Skip to main content

Macroscapes

"Stretching his hand up to the stars, often a man forgets the flowers at his feet."
- Jeremy Bentham

Marion Island clearly has its stars, and I'm not talking about the unbelievably clear nights. Macaroni penguins take centre stage at the Amphitheatre whilst wandering albatrosses roam the mire-strewn plains of Goney, attracting the attention of passers-by with bubble clicks and wide spread wings. The seals lounge about on the beaches and nearby slopes like royalty, making it very clear that you are an intruding peasant and curse you for waking them up from their afternoon siestas. "Off with his head (or leg)!" I can sometimes hear them say. Have I been here too long? Let us not forget the killer whales, their stardom heightened by their mysterious lives in the deep blue. All these large creatures and their seemingly obvious ways of living are the first to receive our praise and attention, and will forever live their lives in the spotlight.

There are, however, many amazing little worlds on Marion that we so hardly get to be a part of simply because they're too small. I brought along with me, on this adventure of a lifetime, a very special friend who I've become extremely fond of - my Canon 100 mm f2.8 macro lens (thank you Kieron). These are some images of life through her eyes.


This is the flightless moth Pringleophaga marioni, endemic to Marion Island. Thousands of years ago the ancestors of this moth could fly and were blown in the direction of a newly formed volcanic chunk in the Southern Ocean. The relentless winds made flying too dangerous and slowly, after many generations, wings became useless and the moths resorted to walking.


A flower of the coastal plant Cotula plumosa.

A macroscopic Antarctic Tern's eye-view of Lycopodium susurrus.


The common chickweed Cerastium fontanum. It's not native to the island, but together with garlic flakes and balsamic vinegar it makes a lovely salad.


A psychadelic lichen spreads its colourful presence over a streamside boulder.


This is Matchstickitus lionensis. Just joking, it's a little sprout from the 100 or so species of moss on the island.


A little aphid wades through the intricate macroscape of an Azorella cushion.

A lichen of the genus Cladonia peers out from a macroscape of hepatics.

A stem flower of the prickly ball plant Acaena magellanica.

The gemmae cups of the liverwort Marchantia berteroana are home to the plant's little kids, gemmaes. When the time is right and the rains come, they'll get splashed out and fall to the ground where theyll develop into new liverworts.


Psychadelic lichens like this carpet the volcanic rocks around Marion.

A spider wades through the busy undergrowth of a macroscape.

An intimate look at a prickly ball of Acaena magellanica. The tiny arrows on the end of each spike, which carry the plant's seed at the bottom, attach to the feathers of birds, the fur of seals and the clothes and beards of humans. What a clever dispersal strategy!

A caterpillar of the small flightless moth Embryonopsis halticella munches happily away on a blade of Poa cookii. These caterpillars spend their entire days on these plants until they are ready to cuddle up in a warm silk-lined cocoon sleeping bag where they'll chill out and think about how great it's going to be to fly, erm, walk.

This moss definitely is a pretty flower thing.

A flower of the invasive Sagina procumbens peers out from the crowd.

A newly sprung bud of the small fern Blechnum penna-marina begins its life with an unfurling yawn.

Not much is known about the mushrooms on the island except that they give one hell of a kick! Just joking, this species is thought to belong to the genus Galerina and is deadly poisonous.

Perching on a Blechnum bud, a fledging aphid gets ready to experience the life of an albatross.

The leaves of Acaena magellenica are lined by an intense purple.

One of the many lichen species on the island grows on the 'mouse-walk' at the old base.

A flower of the broadleaved Callitriche antarctica plays host to a wandering down feather.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Once again, an inspiring trip into y/our world, I really loved the lycopodium and the liverwort shots. A book may very well be in order, waddya think? Please send some loving thoughts to Lucky -he is really very ill. x

Popular posts from this blog

Phytoplankton and Penguins

Phytoplankton are perhaps the most important group of organisms on our planet. They are microscopic, single-celled galaxies that come in many different shapes and sizes. They are the movers and shakers of our marine ecosystems that transfer energy into food webs. Without them, there would be no krill, fish, penguins, seals or albatrosses. Basically, phytoplankton use nutrients from the water and, together with sunshine, create energy (via photosynthesis) that enables them to grow and multiply. When conditions are just right, phytoplankton are capable of erupting into enormous blooms. Below is a satellite image of a phytoplankton bloom associated with upwelling along the edge of a meso-scale eddy north of South Georgia: The focus of my PhD is all about understanding the at-sea movements of two penguin species from Marion Island (the larger of the Prince Edward Islands). Because these penguins feed on krill, and krill feed on phytoplankton, peng...

Spring Flowers

Every September the West Coast explodes into the most amazing colours. Knowing this, Jem and I decided to take a day trip up to Posberg Flower Reserve (West Coast National Park) to soak it all in. I get the same stoked feeling every time I see the flowers and always end up in such awe that a phenomenon like this isn't staged by some supernatural force. Fields and fields of flowers unfurled to the sun, flaunting their saturated petals at buzzers-by. Monkey beetles, flies, wasps, bees and countless other critters whizzing from inflorescence to inflorescence spreading pollen throughout these floral metropolises. The insects are followed by the birds... and so many of them! This truly is a time for the birds and the bees; pollination at its best.

The Jumping Spider and the Ant

A few weeks ago I was admiring the veggie patch behind our house when I noticed the red pepper plant had a leaf with another stray leaf resting on it. I gave it a tug but it was fastened solidly. I decided to peel away the front and have a look to see who was living inside. I often see jumping spiders prowling through the garden, but I hardly ever see them doing more than that. Their world is so miniature, and so its really special when you happen to meet them at an interesting moment. Two weeks later, a little jumping spider had caught a common house fly just one plant down from the red pepper. He wasn't actively eating it, but just holding onto it, waiting. I then glimpsed a tiny ant making its way up the stem towards the spider. When it approached, the spider, who had been rather still, shuffled to the end of the leaf with the ant hot on its heels. Just as the ant was about to make contact, the spider suddenly rappelled down to a lower leaf along a thin stra...