A Puffin Adventure 10 years Later

 

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 sounds 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.

 

The Reality Behind the Shot- Wildlife Photography Tales

A large brown bear moves through dense autumn foliage, its head visible among branches covered in bright orange leaves.

The Truth About Wildlife Photography (As Told by a T‑Shirt)

Red fox baby on MondayEvery once in a while, something comes along that perfectly sums up an entire hobby. For wildlife photography, it isn’t a dramatic eagle shot or a fox leaping through golden light — it’s a T‑shirt. A T‑shirt that insists photography is simply “being in the right place at the right time”… followed by a dozen more “right” things, from the lens to the batteries to the background to the angle. It’s funny because it’s true, and every wildlife photographer knows it.

Why This T‑Shirt Gets It Right

People love to say, “Wow, you must have been lucky to get that shot.” Luck plays a part, sure, but it’s the smallest slice of the pie. Wildlife photography is mostly patience, persistence, and a willingness to stand in uncomfortable places for long stretches of time while your subject does absolutely nothing. It’s waiting for the light to cooperate, adjusting settings on the fly, and hoping your batteries don’t die at the exact moment a squirrel finally decides to pose. (Click Here for my squirrel Story)

The wildlife itself adds a whole extra layer of unpredictability. Animals don’t care about your perfect composition or your carefully chosen lens. They wander off, turn around, hide behind rocks, or stare at you like you’re interrupting their day. Sometimes they give you the “I might charge you” look, and suddenly the shot doesn’t seem quite so important anymore.

And yet, we keep doing it. Because every once in a while, everything lines up — the light, the moment, the subject, the settings, the batteries, and your own stubborn determination. You get the shot that makes all the waiting, sweating, freezing, and gear‑lugging worth it. (Having the right gear is very helpful too)

That’s why this T‑shirt is so perfect. It doesn’t glamorize wildlife photography. It doesn’t pretend it’s easy. It simply tells the truth with a wink: it takes a whole lot more than being in the right place at the right time. It takes all the “right” things coming together at once — and a photographer who’s willing to chase them.

Disclosure:

Some links in this post are affiliate links. If you decide to buy something through them, I may receive a small commission — it helps support the site and my photography adventures, at no extra cost to you. Team Arounddustyroads thanks you

 

Yellowstone: Rare, Majestic and Dangerous

Old Faithful doing what it does best: rising, roaring, and reminding everyone why Yellowstone is one of the most extraordinary places on Earth.

Yellowstone’s Summer of Chaos: Bison, Biscuit Basin, and a Park That’s Very Much Alive

Yellowstone is having quite a year. If national parks had mood rings, Yellowstone’s would be flashing “I’m busy, please stop poking things.” Between the bison‑tourist incidents and the ongoing hydrothermal drama at Biscuit Basin, the park seems determined to remind everyone that it is a wild, volcanic landscape — not a petting zoo with scenic views.

The Bison Situation

Before the ChargeEvery summer, Yellowstone’s bison attempt to teach tourists the same lesson: You cannot take a selfie with a 2,000‑pound animal.

And every summer, at least a few tourists decide to test that theory. This year has already seen multiple injuries, each one a variation of the classic Yellowstone story: human gets too close, bison reacts like a bison, and rangers sigh deeply.

I can personally attest that bison are grouchy and it doesn’t take much to set them off. I wrote about my own close call in Yellowstone Wildlife Adventure — and that day, I genuinely thought I might become the next chapter in Death in Yellowstone.  Once you’ve had a bison give you “the look,” you never underestimate them again.

Meanwhile, Over in Biscuit Basin…

While the bison handle crowd control, Biscuit Basin has been busy doing its own thing — which apparently involves hydrothermal explosions.

Not geysers. Not bubbling mud pots. Actual steam‑powered blasts that throw rocks, open new vents, and send milky plumes drifting down the Firehole River.

A major explosion in 2024 damaged the boardwalk (no injuries, thankfully), and the area has been closed ever since. Then 2026 arrived with a whole series of smaller explosions, including one in June that created new runoff channels and set off seismic instruments. Scientists say it’s all normal behavior for Yellowstone’s hot‑water system — unpredictable, shifting, and very much alive.

Is the Volcano Waking Up?

No. The scientists at the Yellowstone Volcano Observatory have been very clear: This is hydrothermal mischief, not volcanic unrest.

The magma chamber is quiet. The volcano alert level is normal. The aviation code is green. Yellowstone is simply doing what Yellowstone does — rearranging its plumbing.

Old Faithful, the Reliable One

With everything else acting up, Old Faithful is the only one behaving. It’s still erupting right on schedule, as if saying, “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m literally the only stable thing here.”

If Old Faithful ever did stop erupting, half the country would panic, and scientists would have to explain that it’s just taking a break. (That’s a joke — please don’t start packing emergency kits.)

