nd the penguin uses its wings as fore-legs, and crawls or runs on
four feet, as it were, so quickly that, on a grassy cliff, it might be
mistaken for some kind of quadruped. Living in regions which are rarely
visited by man, these birds have not yet learned to dread him, but often
stand still until they are knocked down with a stick. They are very
courageous. A naturalist tells us how he attempted to stop one as it was
going down to the sea. He intercepted it, but the bird fought him and
drove him backwards step by step. Every step the bird gained it kept,
standing up erect and fearless before the naturalist, and continually
rolling its head from side to side. Nothing short of heavy blows, he
tells us, would have stopped it.

The penguin lays one egg, of a whitish colour, about twice as large as a
goose's egg. It is said that the female bird hatches its egg by keeping
it close between its legs, and that if it be disturbed at this time, it
will carry its egg away with it. While the female bird is hatching its
egg, the male goes to the sea to catch fish for them both; and, when the
young one is hatched, both parents go to sea and bring it food. They do
this so well and so unselfishly that the young bird grows quite fat, and
is scarcely able to walk, while the old birds themselves become thin.
The young bird takes its food in a very curious way. When its mother has
just returned from the sea, she stands up over her little one, and makes
a great noise something between the quacking of a duck and the braying
of an ass. After that has gone on for a minute or so, she puts down her
head and opens her mouth, and the young one thrusts its beak in and
takes out its food.

Living in such cold countries, and spending so much time in the cold
water, the penguin needs to be well protected from the cold. And so it
is. Its short feathers are closely packed, and form a water-proof coat.
Under the skin there is a thick layer of fat, which helps to keep out
the cold; and, as we have already seen, the penguin eats enormous
quantities of food, much of which is no doubt used up in keeping the
bird warm. Some people tell us that the penguin's flesh is not
disagreeable to eat, while others say that it is far too oily to be
pleasant. In Newfoundland it used to be burnt upon the fires in place of
wood. The flesh is, indeed, so oily that in some places a lamp is said
to be made by sticking one end of a piece of moss into the body of a
dead pengui