The hunters’ argument was crushingly straightforward:
1. There are so few young puffins around that it will be hard to catch them.
2. That means a hunting season will have no discernible effect on puffin numbers.
3. Ergo, hunting should be allowed.
If that sort of logic makes a screeching sound in your head, it’s just the collision between the way things have always been and the way things are now. A symptom of the insane human ability to ignore a calamity just because it interferes with tradition.
But killing puffins?
They’re one of the few species the non-binocular-wearing public can get excited about. Squat little guys in orange gumboots with fish crammed in their beaks. They weigh about a pound with all their feathers on. To us, eating them is grotesque. In Iceland, they’ve been a source of protein for 1,000 years.
Maybe you have to be Icelandic to get why.

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