Puffins. By Speedboat.
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Puffin Tour. Here is what nobody tells you about puffins. They are small. Smaller than you think. They fly like they are brand new at it, because honestly, they kind of are at everything except swimming.
We took a speedboat out to the island. The water was cold. The wind did not care about my hair. Then the cliffs showed up, covered in little black-and-white birds who looked very busy and very confused at the same time.
I get it, puffin. Same.
They burrow into the cliffs. They mate for life. They carry a dozen fish in their beak at once and still look surprised about it. Glytja would respect the work ethic. She would not respect the panic.
Worth the cold. Worth the boat. Worth every windblown minute.
More from the trek soon. The herd is waiting for the rest of the story too.
Boss Mare. She doesn't ask twice.