In a world where digital amusements swallow a child’s attention faster than a leopard seal snaps up a fish, I once again offer you something truly special: a New Year’s tale-true about the penguins of Galindez Island. This is not merely a holiday story to be read aloud at bedtime, but an entire living world, whose plot is woven from real events surrounding the Ukrainian research station “Akademik Vernadsky.” I invite you on a journey where each of the 7,000 penguins awaits the arrival of a small hero named Percy-Peak!
Why Should You Read This Penguin Tale from Beginning to End?
- Magic + Science: the story perfectly weaves a fairy-tale plot together with real facts about polar explorers and penguins.
- Universal values: it teaches courage, faith in oneself, and the understanding that the truest miracle lives within us.
- Perfect for the New Year: a ready-made holiday tale that creates a festive mood and a sense of wonder.
- A reason to talk: a New Year’s story offers countless opportunities for meaningful conversations with children aged 4–6 about what truly matters.
- Sparks imagination: it inspires creativity, play, and shared moments together.
Percy-Peak the Little Penguin and the Magic Egg
At the very bottom of our round planet, where snowflakes as large as saucers dance a waltz to the music of the wind, lies Galindez Island. This is no mere slab of ice, but a true Antarctic metropolis—noisy as a schoolyard at recess.
Here, right beside the research station “Akademik Vernadsky,” life bubbles and bustles, scented with crisp frost and toasted croutons from the southernmost bar in the world, “Faraday.” In December 2025, something happened here that even now makes the icicles chime together at night.
Part 1. The Restless Egg
Such a din rose over Galindez Island as if all the alarm clocks on Earth had decided to wake at once. Seven thousand penguins—in elegant black tailcoats with snowy white fronts—were engaged in the gravest of affairs: one had pinched the prettiest pebble from a neighbor’s nest, another was rehearsing a ceremonial “Kuwa-a!”, and yet another was simply sliding down snowy hills on its belly, pretending to be an express train.
December 2025 was enchantingly beautiful. The polar explorers at the “Akademik Vernadsky” station were far from idle as well. They pulled shimmering tinsel from boxes and began decorating the Faraday bar. The lights of the garlands shimmered in the icy ridges, and it seemed as though the snowdrifts had been dusted with powdered sugar and starlight.
“Listen,” said one bearded polar explorer, hanging a spruce branch over the door, “this year spring in Antarctica smells different. Almost like ripe fruit!”
And he was right. In the very heart of the penguin city, in a snug little nest of rounded stones, lay an egg. It was neither simply white nor gray. Through its shell glimmered a strange, gentle orange light, like the dawn—or the sun-warmed side of a ripe fruit.
Inside this egg-house lived a tiny hero. It was terribly cramped, yet wonderfully curious. He could already hear the snow crunch beneath human boots, and through the thin wall he could glimpse, far away, the festive lights of the station flickering and glowing.
“When will it be?” he thought, wiggling his little flippers. “I don’t want to be just a penguin. I want to be… Penguin-Peach! Or no… Percy-Peak!”
Yes, my friend, you understood correctly—penguin chicks choose their own names. This one was born from the sound “Peep-peep!” with which he tried to tap through his shell, and from that very peachy hue that colored his first soft down.
So Percy-Peak was in such a hurry to see the New Year and to meet the bearded giants in red jackets that his egg began to bounce in the nest like a rubber ball. All around lay thousands of other eggs, dignified and calm. But Percy-Peak could not wait. He longed to hatch very, very first and become the most noticeable of all.
Part 2. How Percy-Peak Found the Magic Egg
The morning of December 1st, Antarctica Day, began in dreadful commotion. A gigantic tourist liner, white as an iceberg, glided up to Galindez Island. From it poured people in bright jackets, like a flock of gaudy parrots in a world of black-and-white tailcoats.
“Kwa-a-ak, how fascinating!” cried the tourists (that is roughly how it sounded in the penguin tongue), clicking enormous black contraptions—cameras.
The penguins, of course, were astonished. They posed, puffed out their bellies with dignity, and even allowed themselves to be photographed from their most flattering angles. But when the tourists returned to their ship, leaving behind only silence and a few forgotten footprints in the snow, something important happened.
