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.

 

Owl Awareness Day 2026

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

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.


 

Hummingbirds Are Back: The Tiny Travelers of Spring Migration

 


April Slips Away… and the Hummers ArriveMale Ruby Throasted hummingbirds have a brilliant iridescent red throat that looks dark when it’s not in good light.

April is winding down and we’re looking May right in the eye. That means one thing for Massachusetts nature lovers: the hummingbird migration has officially begun. The earliest sighting this year popped up during the week of April 20 — a tiny flash of iridescence announcing spring’s true arrival.

These remarkable birds spent the winter basking in Central America or Mexico. Olé indeed.

Daylight Flyers With a Need for Nectar

Hummingbirds migrate during the day, which means you can spot them flitting among early‑blooming flowers in search of energy‑rich nectar. And speaking of energy, these little dynamos are astonishing.

  • They can travel up to 23 miles in a single day
  • During their Gulf crossing, they may cover up to 500 miles at once
  • Their average flight speed is 20–30 mph, and during courtship dives they can triple that

The Physics-Defying Hummingbird Body

To pull off these long‑distance feats, a hummingbird’s body runs like a high‑performance engine:

  • Heart rate: up to 1,260 beats per minute
  • Wingbeats: 15 to 80 flaps per second
  • Breathing: about 150 breaths per minute

Tiny birds, enormous stats.

Fun Facts About Our Feathered Friends

A few more delightful tidbits to impress your fellow bird‑watchers:

  1. They remember every feeder they’ve ever visited
  2. “Hummer” is both a giant SUV and a birder’s nickname for hummingbirds
  3. They’re awake during the day and sleep at night
  4. There are 350+ species of hummingbirds
  5. All hummingbirds are native to North or South America
  6. They love sugar (relatable)
  7. Natural nectar is clear — no need for red dye
  8. Make your own nectar: 4 parts water + 1 part white sugar, boiled and cooled
  9. They’re attracted to the color red
  10. They eat insects
  11. They visit 1,000 flowers a day
  12. Their wings beat thousands of times per minute
  13. They can’t walk or hop — their feet are for perching only
  14. They take about 150 breaths per minute
  15. A group of hummers is called a “charm”
  16. You can ID them with the free Audubon Bird Guide app

Get Your Yard Hummer‑Ready

So — are you ready for your feathered friends? Clean out that feeder, plant those nectar‑rich flowers, and roll out the red carpet. The tiny hummers are on their way, ready to grace your garden with their zip, sparkle, and charm. The first sighting in Plymouth, right down the raod, was April 22!

They really are happy little jewels flitting through the yard.

Welocme back little Hummers


 

Massachusetts’ Quiet Wildlife Spectacle- the Herring Run

“Close‑up of river herring packed together as they swim upstream through shallow, rippling water during the Massachusetts herring run.”


The Herring Run in Massachusetts: Spring’s Quiet Wildlife Spectacle

Every spring in Massachusetts, something ancient stirs beneath the surface of our rivers. As the water warms, thousands of river herring — alewives and blueback herring — return from the Atlantic to the exact freshwater streams where they were born. This annual migration, known simply as the herring run, is one of New England’s most reliable signs that winter is finally loosening its grip.

It’s a small miracle that happens in plain sight, and once you know it’s happening, you start to notice the subtle excitement in the air: the gulls gathering, the osprey circling, the water suddenly alive with silver flashes.


What Exactly Is a Herring Run?

River herring are diadromous fish, meaning they split their lives between saltwater and freshwater. They hatch in ponds and streams, spend their early months growing there, then head out to sea. After several years in the Atlantic, instinct pulls them back home to spawn the next generation.

Massachusetts sees two species:

  • Alewife (early spring)
  • Blueback herring (late spring)

The run typically begins in late March or early April and peaks through mid‑May, depending on water temperature.


Why the Herring Run Matters

The run isn’t just a quirky local event — it’s a cornerstone of the coastal ecosystem. River herring are a crucial food source for:

  • Osprey
  • Herons
  • Striped bass
  • Bluefish
  • Seals
  • River otters
  • And now, increasingly, bald eagles

When the herring return, everything else wakes up too. It’s the ecological equivalent of turning the lights back on after winter.


🦅 Bald Eagles and the Herring Run

One of the most exciting changes in recent years has been the return of bald eagles to southeastern Massachusetts. After disappearing from the state for decades, they’ve made a dramatic comeback thanks to conservation efforts — and the herring run is one of the seasonal events that draws them in.

During the run, eagles:

  • perch in tall riverside trees
  • watch for slowed or struggling fish
  • swoop down to grab herring near the surface
  • occasionally steal fish from gulls (which the gulls do not appreciate)

Seeing an eagle over the river in April has become one of those “I can’t believe this is Massachusetts” moments.


A Tale of Two Coasts: Herring Run vs. Salmon Run

If you’ve ever watched the dramatic salmon runs in Alaska or the Pacific Northwest — the leaping fish, the roaring rivers, the bears lined up like they’re at a sushi conveyor belt — you might assume the herring run is the same thing on a smaller scale.

It is similar… but also wonderfully different.

🐻 Pacific Northwest: Bears

Salmon runs attract grizzlies who stand in the river and casually pluck salmon out of the air. It’s peak nature‑documentary energy.

🕊️ New England: Seagulls

Here?
We get seagulls. Loud, pushy, unapologetic seagulls.
They’re not majestic, but they are extremely committed to the drama.

It’s less “National Geographic” and more “local gossip at the river.”

💀 Salmon die after spawning — herring don’t

Pacific salmon make one heroic, exhausting journey upstream and then die, feeding the ecosystem.

River herring?
They spawn, shake it off, and head back to sea. They can repeat the trip several times over their lifespan.

📏 Scale: Epic vs. Intimate

Salmon runs can look like the river is made of fish.
Herring runs are quieter — thousands, not millions — and concentrated at fish ladders and narrow channels. You can stand a few feet away and watch individual fish make their climb.

🗓️ Timing

  • Herring: early spring
  • Salmon: late summer into fall

So while the Pacific Northwest is gearing up for berry season and bears, we’re pulling on light jackets and heading to the fish ladder with coffee.


Do People Eat River Herring?

Historically, yes — they were smoked, salted, pickled, and even used as fertilizer. But today, harvesting river herring is banned in Massachusetts due to population declines.

So the only ones feasting during the run are:

  • gulls
  • osprey
  • herons
  • bald eagles
  • stripers waiting downstream

It’s a wildlife buffet, not a human one.


Where to See the Herring Run

Some of the best spots in Massachusetts include:

  • Oliver Mill Park, Middleboro — one of the most popular and photogenic
  • Mystic River & Mystic Lakes Dam, Medford
  • Parker River, Newbury
  • Town Brook, Plymouth

Each has fish ladders, viewing platforms, and plenty of opportunities for photos.

I’ve been watching the herring run for years, and every spring it feels like the river wakes up all at once. The gulls start screaming, the water churns, and suddenly you realize winter is officially over.