On the small Welsh island of Skomer, puffin numbers are booming. But in former strongholds in Scotland, Norway and Iceland, the picture is ever more worryingBryony Baker lies spreadeagled at the edge of a cliff and reaches her hand deep into a hole in the ground that is almost entirely hidden beneath a clump of grass. She pushes futher in and her arm disappears up to the shoulder. It is a little like watching a vet getting up close and personal with a labouring cow. `Ouch!` she exclaims suddenly, her face creasing in pain. She pulls her arm out and inspects her fingers, already covered in scars. `That one´s definitely a puffin. They look sweet, but they can be pretty aggressive.`She presses her lips together in anticipation of another nip and pushes her hand in again. A large, dirty white egg emerges from the burrow - `warm, good` - and she places it safely on a cushion of moss. She reaches into the ground again. When she withdraws it, a second later, she´s holding an irritated puffin by its orange beak. She rings it, notes its number - this is now Bird EZ88918 - then gently replaces it and its precious egg in the burrow. Continue reading...
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