There, where the noisy crowd had just stood, on sand damp from the waves, lay something unexpected. Round, glossy, and astonishingly red. It was an ordinary glass Christmas ornament, apparently dropped from someone’s rucksack.
At that very moment, Percy-Peak stirred in his nest. He had been in such a hurry that he decided not to wait his proper time and hatched before everyone else—on this very remarkable day! His first, still-damp peach-colored down shimmered in the sunlight.
The first thing he saw was not his mother and father, but a mysterious red glow in the distance. Curiosity flooded little Percy-Peak. He waddled clumsily toward the shining thing.
“Peep-peep!” he squeaked as he drew closer. “What a strange egg! And surely a very, very important one.”
The ornament gleamed so brightly, as though a tiny star lived inside it. Percy-Peak understood at once: this was no ordinary egg. This was a magic egg, from which the greatest New Year’s miracle for the entire penguin city—and even for the bearded polar explorers—was meant to hatch!
He gently tapped the cold glass with his beak. The ornament did not even think of cracking.
“So the miracle is still asleep,” Percy-Peak decided. “But I shall wake it! Everyone is waiting for the New Year, and what sort of holiday is there without a miracle?”
Thus began the great adventure of a little penguin who found a magic red sphere and resolved, no matter what, to give everyone a holiday.
Part 3. How Percy-Peak Saved the New Year from the Leopard Seal
Antarctica is not only sugar-white snowdrifts, but also a vast icy labyrinth where a surprise lurks around every corner. For a little penguin whose height barely exceeded that of a tin of sweetened condensed milk, this world seemed endless.
Percy-Peak looked at his glass trophy. The ornament was cold, yet deep within it crimson sparks were dancing.
“Don’t be afraid, Wondrous Egg,” Percy-Peak whispered, pressing the sphere to his fluffy wing. “I will carry you to the Giants in Red Jackets. It is warm there, the lights are glowing, and the air smells of good tea. That is where you will surely hatch!”
And so he set off. A journey that would have taken an adult polar explorer five minutes turned into a full-fledged expedition for Percy-Peak.
First, the Great Crevasse rose in his path. It was so deep that it seemed to whisper with the voice of the Earth’s very depths. Percy-Peak froze at its edge, his tiny heart rattling like a little motor. But suddenly the red sphere in his flippers flared brighter than a lighthouse! Its light reflected off the icy walls, laying a glowing path across the bottom of the crevasse.
“Oh!” the little one rejoiced. “You’re showing the way!” And, squeezing his eyes shut, he leapt across the obstacle (well, almost leapt—more like tumbled—but very heroically).
Then a shadow slid out from behind an ice floe. It was a leopard seal—spotted, toothy, and exceedingly cunning. He was just considering whether to have something small and peach-colored for breakfast. The seal was already preparing to spring when a miracle occurred.
Though in December the Antarctic sun scarcely sets, the sky suddenly filled with heavy clouds, and deep blue twilight fell. In that darkness, the sphere in Percy-Peak’s wings shone with such blinding red brilliance that the seal squeezed his eyes shut.
“Oi-oi-oi!” cried the predator in his leopardish tongue. “What sort of land-bound sun is this? My eyes aren’t made of iron!”
While the predator rubbed his eyes with his flippers, Percy-Peak, wobbling comically, was already racing away. The wind whistled in his ears, snowflakes nipped at his cheeks, and ahead—on a rocky rise—the lights of the “Akademik Vernadsky” station came into view.
The sphere glowed more and more cheerfully. It seemed to say, “Just a little farther, Percy-Peak! The most important thing is not to let go of the miracle, even when a blizzard is raging all around.” And the little penguin went on, leaving behind on the pristine snow tiny tracks, like embroidered crosses on the whitest towel in the world.
Part 4. How Little Percy-Peak Conquered a Great Fear
At the very foot of the “Akademik Vernadsky” station, Percy-Peak’s path was blocked by the Great Water. On the edge of a slick icy cliff stood hundreds of adult penguins. They shuffled from foot to foot, stretched their necks, and peered anxiously into the dark ocean below.
