Sometimes it's not enough that it's a nice day. Sometimes the penguins gang up on me anyway. Sometimes, even, they're worse when the weather's nice. The pleasantness gets into their blood and feathers and turns them into crazed taskmasters. But, generally speaking, the grayer it is, the more likely they are to leave me alone.

All in all, being a captive isn't so bad. The penguins have forbidden me to hunt, for the obvious reason: my first instinct would be to eat one of them, and I'm not sure that I could resist it once I entered a predatory mindset. Instead, they feed me fresh fish every day. I get all the food without the work. I can't complain about that. And, when they're not pecking me, beating me with their wings, or making me toss one of their babies on my nose, the penguins are fine companions. They're more interesting to talk to than sea lions. Colony life pretty much consisted of hunting and lying around in the sun. Intellectual conversation was unknown. The penguins, on the other hand, are very curious and intelligent. When I get back to the colony, I'll see if I can goad any of the others into starting a literary society, but I don't have high hopes.

The penguins captured me six months ago, during the long summer light. Apparently, the ice I was sleeping on broke off of the floe and floated away. I have no idea how far I traveled. When I awoke, I was surrounded by penguins. They had tied my mouth shut and bound my flippers with rope made from discarded feathers. You'd be amazed at how strong it is. I've since learned how it's made. It's ingenious.

Anyway, I spent the next few hours flailing around and growling. I was confused and angry and mortified. The head penguin, Ker-Car, told me to behave. He whacked my on the head with a bone to show he meant business. Eventually, I grew exhausted and submitted. Ker-Car untied my mouth and gave me some fish to show his good faith. As my flippers were still tied, I knew I couldn't escape, so I didn't attack him. Those bone blows had hurt.