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Puffins

The puffin’s beak is bright:
Quince yellow stripes contrast
With chests of fluffy white
And wings of satin black,
But suit dense orange web feet.

When jauntily upcast,
Snouts call for tap and clack,
Long spells of smack and slap,
Headcracking snaps aback
As nozzles overlap
When friendly puffins meet.

Two solemnly flip-flap
In avid courtship hap,
Sway back and forth, repeat,
Misstep, prance, caper fast,
And bobble in delight
Then after eight weeks greet
One puffling to partake
Of prey fond parents eat.

Bills grasp the live repast:
Ten herring, smelt, or hake
Seized undersea can make
A fishing trip complete.
Flight homeward must be fleet
To balk a pirate drake
Who aims to snatch or shake
The piscatory treat.

Rock puffinries hold vast
Apartment blocks packed tight,
Where burrows dug are owned
By mates for life forthright;
In feathered nests high-toned,
For fifteen years their seat,
Kind harmony is honed.

Fratercula they’re classed,
These little brothers loaned
To us in kinless plight;
With portly grace endowed,
They ambulate, heads bowed,
Like Celtic monks brought back
In penance for faults past
To pray as erst they vowed
From beaks that glow at night
Among the puffin crowd
So simply unsurpassed.

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Margaret Coats lives in California.  She holds a Ph.D. in English and American Literature and Language from Harvard University.  She has retired from a career of teaching literature, languages, and writing that included considerable work in homeschooling for her own family and others. 

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45 Responses

  1. Daniel Kemper

    I’ve been trying to get out of myself lately and focus on beautiful things in the world around me and this poem was just the thing. All of the internal rhyming here was either a delightful frolic or an incredible headache to work in, but was the most enjoyable part of the poem for me. I also appreciate the craft of working with short lines and on top of that, packing them with detail.

    Two other things I liked were that just as I was working my way down the lines and enjoying the descriptions, I began to anthropomorphize the birds and think of human love … just as the reference to monks appeared. What timing! The second thing was that the picture seemed to me, when I stared at the eye seemed to have a person inside staring out. Very strange…

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Daniel, especially for appreciating internal rhymes. I did careful work (which was fun) in the second stanza-paragraph to alternate smack and slap sounds, because beak-slamming is a back-and-forth friendship ritual to puffins, here amicably intended for my fellow poets and readers. And you are right about the puffin eye shape. It does look like a triangular porthole where an interested sentry might be looking out!

      Reply
  2. Mia

    Beauty, simply unsurpassed. As usual the most apt illustration as well.
    It has led me to observe, appreciate and learn ,
    thank you.

    Reply
  3. Cynthia Erlandson

    Such a delighful romp with these sweet birds. I love your rhyme scheme!

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Cynthia! Your mention of the rhyme scheme gives me an opportunity to lay it out:

      abacd
      bceced
      eedbadfd
      bffddffd
      bagagdg
      bgahhcbhahb

      It’s quite irregular, beginning with four rhyme sounds in the first stanza-paragraph, and adding four more as needed for meaning and meter. This is still considerably fewer than rhyming couplets or quatrains. The effect (I hope) is one of frequent pleasant if unexpected echoes, bringing the entire poem together.

      Reply
  4. jd

    Loved learning about Puffins in such a
    disciplined creative way. Don’t know what made me begin reading it backwards but it worked for me that way too, especially the final strophe.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, jd. I’m happy to know that reading backwards worked (at least to some degree). With this poem of short lines, I tried to make each a little bit of meaning that wouldn’t depend on enjambment to make sense. There are a few necessary enjambments, but you found that the longest strophe worked without them!

      Reply
  5. Warren Bonham

    Educational and very entertaining. I learned several new words and new facts and enjoyed doing so.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, Warren. I myself learned “puffling” and “puffinry.” Intriguing subject with an associated vocabulary!

      Reply
  6. Russel Winick

    What a fun poem! I wish Puffins would come to my backyard bird feeders! Great job, Margaret. And the photo from Evan was perfect too.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Russel. Glad to know I can do a fun poem! I don’t know whether puffins get to Lake Michigan, but if you find out they do, try stocking small fish in a backyard basin.

      Reply
    • C.B. Anderson

      Fill your feeders with fresh seafood, Russel, and they just might, but don’t be surprised if all you get is sea gulls.

      Reply
      • Margaret Coats

        Right. Gulls are one kind of “pirate drake” in the poem, ready to steal the catch from puffins. Puffins are more efficient at fishing, since they (unlike gulls and Arctic skuas) can fly deep under water.

  7. Roy Eugene Peterson

    I especially liked the comparison with Celtic monks. That is a clever way to enshrine them in the mind. I am surprised at the range of your interests that seems to diverge from your poems I have admired so much in the past. This was enjoyable to read with the interesting rhyme scheme and inspired words amplifying the image of the puffin.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      I’m gratified that you enjoyed the poem, Roy! This is my first published a bird poem, but I’ve taken an interest in bird poetry for a long time. When I was teaching, I used to discuss birds chosen as subjects by well-known poets–along with the poems. And I have a few other original poems planned or partly written.

      I can’t take credit for thinking of puffins as Celtic monks. That’s part of Irish and Scottish folklore, and it’s how this genus of birds got its scientific Latin name of Fratercula or “little brother” for its demeanor of walking with head bowed much of the time. It does, as you say, suit their image and “enshrine” them in the mind.