This was the famous “penguin effect”: everyone wanted fish, but no one wished to become dinner for the predator lurking beneath. The penguins stood so tightly packed that they resembled a vast black-and-white carpet that had entirely forgotten how to move.
“Excuse me! Make way for the Miracle!” squeaked Percy-Peak, pushing through a forest of rough, feathery bellies. “I’m carrying the future of the holiday in my flippers—we urgently need to cross to the other side, to the people!”
The grown penguins only shook their heads.
“Where are you going, little one? Down there is darkness—and someone’s teeth! Wait until someone else jumps first.”
But Percy-Peak felt the red sphere in his wings begin to pulse, like a living heart. In the icy reflection of the glass, he no longer saw a tiny chick, but a brave polar explorer. The sphere warmed his chest, and its light burned away every trace of fear.
“If everyone waits for their neighbor, the New Year will simply swim past us!” Percy-Peak cried resolutely.
He clutched the “Wondrous Egg” tighter, squeezed his eyes shut, and, letting out the clearest “Peep!” of his life, dove headlong like a swallow into the icy abyss.
The water closed over him like a frozen blanket. But something incredible happened: beneath the surface, the red sphere did not go dark. On the contrary—it flared like a powerful crimson searchlight! In its glow, Percy-Peak saw that the depths were clear and empty—no leopard seal at all, only silvery bubbles of air.
Through the ice above, the penguins saw this magical radiance. It was so inviting and reassuring that fear burst like a soap bubble. First one, then ten, and then hundreds upon hundreds of penguins splashed joyfully into the water after their little hero.
Percy-Peak swam at the front, slicing through the waves, with a trailing wake of hundreds of birds behind him. From afar, it looked as though a true comet was flying through the ocean, with a glowing red core and a long black-and-white tail.
When Percy-Peak scrambled ashore right by the station steps, he was soaked, breathless, but utterly happy. He had become the first pioneer of 2025. And now only the most important thing remained—to hand the Miracle to those who knew how to light real stars.
Part 5. How Percy-Peak Became the Most Honored Guest at the Faraday Bar
That evening at the “Akademik Vernadsky” station was unusually quiet. The polar explorers sat before their monitors, watching the feeds from the outdoor cameras. Suddenly, one meteorologist rubbed his eyes and leaned closer to the screen.
“Hey, look at that! Something’s rolling down the slope… a peach? With a red lantern!”
The scientists rushed out onto the porch. The wind scorched their faces, but what they saw made them forget the cold entirely. Straight toward the station door, breathing hard and waddling from foot to foot, came a tiny penguin. In his short wings, like a precious treasure, shone the very red ornament the tourists had lost.
Percy-Peak stopped beside a polar explorer’s enormous boots and solemnly lifted his head.
“Peep-peep!” he proclaimed loudly. “I have brought you the New Year’s Egg. Take care of it—Happiness will soon hatch from it!”
Of course, the people did not speak penguin, but they understood everything. Serious-minded biologist Zoya crouched down and gently accepted the Christmas ornament from the chick’s beak.
“Just look,” she whispered. “This hero carried a fragile toy through blizzards and crevasses. He truly believed he was saving our holiday.”
The polar explorers exchanged glances. Each of them thought the same thing: the real miracle was not magic, but the brave heart of little Percy-Peak, who was not afraid of leopard seals or icy water.
On December 31, 2025, it was warm and lively in the southernmost bar on the planet, the Faraday. The air smelled of ginger biscuits and pine needles. In the center stood a small Christmas tree, and on its most honored lower branch (so guests could admire it easily) hung that very red ornament.
And outside, beyond the panoramic window, Percy-Peak sat atop a snowdrift. The polar explorers brought him an entire platter of the tastiest krill treats.
Epilogue. How Percy-Peak Lit the Sky over Antarctica
The clock in the Faraday bar struck midnight. The New Year had arrived—2026! Inside the station, people shouted “Happy New Year!” and clinked mugs of warm tea. The red ornament on the Christmas tree flared brightly once more, as if giving a playful wink.
Outside, perched atop the highest snowdrift, Percy-Peak gazed into the inky-blue sky. An incredible warmth filled his chest. His mission was complete: the miracle had hatched and now lived within those kind, bearded giants.
