Beware the dangers of St Kilda’s penguin ‘experience’

The lady on the St Kilda pier was not happy. Specifically, she was displeased with an answer I’d just given her. In response to her imperious question, “When will the penguins appear?” I said – accurately but not tactfully – “When they feel like it.”

This was unsatisfactory in all sorts of ways, as was made clear by a sigh as she stomped away. She was a busy woman with many things on her To-Do list, and Seeing Some Penguins had been slotted in before dinner at a nearby bistro she’d heard good things about. Meanwhile, I suspected, there were penguins in the water nearby, casting their eyes over impatient people on the breakwater and spreading the word: “Let ’em wait.”

A penguin at St Kilda Beach.Credit: Angela Wylie

It was my second summer on penguin patrol with Earthcare St Kilda, guardians of the remarkable birds that return to burrows in the rocks in the evening and coordinators of volunteers who, equipped with little more than a high-viz vest, tried to maintain order. This was never easy. A shift was more about crowd control than cute critters.

Visitors – mostly tourists; there are still locals unaware of this natural phenomenon much closer to home than Phillip Island – wanted free penguins and wanted them now. They particularly wanted penguin pictures. They would ignore, or pretend not to hear, cries of “NO flash photos!” from members of Team Penguin. Camera flashes damage birds’ eyes. More damage can be done poking a selfie-stick down a burrow. Yes, this happened too. Often.

In recent years, though, the St Kilda penguins – around 1400 birds in a colony that began when some hipster penguins decided a breakwater built for the 1956 Olympics was fit for purpose – have enjoyed more tranquil times. COVID-19 led to the breakwater being closed to gawkers, and since then, the precinct has been redeveloped. There were suggestions that future visitors could be charged a fee, but the state government has ditched that idea quicker than a penguin evading a seal.

When visitors return, possibly later this month, they will find new walkways, toilets and spectator areas – part of what a government spokeswoman has called a “viewing experience”. Unless they’re referring to Jimi Hendrix’s band, walk in fear whenever anyone in authority uses the word “experience”. Case in point: the Australian Open, which used to be an annual tennis tournament but now sells itself as a sporting, entertainment and fine-dining experience.

The tragic irony here is that Earthcare people, who have more experience with the St Kilda penguins than anybody, appear to have been frozen out of plans for the precinct. Those in charge will be from Phillip Island Nature Parks. I don’t doubt their competence when it comes to penguins, but it would be a shame if they don’t tap into local knowledge.

Sadly, too, the sidelining of Earthcare is part of a trend unfolding across communities and councils. Volunteers, even experienced ones, are shunted aside for professionals or those deemed more suitable because they have a Certificate 3 in … something. I have seen it happen, first-hand, in local government programs for things like delivered-meals services and free transport for seniors to appointments. What is lost, every time, is the human touch.

In many ways the St Kilda penguins are victims of their own success. They are just too darn adorable for their own good. I never grew tired of seeing birds emerge from the water, alone or in groups and always in their own time, giving themselves a shake and waddling gracelessly but unerringly to a burrow. And for every pushy or impatient visitor there would be someone else grateful for assistance or answers to a question. (Why does that one look scruffy? It’s moulting.)

The St Kilda penguin colony has become a popular tourist destination.Credit: Simon Schluter

On many evenings, however, spectators might outnumber the stars of the show. Some would pull a Peggy Lee: Is that all there is? To which I would silently respond: What do you expect for nothing, in sight of the CBD? Besides, these are wild animals, not trained performers. There were certainly times when a handful of us were only barely in control, even with high-viz vests. So I understand why some changes are being made, especially to protect the penguins.

Still, it all explains why my favourite evening on the breakwater was one when the weather was worst. Rain and howling wind kept visitors away. We foolish wet few from Team Penguin stayed well past dusk as, all around, birds fresh from the sea ignored us and got on with their noisy, smelly and incessant business. Long may they continue to do so.

Alan Attwood is a former Age correspondent and section editor.

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