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Atlantic Puffins I
A pair of Atlantic puffins launches from the cliff’s edge, their black-and-white bodies cutting through the wind. Small, stubborn wings beat against the salt-heavy air, driven by instinct rather than grace. Unlike gulls, they don’t soar in lazy arcs or spiral skyward. Puffins churn forward, direct, skimming low over the churning sea, their bright beaks flashing like warning flags. They dive, plunging like stones into the dark waters, chasing fish, then bob back to the surface, shaking water from their heads. Their flight isn’t romantic. It’s work, muscle and hunger, a fight for survival.