“Peep,” he whispered softly to the stars. “Now it’s your turn.”
And then something happened that Galindez Island had not seen for many, many years. Usually, only modest glimmers of distant light appear here. But tonight the sky decided to host a true masquerade ball.
First came a slender green ribbon, like the bow from a wrapped gift. It grew and twisted—and suddenly the heavens were painted as though someone had spilled a whole bucket of magic paint across black velvet. Emerald, rose, and violet lights leapt and danced.
It was the Aurora Borealis, or, as Percy-Peak instantly named it, the “Sun Dance.” Hundreds of penguins lifted their heads skyward. Their black-and-white tailcoats shimmered in every color of the rainbow. Each penguin felt a wondrous surge of strength and hope. They knew the coming year would be kind and full of adventure—and they believed that every adventure would end well.
Percy-Peak, the smallest hero of this vast continent, smiled. He thought about how miracles do not always hatch from eggs. Sometimes they are born from courage, from faith, and from one small red ornament that someone once forgot on the shore.
Happy New Year, friends! And remember: even in the coldest place on the planet, there is always room for warmth and wonder.
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How to Talk About the Story with a Child Aged 4–6
When you finish reading the New Year’s tale, settle in cozily with your child and talk through these questions together. It is important to listen carefully to their answers, paying attention to every word.
- The Hero and His Goal:
“How do you think, why was the little penguin in such a hurry to hatch?”
“Why did he decide to carry the red sphere to the people at the station?”
- Overcoming Fear:
“Percy-Peak faced many dangers (the crevasse, the leopard seal, the frightening water). What helped him not to be afraid?”
“Do you remember the ‘penguin effect’? Why were the grown penguins afraid to jump into the water? And what did Percy-Peak do?”
- Searching for the Miracle:
“What do you think the ‘Egg of the Miracle’ really is—magic, or just a toy?”
“Where, in your opinion, does the true New Year’s miracle live?”
- Emotions and the Ending:
“What did you feel when the penguins saw the Northern Lights?”
Creative Workshop: Games and Crafts After the Story
- “Percy-Peak’s Red Sphere” — Made by Hand
Take an ordinary Christmas ornament (plastic is best) or make one from foam. Together with your child, decorate it with bright glitter and glue on tiny rhinestones. Explain that this is their very own personal “Egg of the Miracle,” just like the one in the penguin story.
- “Northern Lights” with Paints
On a sheet of thick black paper, paint magical flowing patterns together with your child using finger paints or gouache (green, blue, pink), just like in the story’s epilogue. Dampen the paper with water beforehand—the paints will spread and blend on their own, as if you had set a real polar process in motion. It is a simple and fascinating activity!
- Penguin Shadow Theater
Cut out penguin figures and a leopard seal from black paper. Turn on a flashlight in a dark room and act out the key scenes of the New Year’s night tale, using the flashlight as a “magic spotlight.”
Download shadow theater for fairy tales for free
Penguin coloring page: download for free
A True Tale: Real Facts That Come Alive on the Page
My New Year’s true-fairy tale is not pure invention from beginning to end. Here is what is real within it:
- Galindez Island and the “Akademik Vernadsky” station: a real place in Antarctica where a Ukrainian scientific station operates.
- 7,000 penguins: the island truly hosts a vast rookery of subantarctic penguins who return here each year to breed.
- The southernmost bar, “Faraday”: the legendary station bar really exists, and the polar explorers truly decorate it!
- The penguin effect: the behavior described, when birds hesitate to be the first to jump into the water, is a genuine zoological fact—a protective mechanism against predators.
- Leopard seals and crevasses: these are real dangers faced by the inhabitants and researchers of Antarctica.
And finally, the main fact that inspired this New Year’s animal tale: the anomalously early birth of the first penguin chick of the new 2025 season.
Stay on the site! It’s wonderfully interesting and unusual here.
Website author: Natalka Ukraine. Over 25 years of teaching experience, author of educational materials for children aged 0 to 6. Each fairy tale and game is created with love so that children can learn through play and parents can enjoy the joy of joint creativity. Bookmark the website to stay with us!
