I know, I know. All any of you have ever wanted from this silly travelogue is pictures of Puffins. Well, today is your lucky day. An entire post dedicated to The Atlantic Puffin.

Here in Iceland there are tens of thousands of them. RBD got pooped on by one, which means six more weeks of Iceland. It’s mating season, and they have returned to the cliffs to bring forth a new generation. We know they’re mating because of their extremely colorful beaks. The colors fade later in the year. Really, the outer layers just shed. Puffins mate in “puffineries,” usually on coastal cliffs or islands. Interestingly, they are monogamous and return to the same general site every year. They nest by burrowing in-between the rocks. Sadly, we didn’t see any young. I imagine it’s too soon.

The parents were busy, though. Thousands of birds were flying around from nest to ocean with food for their young. Puffins are remarkable divers. They can dive to 200 feet in search of small fish, their primary diet. Their wings function as flippers underwater, enabling them to “glide” through the water.