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Like Roger Dangerfield -- "They get no respect."
Attractively adorned like a tropical parrot, multifaceted athleticism similar to the iron man marathon, aquatic performance second to no other avian, and still they are forced to carry the name "Clowns of the Sea."
They summer in Kamchatka an Arctic region by the Bering sea where active volcanoes melt away the frozen barren tundra, magically creating a productive green garden oasis that exists in stark contrast to that foreboding ambiance and provides the perfect background for our incongruous species. They join up with their spouses after a year apart to perform their annual mating ritual, clean up their regular summer villa and prepare for the birth of the next generation.
They clack their vivid grooved beaks together to signal their instinctive foreplay, a land animal again if only for a short period of time.
One to five eggs, the result of their romantic interlude, are maintained by each spouse while the other partakes in the plentiful local marine harvest. The newborn babies then remain in the burrow of the cliff as the parents try to feed their voracious appetite. It requires both parents to maintain these fast growing newborns.
A typical day starts with the bright orange web feet of the parents skipping awkwardly over the rock formations. Their triangular aerodynamic structure is barely adequate for flight, because their creator had so many compromises to make in the original design. With this knowledge, our colorful characters walk to the cliff where they launch themselves off the edge to become airborne. Then in flight, using incredible eye sight, they carefully survey the water surfaces for schools of small fish that are plentiful during the spring season. With a target in sight they descend with the resolve of dive bombers, and powerfully enter the cold clear water, where they now become the masters of their element. These unique submergibles who can dive one hundred and fifty feet deep and match the speed of their prey, are at their best unfortunately, when no one can see them.
To add to their mystique they wear the camouflage-attire nature blessed them with. White underneath so the shark looking up thinks they are part of the sky, while predators above see their black side which blends in with the sea.
Uniquely qualified to hold and catch their fish due to the spines on their tongues and mouths, these gifted hunters can store several small fish neatly in their mouths while pursuing further prey.
When they reach the surface of the water, each will have twelve to twenty fish writhing wildly in their bright orange beaks. The difficult part of their mission is just beginning. Instinctively they head into the wind to gain lift, but flight is a real challenge for these awkward avians. The brilliant colored feet become almost transparent as they tear through the water like motorboats. Sometimes it seems like they run half way home before their complicated body structure becomes airborne. They then fly slowly through the windy sea air, presenting the opportunity of a lifetime for every bully sea gull who wants to rob them on their way home. Feathered thieves harass them all the way back and they have less than half of their catch when they arrive at their nursery in the cliffs.
These Tufted Puffins have a Latin name -- Fratercula cirrhata. Fratercula meaning little brother or friar because of their habit of folding their feet together prayer like when they are standing idle, and their black and white appearance resembling a cleric's clothing. With this in mind we are reminded of the miracles of the great fisherman, Saint Peter, who distributed so many fish to so many people that they believed it was a miracle. Likewise the Puffin, a most gifted fisherman, with only a small family to feed, ends up distributing many fish to the multitudes. One might wonder if the brightly colored tufted puffins who revert to darker colors in the winter have been marked by nature in bright spring time garb to distinguish them as some kind of beacon of hope in the food chain.
Near the end of the short Arctic summer, Mother Puffin will sneak her young pufflings down to the water under cover of dark to avoid any predators. This new generation is then totally on their own and will not return to this traditional site for several years, by which time they are mature enough to breed themselves.
Time to close down the summer villa. They climb clumsily across the rocks, and fall ungracefully into the water. Ma and Pa say their adieus for another year -- now there's an arrangement. Now at peace in the sea, our feathered friends take a moment to reflect on this summer saga. With unattractive features that are called clown like, limited ability to navigate land and air to the point where the Puffin are almost handicapped, and yet they have become one of the most productive species in their summer colony. There is a meaningful lesson to be learned from the Puffin.
Dick Ross 2001 All Rights Reserved Scottsdale, Arizona
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