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Some events I will never forget; like my first encounter with a puffin.

Our first night at Runde; bleak and gray. Just after half past nine at the border of the colony. Not a single puffin had landed yet and we only saw them fly by at a distance.

Then abruptly one plops down at the bottom of a large rock a few meters beside me. He (or is it a she?) looks briefly at me. Does he blame me his bad landing because I had startled him by my presence?
Then he looks to the top of the stone and suddenly he shivers. All his neck and back feathers bristle.
Clumsily he hobbles up, bends over, picks up something and turns to me. With a soft grunting sound, he shows me with a sad face the remains of what probably once was a puffin. Maybe even his partner.
Then, very carefully, he puts the remains down again. Distracted he looks about, turns around and disappears into a hole behind the rock.

It didn’t take two minutes but made an indelible impression on me. I still get the chills when I think of this encounter.


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