The Popper Penguin Rescue

by Eliot Schrefer

  “We’re sorry!” Nina called, hands cupped around her mouth. “We didn’t mean to scare you. Please come back!”

  As if they’d understood her words, the birds reemerged, lining up again along the beach and watching them alertly.

  “This is a relief,” Joel said. “I’m glad the penguins are okay.”

  Nina kneeled, holding her arms out. “Hi, everyone.”

  The birds turned skittish again, pressing into one another, the front row fully turning their backs on the Poppers. All except one, who made a loud jook and toddled forward. Once she had neared the family, she tilted her head to look at them inquiringly.

  “What do you think she wants?” Nina asked.

  “She wants us to feed her a fish, I’m sure of it!” Mrs. Popper said.

  The penguin shook her head sharply, then raced into the surf, getting down onto her belly to slide like a toboggan until she’d disappeared underwater. She was gone under the surface for a minute, then emerged—with a fish in her mouth! She toddled up the beach until she was in front of Mrs. Popper, then dropped the wriggling fish onto the rock.

  Mrs. Popper looked down at it.

  “I think you’re supposed to eat it,” Joel whispered, nudging her.

  “I am?” Mrs. Popper said through gritted teeth.

  The penguin toddled forward, gave the wriggling fish a peck, and then looked up at Mrs. Popper expectantly. The penguin had a patch of extra white color on her head. That became her name in Joel’s mind: Patch.

  Mrs. Popper leaned down and managed to pick up the fish in her mittens. It stared at her with its big, bulging eyes, gills flaring.

  She opened her mouth.

  She closed her mouth.

  Looking Patch in the eyes, to make sure she wasn’t offending her, Mrs. Popper gave the fish a friendly pat.

  Apparently that was enough of an acknowledgment of the present. Patch gave a triumphant squawk and waddled back to the others. They greeted her in a joyful chorus, as if she’d just gotten back from a long journey.

  “Negotiation successful!” Joel said.

  Once the penguins’ attention was drawn away, Mrs. Popper tossed the startled fish back into the ocean.

  Nina looked disappointed. “We need that food!”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Popper said. “But I think we might want to cook our fish first.”

  “But you still didn’t have to throw that one back!”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Mrs. Popper said, smoothing the front of her coat. “I got flustered because I didn’t know what to do, what can I say.”

  Right at that moment, another fish landed at the Poppers’ feet. In fact, Joel realized, it might be the very same fish that Patch had brought them earlier. She’d emerged from the surf while they were talking and stood proudly over the retrieved fish.

  “I think we’d better get a cooking fire started,” Mrs. Popper said.

  BLEAK PROSPECTS

  THE POPPER PENGUINS would go right up to the doorway of the caretaker’s hut, but they seemed unwilling to enter. They’d crowd in front of it, goading one another to go investigate, but none of them was willing to take the plunge and push open the door. Not even Patch was up to it, though she would occasionally work up the courage to spy through the window.

  “Maybe they’re worried that we’re secretly sea lions dressed up as humans and that we’ll eat them right up,” Joel said as he arranged his schoolbooks on the lumpy bed. His mother had informed him that, even in a survival situation, he’d have to keep up on his studies.

  “It’s silly for penguins to be afraid of us,” Nina said. “At least Mae and Ernest aren’t, are you?”

  What Mae and Ernest were afraid of was the other penguins! The chicks hid behind the curtain covering the hut’s window, occasionally peeking out at the big adult penguins, then hiding back away. Always the more nervous of the two, Ernest had taken to diving under Mae for protection. Of course, only his head fit, so the rest of him splayed out on the windowsill.

  “We aren’t exactly raising the most courageous chicks the world has ever known, are we?” Mrs. Popper observed.

  “It’s only because they’ve led such sheltered lives so far,” Nina said. “I think they’ll find their place in the world once they’ve had time to adjust.”

  “I don’t know, they seem to have a long way to go,” Joel said. He sidled over to the hut’s propane stove, its sole source of warmth. His mother was cooking a pair of fish on a pan. A third fish had been left raw and cut up on a tin plate, where it was serving as the chicks’ meal. “When’s our dinner ready?”