So What’s Next?

Probably more of the same:

  • Bison being bison
  • Tourists being tourists
  • Biscuit Basin continuing its dramatic steam‑powered soap opera
  • And Old Faithful rolling its eyes at all of it

Yellowstone isn’t having “problems.” Yellowstone is simply reminding us who’s boss.

If You Go

Yellowstone is beautiful, majestic, and unlike anything you’ll probably ever see again — but it’s also dangerous. The park is filled with wildlife that would happily make a snack out of a careless human, and hydrothermal features that can change or erupt without warning.

 

 

If you visit:

  • Follow every park rule. They exist because the landscape doesn’t play nice.
  • Listen to the rangers. They know what’s safe, what’s not, and what’s about to become a problem.
  • Give wildlife space. A bison may look slow and peaceful, but trust me — they can turn grouchy in a heartbeat. (Yellowstone has bear and wolves too)
  • Stay on boardwalks and marked trails. The ground in Yellowstone is thin, hot, and unpredictable.

Respect the park, and Yellowstone will reward you with one of the most unforgettable experiences of your life.

WMEO News Update — Elephant Migration Exhibit Joins Boston Tours

WMEO Newsroom with Anchors Banner and Balboa, cats

WMEO News Update — Elephant Migration Exhibit Joins Boston Tours

The traveling Elephant Migration Exhibit is heading to Boston, and longtime local guide Christian V. — a 25‑year veteran with GoWithGuide — has confirmed he’ll be incorporating the exhibit into his popular Boston–Cambridge Tour while it’s in town.

Christian, known for his comfortable demeanor and excellent reviews, has spent decades sharing Boston’s Revolutionary history and Cambridge’s world‑famous academic landmarks. His tour typically explores key historic sites in Boston before continuing on to Harvard and MIT.

With the Elephant Migration Exhibit temporarily joining the city’s cultural landscape, Christian says guests will get an added layer of storytelling: a blend of Boston history, Cambridge intellect, and a rare wildlife‑focused experience right in the heart of the city.

WMEO will continue to follow the elephants as they “migrate” into Massachusetts.

 

This has Been a WMEO 9 News Update

Some links or mentions related to tours or services may be affiliate-based, meaning WMEO/ arounddustyroads may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. This helps support our ongoing coverage and creative projects. Thank you

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WMEO 9 BREAKING NEWS- Back Bay Braces for… Elephants?

Filed by Anchors Banner & Balboa Dateline: Commonwealth Avenue Mall, Boston.. WMEO 9  We Meow-You Listen

🎙️ Banner (Orange, Overcaffeinated, Zero Chill):

LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND ALL WHO APPRECIATE A GOOD PARADE OF ABSURDITY— We interrupt your regularly scheduled bird‑watching to report that Boston has officially lost its mind.

Moving trucks are clogging Back Bay again, but instead of college kids hauling futons, they’re unloading elephants. Not real ones. But 100 life‑sized elephant sculptures, which is somehow even more chaotic because you can’t bribe them with peanuts to move.

I repeat: ONE HUNDRED ELEPHANTS. FIVE BLOCKS. This is the greatest thing to happen to Boston since someone finally fixed the Green Line.

I attempted to climb one for “journalistic purposes” but was removed by a volunteer who said, and I quote, “Sir, please stop narrating loudly.” I regret nothing.

🎙️ Balboa (Black, Soft‑Spoken, Perpetually Worried):

Thank you, Banner. I would like to reassure viewers that these elephants are friendly, quiet, and unlikely to bite—unlike some anchors I could name.

The installation is part of The Great Elephant Migration, a global fundraising initiative bringing awareness to conservation efforts. The sculptures will line the Commonwealth Avenue Mall, creating a peaceful, tree‑lined corridor of gentle giants.

I personally inspected the scene. The elephants appear sturdy, respectful, and uninterested in stealing anyone’s kitty grass. I approve this event.

However, I must note that the moving trucks were loud, and I hid behind a hydrangea for several minutes. This is normal. This is fine.

🎙️ Banner (interrupting):

BALBOA HID BEHIND A HYDRANGEA. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.

🎙️ Balboa:

Please ignore him. We encourage all residents to visit the installation, take photos, and appreciate the artistry—while also remembering that climbing the elephants is not allowed, even if you are a very handsome orange cat with a press badge.

A grassy slope in front of a large brick building is filled with dozens of life‑sized elephant sculptures. The sculptures vary in size and pose, arranged across the lawn and near rocky areas at the bottom of the hill. The scene looks like a herd moving together, but the elephants are clearly art installations rather than real animals. The contrast between the realistic sculptures and the formal building behind them creates a striking, surreal visual.

WMEO 9 SIGN‑OFF

This has been Banner & Balboa reporting live from Back Bay. End of bulletin. Please resume your regularly scheduled scrolling.