Category Archives: Birds

The Remarkable Return of Maine’s Puffins

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Five Atlantic puffins stand together on a large gray rock, their bright orange feet and colorful beaks contrasting with the muted stone. Green vegetation and blurred rocks fill the background, creating a natural coastal island setting.

 

A Personal Puffin Prelude

A scattered group of seabirds floats on choppy ocean water, bobbing among small waves. The birds are spaced across the frame, creating a sense of movement and open sea.I’ve shared my own puffin‑chasing adventures in Maine — from the fog‑soaked boat ride to Eastern Egg Rock to the wild, wind‑whipped journey out to Machias Seal Island in Canadian waters. Those trips were unforgettable, and they gave me the chance to photograph the clowns of the sea up close.

But I don’t think I’ve ever told the story behind why puffins disappeared from Maine in the first place, or how they eventually came home. It’s a tale equal parts heartbreaking and hopeful — and a reminder that humans can cause great harm, but also great healing.

When Feathers Became FashionAn illustrated group of five women wearing elaborate late‑19th‑century hats, each decorated with feathers, bows, or plumes. The women are dressed in high‑collared blouses with lace and ruffles, showcasing the ornate fashion styles of the era.

To understand the puffins’ disappearance, we have to step back to the late 1800s, when extravagant feathered hats were the height of fashion. Women’s hats weren’t just decorated — they were practically entire bird displays. Egrets were especially prized, but they weren’t the only victims.

A feather census in New York City once documented more than 700 women wearing hats adorned with feathers from roughly 40 native bird species. Herons, owls, woodpeckers — all were hunted, plucked, and sold to meet the demand.

Feathers became a global commodity. When the Titanic sailed on its maiden voyage, it carried more than 40 cases of millinery feathers destined for New York. Adjusted for today’s value, those crates were insured for over $2.3 million. In 1912, only diamonds were worth more pound for pound.

The Puffins Pay the Price

An Atlantic puffin stands on a pale rock near the ocean, its bright orange feet and colorful beak contrasting with the blue water in the background.Atlantic puffins once thrived on islands throughout the Gulf of Maine. But the feather trade wasn’t their only threat. Puffins were also hunted for meat and eggs, and their colonies were systematically wiped out.

At the same time, humans were destroying tern colonies — not realizing that terns acted as natural security guards. Without terns to chase off gulls, eagles, and other predators, puffins had no protection. They abandoned their nesting islands.

By the early 1900s, puffins had vanished entirely from the United States.

A Graduate Student With a Big Idea

Fast‑forward to 1971. Stephen Kress, then a young ornithology graduate student from Cornell, was working as a wildlifeAn Atlantic puffin stands on a rocky surface holding several small fish in its colorful beak. Its bright orange feet contrast with the muted rocks, and the scene reflects the bird’s natural coastal habitat. instructor in Maine. He learned that puffins once bred on Eastern Egg Rock, just six miles away — but hadn’t returned in nearly a century.

That discovery lit a fire in him.

Kress launched what became known as Project Puffin, an ambitious effort to reestablish a breeding colony on Eastern Egg Rock. Because puffins spend most of the year floating on the open ocean and only return to land to breed, he had a narrow window — April through August — to make the island feel like home.

The Early Experiments

An Atlantic puffin stands on a rocky surface, its bright orange feet and colorful beak vivid against the gray stones. Mossy patches on the rocks hint at its natural coastal habitat.

Kress and his team built artificial burrows and hand‑raised puffin chicks brought from Newfoundland. Between 1973 and 1981, they transplanted 954 pufflings to Eastern Egg Rock.

The chicks fledged successfully… but none returned to breed.

Mirrors, decoys, artificial burrows — nothing convinced the puffins to stay. For years, Egg Rock was a place to visit, not a place to raise a family.

The Turning Point

Everything changed in 1980 when terns — absent since 1936 — suddenly began nesting on Eastern Egg Rock again. TheirA tern flies low over rippling ocean water with its wings spread wide, holding a small fish in its beak as droplets fall beneath it. return created the protective environment puffins needed.

And then, in 1981, the miracle happened: the first puffling was raised on Egg Rock by puffin parents.

That single chick marked the beginning of a comeback no one had thought possible.

