle, they stretch their necks. 'The neck-stretch thing is: 'I just don't know what to make of you,'' says Rowell. Occasionally one will tilt back its head and bray like a donkey. One of the small Africans leans in and tugs on my trouserleg with his beak. Two others take turns pecking my right shoe. A forth penguin ducks under my arm and tries to take my pen. Penguins have an insatiable curiousity which, when you are its subject, borders on harassment. It's like being threatened by a gang of eight-year-olds."

"Toward the end of my time, one gentoo - Ronnie, I think - sidled up, stood alongside me and started looking in the same direction as I was. Together we stared out over the bay, past the cormorant rock, toward Brixham and Berry Head. After a moment he leaned gently against my shoulder. I resisted the urge to put my arm around him. We stayed like that for a while; me and Ronnie, my special penguin friend. I wonder if they have one his size in the gift shop."

- Tim Dowling, "My life as a penguin", Nov. 15, 2005, The Guardian

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