I was contemplating the blue-black water stretching away toward Antarctica when I heard a rush of wings and a faint clicking of talons on the shale, and turned to face a pair of young striated caracaras—the first I’d ever seen. Unlike the penguins and shags, they were unmistakably interested in me; one took a few steps in my direction and cocked its head like a dog. A gift seemed appropriate, but I didn’t have any food, so I fished a pen from my pocket and dropped it on the ground. The two birds gazed at it for a moment, as if deciding what to do, and then one stepped forward to seize the pen
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