A close-up portrait of an Atlantic puffin, its bright orange-and-red beak and black-and-white plumage sharply detailed against a softly blurred background.A Colony Reborn

Today, Eastern Egg Rock hosts a thriving puffin colony along with roseate terns, black guillemots, razorbills, and other seabirds. Across five Maine islands, there are now roughly 1,300 breeding pairs of Atlantic puffins.

A species once wiped out from U.S. waters is now restored — thanks to persistence, science, and a whole lot of hope.

A Welcome Home

It’s one of the greatest conservation success stories in North America. The puffins — those bright‑beaked, clumsy, wonderful little birds — are back where they belong.

And every time I see them, whether bobbing on the waves or hopping into their burrows with a beak full of fish, I’m reminded that sometimes humans really can fix what humans broke.

An Atlantic puffin floats on calm ocean water, holding several small silver fish in its colorful beak. Its black-and-white plumage contrasts with the rippled blue surface around it.

WMEO BREAKING NEWS ALERT – Nature Desk – A Golden Penguin

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A bold red and orange graphic displaying the words “Breaking News” in large white capital letters with dynamic streaks suggesting urgency.

 

A newsroom desk with a microphone and papers arranged neatly on top, featuring a blue WMEO 9 logo on the front and a blurred wall of screens in the background.

WMEO BREAKING NEWS ALERT – Nature Desk

— We Meow, You Listen

 

Golden Penguin Sighted

An orange cat zooms across the WMEO 9 news desk during a live broadcast while a black cat hides underneath the desk, peeking out toward the camera.

The newsroom is in chaos this morning as a rare and radiant visitor makes headlines. Co‑anchors Banner and Balboa are all a‑twitter — literally and figuratively. Meanwhile, Balboa has already taken shelter under the News Desk, while Banner has completed two full laps of zoomies around the studio.

As a result, if everyone can please regain composure, we’ll begin our report.

 

 

Banner:

Good morning, viewers. We have extraordinary news from Mother Nature — a discovery more rare than a GoldenAn orange cat and a black cat sit behind the WMEO 9 news desk like anchors, with a microphone and papers in front of them and a blurred newsroom backdrop behind the desk. Compass, more serene than a Golden Pond, and more unexpected than a Golden Child. Moreover, this marvel is a one‑in‑30,000 phenomenon, and to the best of our knowledge, has never been documented before.

It’s a Golden Penguin.

Balboa:

Yes, you heard that correctly. A real golden penguin. This particular bird is believed to be the first confirmed sighting, and it has ignited scientific curiosity across the globe.

Banner:

The penguin’s striking coloration comes from a condition called leucism, which affects pigmentation and results in that stunning golden hue.

Balboa:

The bird was spotted among roughly 120,000 king penguins on a remote island — a single shimmering beacon in a sea of black‑and‑white tuxedos.

A rare yellow‑and‑white penguin standing on a rocky shoreline near the ocean, its bright coloration contrasting with the dark pebbles and waves behind it.

Banner:

However, although the penguin was first seen in April 2025, the story didn’t travel fast. Consequently, only now is it spreading through the news feed, capturing hearts and headlines alike.

Balboa:

Such beauty. Such rarity. WMEO salutes this golden wonder of the natural world.

An orange cat and a black cat sit behind the WMEO 9 news desk in a studio setting, with a message on the front panel that reads “Thank you for watching.”

This has been a WMEO Breaking News Alert from the Nature Desk.

We Meow. You Listen.

 

 

A Puffin Adventure 10 years Later

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Five Atlantic puffins standing on rocky coastal terrain with green vegetation, photographed on Machias Seal Island by Deb Neumann.

A Puffin Flashback Adventure

I fancy myself a wildlife photographer in my dreams. In my imagination, I’m off on Nat Geo expeditions, trekking through jungles and tundra, capturing rare animals in perfect light. Maybe I’m practicing for my next life, when I finally get to take great safaris to exotic places and photograph creatures in all their glory.

But in real life, I’m just regular old me — and yet there was one trip that did feel like a true adventure. One trip where I actually got to photograph amazing wildlife. Yes, they were birds… but very special birds. I got to see puffins.

You don’t find puffins in your neighbor’s backyard. You have to work for puffins, and believe me, I did.

Attempt #1: Eastern Egg Rock — Fog, Waves, and Bumblebees With Wings

My first attempt was a boat tour out of Bar Harbor, Maine, to Eastern Egg Rock in 2015. The entire trip was on a boat, and once we left the harbor, the ocean turned rough. As we neared the island, the fog rolled in — thick, cold, and absolutely relentless. A wet blanket in every sense.

