Dassen Island: Following in Kearton’s Footsteps

Almost ninety years ago, I found myself standing in the same spot where naturalist Cherry Kearton once stood. Looking out over the peaceful waters of House Bay, I could see the shimmering reflection of seagulls flying above. Their calls and screeches echoed through the silence, interrupted only by the crashing waves against the rocky shoreline of the island.

As I stand here, taking in the serene beauty of the beach before me, I can’t help but feel a sense of wonder and curiosity. This secluded stretch of land has been untouched by human presence for years. The soft, powdery sands seem to have their own story to tell, untouched by the bustling footsteps of tourists.

I gaze towards Boom Point on my left, a prominent feature that adds to the allure of this coastal haven. On my right, the remnants of an old fishing vessel rests, serving as a reminder of the ruggedness of the sea. The sandy beach extends in front of me, its pristine whiteness contrasting against the deep blue of the ocean.

In the distance, tucked away amidst the rust and overgrowth of the wrecked vessel, I catch a glimpse of crowned cormorants. These enigmatic birds choose this secluded spot as their nesting ground, shrouding themselves in secrecy. Their presence adds to the air of mystery that surrounds this place.

As I shift my gaze towards the far corner of the beach, a heartwarming sight greets me. A small group of African penguins have gathered, their tired bodies huddled together. They have returned from a long day at sea, seeking solace in the familiarity of this peaceful shore.

This secluded beach holds so many secrets, silently witnessing the ebb and flow of nature’s wonders. It reminds me of the hidden gems that exist in the world, waiting to be discovered by those who dare to venture off the beaten path.

When I learned about Dassen Island, I was captivated by its unique conservation plan and its status as a precious breeding ground for endangered seabirds. It holds a special place in my heart because of Cherry Kearton’s book “Island of Penguins,” which chronicles his time on the island in the 1920s, when African penguins thrived there. Sadly, the island has faced challenges over the years, including oil spills like the Apollo Sea and MV Treasure incidents. These events have had devastating effects on the island’s wildlife, making conservation efforts even more critical.

After months of immersing myself in research, diving into the history of Dassen Island, and learning about the current plight of its inhabitants, I received word from Johan Visagie, the conservation manager. He offered me the incredible opportunity to witness the island’s wonders firsthand and follow in Kearton’s footsteps.

When I reached Dassen Island, I was already a well-known figure in the world of wildlife documentary. I had achieved quite a lot and had some pretty impressive accomplishments under my belt. For instance, I was the first person to put together a collection of photographs featuring birds. It was a groundbreaking achievement at the time, and it opened up a whole new world of possibilities for capturing the beauty and diversity of these creatures.

But that wasn’t all. I had also come up with a clever idea to use camouflage in my work. By blending in with my surroundings, I was able to get up-close and personal with animals in their natural habitats, without disturbing or alarming them. It allowed me to capture incredible images that showcased the true essence of these creatures.

And if that wasn’t enough, I had another trick up my sleeve. I was the very first person to film from an airplane, capturing breathtaking aerial views of landscapes that had never been seen before. It was a real game-changer in the world of wildlife filmmaking, and it pushed the boundaries of what was thought possible.

I had become quite a big deal in my field, and my influence extended far and wide. In fact, I had the honor of inspiring none other than David Attenborough himself. He attended one of my talks on wildlife filmmaking and was so inspired by my work that he decided to follow in my footsteps. It’s humbling to think that my passion and innovation had such a profound impact on someone as accomplished and revered as David Attenborough.

But here I am on Dassen Island, thousands of kilometers away from Attenborough and back home in England. Standing at the bow of a fishing boat, I gaze at the island just off the West Coast. The ocean between us is wild and untamed.

Unlike today, there was no wooden jetty on the island back then. The only way to reach it was by lowering a small paddle boat from our main vessel at sea. It felt like something out of a story, reminiscent of Gulliver’s adventures. As I set foot on the island, I found myself in a peculiar land governed by little people.

The locals wore elegant black suits, white shirts, and “tiny black hobble skirts.” It was a sight to behold, like stepping into a different world. I felt a mix of curiosity and wonder as I tried to make sense of it all.

When I stayed on Dassen Island, I spent months observing the African penguins and getting to know their habits. I called them “nature’s little comedians,” but deep down, I knew that their lives were not easy. Even in the 1920s, I could tell that their population on the island was not growing. It’s hard to imagine what I would think if I saw the island today.

When I think about the impact of guano scraping on penguins, it’s hard for me not to feel a sense of sadness. For years, people scraped away the very layer of guano that these amazing birds relied on to build their nests. Can you imagine? It must have been devastating for them.

But it gets even worse. Once the guano scraping finally stopped, the old lime-washed Guano Scraper’s Quarters in House Bay were repurposed to collect penguin eggs. That’s right – the commercialization of the penguin egg industry led to the destruction of their homes and the confiscation of their precious eggs. Between 1900 and 1930, an astonishing thirteen million eggs were taken.

It’s mind-boggling to think about the scale of this tragedy. The penguin population was decimated, and it wasn’t until the 1960s that the practice of egg collection was finally stopped. Thankfully, people started to realize the damage they were causing.

I recently attended a conference at Kruger National Park where some photographs taken by Kearton in the 1920s were compared to more recent images of the island. The difference was startling. It became clear that something had to change, and in 1967, an official ban on egg collecting was put in place.

Today, we have a better understanding of the importance of preserving the natural habitats of penguins. We know that taking their eggs disrupts their reproductive cycle and threatens their survival. It’s up to us to protect these incredible creatures and ensure they have a safe place to call home.

Fast forward forty-five years and here I am, standing on the peaceful shores of Dassen Island. The chilly wind blows in from the south, and the waves crash forcefully over Boom Point, a narrow strip of land to the north that protects House Bay from the wild Atlantic ocean. Perched on the jetty, Kelp gulls diligently scan the water for any glimmer of fish activity, while sandpipers dot the sandy shoreline, their white feathers resembling tiny specters as they scurry across the beach.

As I stand in the far corner of the bay, I can’t help but be mesmerized by the sight of the small group of penguins. As the evening descends, there is a sense of excitement in the air, as more and more penguins emerge from the waves. Their numbers slowly grow, reaching a maximum of twenty. They gather below a steep boulder, which has been weathered to a beautiful yellow hue by the relentless sea and the scorching sun.

A vivid image from Kearton’s captures my attention: a sea of thousands of penguins scattered across this very beach. It’s a stark reminder of how much things have changed. Yet, amidst this reflection, my gaze falls upon another penguin emerging from the waves. With grace, it swims closer to the shore, until it can finally touch the ground.

Once on land, the penguin swiftly picks itself up with its small, agile back legs. And then, without any hesitation, it starts running like there’s no tomorrow, as if it’s being chased by demons.

As I finally reach safety, the powerful waves crashing against the shore now far behind me, I take a moment to fix my neat little suit. Once satisfied, I stumble towards the rest of the group waiting by the rock at the end of the beach.

It reminds me that even though the waters surrounding Dassen Island are heavily fished, and the population of penguins has dwindled from over a million to just over eight thousand, these birds still find joy in walking home together and keeping each other company. Their ability to lift one’s spirits is something I can’t help but think is why Kearton developed such an affection for these nature’s “comedians.”