First off, a big, big thank you for all the kind words after my previous essay about Tjöruhúsið. It’s the kind of feature and project that I love working on and putting out into the world. When it happens to resonate with others, well, that feels pretty damn good. Your membership and support helps makes this kind of storytelling happen, so thank you again. The second part should be out soon! But for now, some images.

One of life’s truisms is that every day we all inch closer to becoming birders. One day, around your 30s, you’re appreciating a good chirp and next thing you know, you’re downloading the Merlin Bird ID app. I don’t know, maybe it’s their ability to fly, or escape, that becomes more appealing as we enter years of burden and responsibility. Whatever it is, there’s some biological urge that slowly nudges us towards admiring the creatures of the sky.

I first noticed the avian pull in Ecuador a couple of years back. Steph and I were in a hostel in Cotopaxi enjoying a family-style dinner with a bunch of barely 20-year-old Dutch youths, still wet behind the ears. Okay, they weren’t all Dutch, but certainly European - there are places in the world where you just don’t find young American travelers (perhaps a topic for a different essay).

Though there was one other American couple at the table with us. They were from upstate New York, retired, and enjoying some extended travel. Being the elder statesmen in the room, we bonded and started talking. They had come to Ecuador specifically for the birdwatching - the country is one of the most biodiverse on the planet, home to over 1,600 different species of birds. At one point they pulled out a photo of a Sword-billed Hummingbird they’d seen a few days earlier. I remember thinking, “man, that is a cool looking bird,” and not too long after I did indeed download the Merlin Bird ID app. I still wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m a birder. I’m a degenerate who likes to sleep for 10 hours and gets annoyed when I’m woken by incessant birdsong. But as someone who enjoys the outdoors, photography, travel, and is the ripe age of 33, I acknowledge it’s just a slow descent from here.

Anyway, during my road trip through the Westfjords, I headed south to the Látrabjarg cliffs to spot a somewhat elusive bird - the puffin.

A friendly reminder that paid members get a free print when they sign up! Hand printed and signed by yours truly, of course. So if you identify as a birder and/or would like a print of one of these puffins, sign up and let me know which one you fancy. Moreover paid memberships help keep the lights on around here and fund the big features and stories. So, if you appreciate the work, consider a paid membership.

Puffins are pelagic birds, meaning they live most of their lives on the water but for brief periods, typically May-September, they’ll come ashore to nest. Since it was early in the season (late-May), the puffins were gathering grass to build their summer homes.

One important tip for puffin spotting in Iceland is that they are most active in the evenings. All these photos were taken around 10 PM with the midnight sun casting a warm hue over the cliffs.

For the camera and photography folks out there, I was working with a 24-120mm lens, which allowed for a decent amount of detail on the birds. Of course, if you were really serious about puffins you’d probably want to opt for a lens with a little more reach, like something in the 200-600mm range. In any case, I was surprised how close you can actually get to the puffins in person, within six feet or so.

And apparently puffin chicks are known as “pufflings,” which feels important to know.

They seemed pretty unfazed by humans, more curious and watchful than anything.

If after all these images you find yourself thinking “man, that is a cool looking creature,” well then the puffin might be your gateway bird. Good luck.

See ya next week.

Skylar