  “In a few minutes,” Mrs. Popper said. “Then I’ll cook up a couple more fish to bring to Yuka.”

  “Well, we’re definitely not going to run out of fish anytime soon,” Nina said, pointing to the beach outside the window, where a neat pile of fish had accumulated. Whenever one of the penguins went on a fishing excursion, it would return with an extra fish to leave at the Poppers’ door.

  “I wonder if this is a trick Mr. Popper taught them years ago,” Joel said.

  “Our biggest danger won’t be running out of food, but running out of fuel,” Mrs. Popper said. “If that happens, we’ll be very, very cold.”

  “How much is left?”

  She rapped her knuckles against the side of the can. It rang out hollowly. “I’m not sure. I hope enough for a few days.”

  “You hope?” Nina said, her lower lip suddenly wobbling.

  “Don’t worry, darling,” Mrs. Popper said. “The boat will be fixed by then. Or at least Yuka will have power restored so we can live on the boat until it’s ready to make the return journey.”

  Joel kneeled down to stroke Mae’s fuzzy back. “Maybe by then our chicks will be brave enough to introduce themselves to the other penguins.”

  “They’re trying to find new parents,” Nina said. “That can’t be easy!”

  “Yeah,” Joel said, settling both chicks into his lap and petting them. “Don’t let us rush you two.”

  Soon after Mrs. Popper was back from bringing Yuka his cooked fish, nighttime dropped quick and dark. Still in their coats, the Popper family closed the hut’s door, huddling together on the mattress with its scratchy but warm woolen blanket. The chicks tucked themselves under it.

  The wind howled, each gust making the walls of the hut shudder. As he drifted toward sleep, Joel imagined a sea beast was hurling its tentacles against the hut. Popper Island was fun by day, but at night it was a strange and scary place. He was glad that they were all together, that he had Nina and his mother near. He hoped Yuka was okay.

  Mae and Ernest burrowed closer as the wind got louder. Joel was glad that he had them alongside him, too.

  The next morning, Nina was the first to wake. The air in the hut was so cold that it was hard to feel the tip of her nose. But under the wool blanket it was nice and warm. The wind had died down, and instead was… what was that sound?

  Penguin chick snores! Nina held her ear against Ernest’s beak and listened to the soft wheezy sound. Maybe he was dreaming—she could see his eyes moving rapidly beneath his lids.

  Mrs. Popper sighed and got out of bed, opening the propane valve so she could light the stove. “You kids stay in bed until the hut’s warmed up, okay?”

  But Nina couldn’t wait that long. She crept to the hut’s door and eased it open.

  The sunlight was bright over the thin layer of crackly ice that had formed on the pebbles of the beach. The Popper Penguins were already hard at work, toddling all over the shore, fishing and eating and carrying on. They would toss their heads back as they made loud calls to one another, exposing their beautiful long necks.

  Joel joined Nina at the doorway, the chicks in his arms. He gently leaned down and released them onto the cold ground. They looked around, panicked, and then tried to retreat into the hut—until Nina closed the door behind them. They oorked in protest.

  “This is for your own good,” Joel explained. “You have to get used to
other penguins!”

  The chicks looked out at the cold sea. It wasn’t hard to imagine what they were thinking: Wouldn’t it be so much nicer to stay in bed?

  Patch tobogganed over and stood, toddling toward the frightened chicks. “Jook!” she said with a toss of her beak.

  Ernest dived under Mae. Mae, though, looked bravely up at the strange penguin. Then she made her first adult penguin noise. “Ork!”

  Patch clacked her beak against Mae’s a few times. Clearly feeling emboldened, Ernest emerged and held his beak out, his eyes widening in delight when Patch clacked his, too.

  Then the penguin walked along the beach, looking over her shoulder. The message was clear: Come with me!

  That’s just what Ernest and Mae did. After looking up at Nina and Joel for approval, they toddled after Patch.

  “I think we’d better go along!” Joel said as the three penguins made their way along the beach.