But the puffins didn’t care. They were all around us, tiny little bumblebees with feathers. Round bodies, small wings, and yet these miniature sea birds spend most of the year at sea. They only come ashore during their breeding season, which in Maine is July.

I spent most of the trip flattened on the bow, trying to steady my camera with a 600mm lens while the boat rocked and rolled under me. The puffins were tiny specks in the distance, and most of my photos ended up soft or blurry. It was exhilarating — no question — but from a photography standpoint, it was more “experience” than “results.”

I was disappointed, but not defeated.

Attempt #2: Machias Seal Island — A True Adventure

I’d been a Mass Audubon member for years, mostly for access to their wildlife sanctuaries. Shortly after my Egg Rock trip, I heard about their annual July bird‑watching trip. I’d missed it in 2015, but I had almost a year to prepare for 2016 — if they held it again.

I became the biggest nuisance in the history of the local chapter. I called. I emailed. I checked in constantly. And when they finally announced the trip, I was the first person to sign up.

This trip was farther north, deep into the disputed waters between the Bay of Fundy and the Gulf of Maine. Machias Seal Island is jointly managed by the U.S. and Canada, and access is extremely limited. Most tours depart from New Brunswick, but there is one U.S. operator — and that’s who Audubon contracted with.

It was a true adventure‑style trip, the kind that stays with you. Cold weather even in July, rocking boats and tenders that made you hold onto your hat, and wildlife everywhere. Eagles overhead, seals on the rocks, and of course the puffins — those little clowns of the sea.

And although I didn’t get to witness it firsthand, the Bay of Fundy is home to the highest tides on earth, often reaching around 40 feet. Just knowing I was in a place with that kind of natural power added to the feeling of being somewhere wild and extraordinary.

The Crossing

We boarded the tiny boat at dawn for a very cold, rough, windy trip from Cutler, Maine. The crossing is about an hour — a very long hour when your seat is out in the open. The only warmth was in the wheelhouse, where the captain and mate stayed tucked away.

As soon as we reached the island, we saw birds everywhere: gannets, razorbills, and even a seal stranded high on a ledge, left behind by the receding tide. But the puffins ruled the day. They were everywhere.

Into the Blinds

Once off the rocking boat and into a tender, we were ferried to a long boardwalk that snaked up toward the lighthouse. The organizers assigned us to blinds — tiny wooden huts where we’d spend the next two hours. We couldn’t leave, and we could only open the windows on one side at a time. The restrictions were for the puffins’ comfort and safety, but even so, it was an incredible show.

Birds were landing on the roof of the blind. Their feet made strange scratching sounds  mixed with the thumps of thier landings. It was surreal. It would make a great horror sound track.

The puffins were in their courting colors — bright orange beaks and matching feet. They were beautiful. Clumsy little birds flying in with beaks full of shrimp and fish. Two hops and they disappeared into their rock burrows.

The time passed quickly, and too soon we were escorted back to our little boat for the long, cold trip to Cutler. It was even colder in the late afternoon, but as miserable as the weather was, I would repeat that trip in a heartbeat.

For those two hours, I really felt like a wildlife photographer — living my dream.

Ten Years Later

Machias Seal Island was 2016. Ten years ago. Audubon still runs puffin trips in July — mostly the gentler Eastern Egg Rock style ones — but Machias Seal Island remains the same rugged, wild adventure it’s always been. Tiny boats. Rocking tenders. Cold winds. A landing that requires balance, grit, and a good sense of humor.

And I’ll be honest: I’m not entirely sure I could manage the rocking boats and tenders now, ten years later. Even if I could I’d still have the climb to the lighthouse that nearly did me in 10 years ago.

But I’d sure like to try.

 

Owl Awareness Day 2026

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A great horned owl perched on a wooden surface in a sunlit forest, showing its orange eyes, feathered ear tufts, and mottled brown plumage with detailed texture.

Great Horned Owl- photo credit Deb Neumann

🦉 August 4th • International Owl Awareness Day

European Barn Owl = photo credit Deb Neumann

Today we celebrate one of nature’s most extraordinary nocturnal hunters — the owl. Beyond their iconic stare and ghost‑silent glide, owls play a crucial ecological role and face growing threats worldwide.

