Birds, planes and seal pups
Out of the depths of winter, transitioning into the Casey summer feels like waking from a long sleep.
Suddenly there is a lot more noise, the pace feels more frantic and everyone is feeling a little confused, wondering what happened to our once so solitary sanctum and how the time seemed to simultaneously fly and drag.
As though it has read the script, our Antarctic home has begun to warm. Outside our windows no longer lies a thick blanket of sea ice, but of water, embroidered by icebergs.
Right on cue, the skies are no longer barren for all but clouds and snow. Skuas and petrels now dot the air, making our home theirs once again for the summer season.
Closer to the ground, we have a new generation of Weddell seals making their debut on the ice, their recent arrival punctuated by their still visible umbilical cords. Mums are cosied up to pups, wide eyed and curiously feeling out the new world around them.
As we approach to view from a safe distance, the Weddell mum raises her head to cast inquisitive eyes upon the group of strangely coloured penguins in her vicinity, before swiftly returning to her nap.
This new and more inviting Antarctica has also heralded the return of planes, for whom we groom the ice and snow to make space to take off and land. From their homes in Canada, these planes have also migrated south to follow the brightening weather.
Whilst we revel in the chance to make new friends of our recent station arrivals, we are clambering to cram our year’s lives into cardboard boxes, ready to be flown back to Australia shortly after us.
Some things brought have been kept and used dearly throughout our year. Other items are returning to their boxes having done nothing but gather dust in the drawers we first placed them in. For some of us, we have learned just how little we really need.
It has also come time to bid farewell to the huts that have served as our holiday houses throughout the year. Each of their quirks have etched them into our minds, our satellite homes for whenever our feet itched.
As we brush the sleep from our eyes, I’m excited that we get to hand this magical and far-flung corner of the world to its new custodians for the year to come. They don’t know how lucky they are.
James Greenhalgh
Doctor