  “Mom, we’re exploring with Mae and Ernest!” Nina called out. “We won’t go far.”

  “Be very careful!” Mrs. Popper said. Another mother might not have let her children wander an Arctic island on their own. But Mrs. Popper knew that her kids would be careful.

  “We’ll be back by breakfast!” Joel called as he and his sister scrambled along the beach after their chicks and their new friend, rocks crunching under their feet.

  “A penguin wants to show us something!” Nina huffed as she jogged along the beach, ice breaking and tinkling under her boots. “How exciting!”

  SHOW AND TELL

  AS THEY HIKED along the frozen beach, more and more of the Popper Penguins emerged from the surf to join them. Each time a new penguin neared, the chicks would go motionless, making their baby-like oork sounds, until they summoned enough courage to let out an adult ork. The process would repeat itself each time a new Popper Penguin joined the procession.

  For such sleek creatures, the penguins were ungainly on the shore. They tipped over this way and that the moment they hit a slippery patch, more often than not knocking over another bird in the process. Joel and Nina kept near the chicks, so they wouldn’t inadvertently get squished by a rolling stranger.

  Patch led them up a bank of rocks between the rough surfaces with her flexible feet. Many of the other penguins tried to make the jumps but gave up after a few dramatic falls. They made orks of outrage as they retreated into the surf.

  Mae courageously tried to make the first leap, but bonked her head on a protruding rock. She glared at it sternly. “Gaw!”

  “Seems like you still need us,” Nina said as she and Joel each picked up a chick and clambered up the rocks.

  They drew their coats and scarves tighter as they crossed a windswept plateau. The ocean wind carried sprays of ice that stung their cheeks and noses. When they released the chicks to the ground, the birds seized up, holding their little wings tight to their bodies and scrunching their eyes closed. Joel and Nina each tucked a chick into their warm coats.

  All the while, Patch led them along.

  Popper Island wasn’t large. Before twenty minutes had gone by, they were at the center. There, the penguin made a sharp turn, then brought them to the eastern edge.

  Patch reached a precipice and turned around, making a loud ork as she gestured with one flipper.

  Nina and Joel went to join her and saw that here the ground turned into a sharp cliff. Nesting down the vertical rocky surface were birds that looked a lot like penguins. They had the same white-and-black coloration, only they were smaller and had clown-like faces that ended in bright red bills. Joel felt like they looked like inferior penguins. Then one spread its wings and swooped over the sea far below. They could fly. That was definitely a point in their favor.

  “I think those are puffins!” Nina said. “Neat. I’ve always wanted to see a puffin.”

  The kids released Mae and Ernest so the chicks could see the puffins, too. It was clearly still too cold for them—they stuck to the warm nooks between the kids’ legs. They did look out curiously, though, making startled little gasps whenever a puffin took flight. “I hope we’re not making them jealous,” Nina said, “not being able to fly and all.”

  Joel noticed that Patch kept pointing at the puffins with her wing. She wanted them to notice something.

  He looked more closely. The puffins all seemed quite skinny. Some had tufts of hair sticking out in random places. They didn’t look sleek like the island’s penguins.

  “I see eggshells around, but no chicks,” Nina said. “That’s odd, right?”

  “And look!” Joel said. “The puffins will make short flights over the water, but they never return with any fish.”

  Mae and then Ernest toddled over to Patch, taking shelter beneath her belly. The penguin patiently accepted the chicks while she continued to point at the puffins. She made sad orks, opening and closing her beak.

  “I think I get it,” Nina said, looking at the penguins and then the suffering puffin colony.

  “What is it?” Joel asked.

  “The puffins were the only birds around before. So they were the only ones eating the local fish. But now there are all these penguins here.”

  “… and the penguins are eating all the good fish,” Joel said, “which means there’s not enough food left for the puffins.”

  Patch made a satisfied-sounding ork. These dense humans had finally figured out what was going on.

  A GATHERING STORM

  WHEN THE CHILDREN returned to the caretaker’s hut, they found Yuka and their mother standing outside. They looked like adults often do when they’re worried—very still, arms crossed, staring hard. Joel and Nina sped up, in case they were the reason the grown-ups were anxious. But their mother kept her arms crossed even after she’d seen them.