🌙 What Makes Owls Amazing

  • Silent Flight: Fringed wing feathers and soft down absorb sound, letting owls swoop in like feathery ninjas.
  • Tube‑Shaped Eyes: Their eyes aren’t round — they’re long, fixed tubes. Owls can’t swivel them, so they rotate their whole head instead.
  • 270° Neck Rotation: With 14 neck vertebrae (double ours), owls can turn their heads almost all the way around without cutting off blood flow.
  • Asymmetrical Ears: Offset ear openings let them triangulate sound in 3D, locating prey under snow, leaves, or darkness.
  • Reversible Toes: Their zygodactyl grip lets them rotate an outer toe backward for a perfect “grab‑anything” hold.

Great Horned owl – photo credit Deb Neumann

🌾 Why Owls Matter

  • Natural Pest Control: One owl family can devour 1,000+ rodents a year, reducing the need for chemical pest control.
  • Declining Populations: Roughly a third of native owl species are experiencing population drops.

🛡️ How You Can Help

American Barn Owl -photo credit Deb Neumann

  • Skip rodenticides — poisoned rodents = poisoned owls.
  • Install nest boxes where natural tree hollows are scarce.
  • Keep cats indoors to protect fledglings and small wildlife.

🦉I leave you with this thought on Owl Awareness Day

Real owls may not deliver mail like Hedwig, but they do deliver pest control, ecological balance, and some of the coolest adaptations in the animal kingdom. Celebrate them today by learning, sharing, and helping keep their habitats safe.

female snowy owl in flight-photo internet

Wild Encounters: From Squirrels to Whales

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A great egret snatches a bit of hot dog, its yellow eye bright against the blurred green marsh.

When the Words Wander

Some mornings the words just pour out of me, and other mornings — like today — they wander off to do their own thing. I sat down wanting to write about a picture of a squirrel. Just a little gray squirrel. Nothing dramatic. But nature has a way of turning simple moments into something special.

A Squirrel in the Morning Light

It was early. The cats had dragged me out of bed, and I was opening the blinds over the sliders to the deck. The sun was just coming up, the air crisp and soft in that way only early morning can be. And that’s when I saw him.

He wasn’t racing along the fence or scrambling up a tree. He was perched perfectly still on top of an old tree stump — one of those storm‑fallen trees that had been trimmed back for safety. It made the perfect pedestal. The rising sun lit him from behind, turning his tail into a glowing halo. Whether you like squirrels or not, you had to appreciate that pristine moment.

The Scramble for the Camera

He was too far for a phone shot, so I reached for my Nikon. One quick look at the settings and… no battery. Of course. I dug into the camera bag, found my spare, and swapped it in. I haven’t used that camera in a couple of years, but muscle memory kicked right in. I was sure I’d missed the moment — but no. My little friend was still there, still posing. I got one shot off, and then he was gone, down the stump and into the brush. Banner wound around my feet, completely uninterested in the tiny drama unfolding outside.

Why Nature Photography Hooks Me

But that’s nature photography. Woodland creatures don’t care if they look fat or skinny or if they’re smiling. They don’t pose. They don’t wait. They just go on doing their little woodland things. That’s what makes it fun — and challenging.

The Ones That Get Away

I’ve had so many moments like that. At the Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary in Marshfield, I’ve seen turtles, deer, birds… and once, three otters ran right across the path in front of me and dove into the pond. No picture, just a perfect memory. That’s how it goes. In nature, the moment happens fast and often without warning. I rarely catch those surprise encounters — they’re over before my brain even registers them.

 

The Rare Gifts

Bear Up a tree

Then there are the rare gifts. Like the time I was driving a dirt road in Wyoming and came upon a little bear in a tree, happily eating berries. He didn’t care that he had an audience. I got my shot that day.

The Long-Awaited Moments

And then there are the moments you wait years for. I went on whale watches every year from the mid‑70s on — Massachusetts, Alaska, Hawaii. Decades of trips. But I never saw a whale breach until just a few years ago. First a baby humpback in Hawaii, then an adult off Cape Cod. And once I finally saw one, it was like the universe opened the floodgates. Suddenly I was seeing breaches everywhere — and because I was ready, I finally captured one of my favorite photos.Breaching Whale

Why I Keep Picking Up the Camera

I have so many stories like that — some with pictures to show for them, some that live only in my memory. But every one of them is a wonderful little interaction with the natural world. And that’s why I keep picking up the camera.