  “Oh, good, you’re back,” she said.

  “What’s going on?” Joel asked, shading his eyes against the low sun, trying to see what had captured all of his mother’s attention.

  Yuka shook his head and put on a tight smile. “Nothing you need to concern yourselves about.”

  “There’s no point hiding it from them,” Mrs. Popper said. “Kids deserve to know the truth.”

  “What truth?” Nina asked, her face turning red.

  “The boat is nearly fixed,” Yuka said, his face lighting up.

  “Oh,” Joel said, confused. “That’s good news, right?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I just wanted to start with some of that. Ahem. The bad news is that, well, you can see for yourself.” Yuka pointed to the southern sky, where a bank of dark clouds had formed.

  “That does look like bad news,” Nina said, nodding.

  “It’s coming our way,” Mrs. Popper explained, “and an arctic storm is serious business. We can’t sail out until it’s passed over.”

  “And we don’t know when it will end,” Yuka said. “If my instruments had been working correctly, we’d have known about it on our way here and could have headed to the mainland earlier.”

  A mournful oork came from within Joel’s coat. “I think Ernest is very sorry about the sabotage,” Joel said.

  “Yuka will be staying with us in the hut while the storm is raging,” Mrs. Popper said.

  “We’ve got a few hours left,” he said. “Your mother wants to stay here to get the hut ready, but would you two come with me to the boat? We need to retrieve whatever supplies we can before the wind and snow come. There will be no crossing the island later.”

  Nina and Joel nodded somberly. “Of course.”

  Together they hiked across the island to the boat and returned with as many supplies as they could carry—which was not, truth be told, all that many. A lot of them had been lost overboard during the wreck.

  When they returned to the caretaker’s hut, Yuka and Joel and Nina each had a crate in their arms. They piled them in a corner of the room. Ernest and Mae hopped down from the windowsill, where they had been keeping tabs on the Popper Penguins. They huddled into the comfort of the kids’ ankles.<
br />
  The wind outside began to howl. Yuka looked out the window at the sky, his expression turning grim. “Maybe there’s less time than I thought. There might be long enough for only one more trip to the boat.”

  “I’m ready,” Nina said.

  “No, you two stay here,” Yuka said. “I don’t want to risk your being trapped outside when the winds start.”

  They watched from the window as Yuka headed back to his boat. Once he’d disappeared from view, Mrs. Popper clapped her hands briskly. “Let’s get everything put away, so the hut’s in the best order we can get it. We might be stuck inside for a long time.”

  Ernest and Mae watched gravely as the Poppers prepared the hut. Joel shook out the spare coverlet and draped it over a makeshift bed of pillows on the floor, so Yuka would have somewhere to sleep. Nina and Mrs. Popper lined up the food supplies. “Lots of canned beans!” Nina announced.

  “And some tuna fish, I hope?” Joel asked, patting Ernest on the head.

  “Of course,” Nina said. “Though I think we’re going to eat that, now that the penguins have been delivering raw fish.”

  “Oh no, the Popper Penguins!” Joel said, peering out the hut’s small window. “Do you think they’re going to be okay, Mom?”

  She squeezed Joel’s shoulder. “Of course they’ll be okay. They’ve survived many winters out here. They’re designed for this sort of weather. It’s primates like us who have to worry.”

  When Yuka reappeared at the doorway, he had icicles hanging from his hood, and the stubble on his chin glittered with frost. The wind roared into the hut, scattering the pillows Joel had carefully arranged and knocking over a tower of canned beans. Yuka slammed the door closed and stamped his booted feet. “Wow. I guess I went through storms like this in my childhood, but this seems worse than any of those ever were.”

  “Were you able to radio the authorities while you were at the boat?” Mrs. Popper asked.

  Yuka shook his head. “No, sorry. The electrical systems aren’t up yet. But we’re going to be fine. And the Popper Foundation knows our itinerary, so if we’re missing for long enough, they’ll be sure to send help.”