      Reply
  8. Jeff Eardley

    Margaret, this is a joy to read. Like others have remarked, the Celtic monk reference is pure poetic genius. The rhyme and meter just bounce along as we learn so much about these delightful creatures. We have a “Puffin Island” on the isle of Anglesey which I must re-visit after reading this. Thank you.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you very much, Jeff! I did want a bouncy descriptive poem that would be something like a popular song. This one has too much information for the song genre, but as I said to jd above, I tried to keep most of the lines distinct, which is always good in performance.

      I’m glad to know about the island in Anglesey. My only puffin sightings have been in Scotland, but I am unlikely to be there again soon.

      Reply
  9. Joseph S. Salemi

    A delightful poem on an interesting (and definitely unusual!) bird. I’ve noticed that in appearance it seems to resemble the old engravings of the now-extinct dodo. The dodo was fatter, however, and land-bound.

    One metrical point: the rhythm here is trimeter throughout, except for the last line of the first stanza. All the other lines have six syllables, but that line has seven.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Joe, I think the resemblance between puffin and dodo is the beak. The difference is that the similar dodo beak comes at the end of an extended duckbill, giving the head a very different shape.

      You are right about seven syllables in line 5 of the poem, because I’m willing to admit that my one-syllable pronunciation of “orange” is a minority opinion. But trimeter remains, for there are still only three stresses in the line. “Web” is short in vowel and in quantity (as opposed to “webbed”), so I have two syllables between the final two stresses. And you know you have to love “dense orange” to go with “quince yellow.” Didn’t you use “yellow as a quince” in a poem entitled “Rainbow Coalition” (if I remember correctly)?

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        I don’t remember it. But I have written a great many poems, and some may have slipped my mind.

      • Margaret Coats

        It’s on page 31 of your book “Skirmishes.” I like poems dealing with a single color, but I listed this one in my little collection under “multicolor.” You have blue, black, yellow, green, and red, along with the color pattern “mottled.” No orange, though.

  10. Norma Pain

    I knew little about puffins but after reading this lovely poem, I pulled up a video about them on Puffin Island in Newfoundland/Labrador and watched these wonderfully cute birds and how they live and breed. Thank you Margaret.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Norma! Glad you liked the poem and the subject, which is indeed wonderfully cute.

      Reply
  11. Brian A. Yapko

    What a delightful poem this is, Margaret, which is thematically (if not structurally) an ode to the gentle puffin! Your affection for these gentle creatures is palpable and has inspired wonderful, unique poetry which focuses on nature in a most compelling way.

    There is something deeply idiosyncratic about the form you work with — especially since it carries just the barest echo of the chant royal (your rigorous discipline in the use of limited rhyme-sounds.) After a fair amount of analysis, I threw my hands up and decided that this was all about the fun and, to some degree, the capriciousness of a flock of fratercula (which, I note, means “little brother” in Latin. More on that anon.) Wild birds, after all, are not and should not be too controlled.

    The form here is as follows: a total of 45 lines divided into 6 uneven stanzas (5,6,8.8,7,11.) You also divide the words into only 8 rhyme-sounds, which are presented in something of a non-pattern. Nonetheless, despite the apparent randomness, the poem appears highly ordered because of those limited rhymes. I also note that no rhyme appears in all verses, though “ast” (B) and “eet” (D) are the most-used throughout. Lastly, your meter is iambic trimeter – notably short and, perhaps, birdlike in its abrupt and sing-songy quality. That, at least, is how I experience it.

    Content-wise, you have 6 stanzas which focus on 1) Appearance 2) activity; 3) courtship and birth; 4) feeding habits; 5) living and family conditions; 6) symbolic meaning.

    The first five stanzas develop a sympathetic view to these delightful creatures, with memorable descriptive phrasing of physicality and behavior, including the interesting fact that these creatures are monogamous and live in harmony. It is the 6th stanza that is most poetic in its description of these “little brother” birds as celtic monks and even a hint of reincarnation as they are “brought back/in penance for faults past to pray as erst they vowed…” Are puffins in fact generally regarded as having theological symbolism?

    It would be interesting to learn why this genus is called fratercula. But you have made the most of these “little brothers” showing their peaceful, loving nature with an enthusiasm that is contagious. I happen to be very fond of puffins myself after seeing them in Alaska. We have a mated pair made out of blown-glass prominently displayed in our curio.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Brian, you’ve made an extensive analysis, and brought up several items very much worth talking about in a public comment. Thank you for your special attention to this poem of mine. It’s getting late, and I have other commentors to acknowledge, so I will just list things I’ll come back to, God willing. First is form and genre, especially the relation of “Puffins” to ode and chant royal. You’ve also spoken of caprice and control, and of the high degree of order here, despite idiosyncratic features. And there’s the presentation of the subject (puffins) in its natural character and as symbol. Thanks again for all you’ve brought up, and I’ll return.

      Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      You’ve outlined the form well, Brian, in structure and content. We have to call it a nonce form, used once for the occasion–or for the subject. You’re aware that the poem is not an ode, because that stateliest of lyric genres ordinarily has elaborate stanza structure and elevated diction. And an ode implies praise. Maybe I have that in the affection you see in my description, but it is not the praise Keats gives to a nightingale in an ode, or that Francis of Assisi (in Canticle of the Creatures, a “lauda”) gives to God through the created things he describes. Mine is, as you say, a poem of fun and caprice mostly on the natural level.

      You’ve also outlined how subtopics treat the subject in what I’ve called stanza-paragraphs. To be more precise about the second stanza, it deals with the puffin friendship ritual, as I said to Daniel Kemper above. The language is more colloquial than elsewhere, and the interplay of internal rhyme and end rhyme is obvious, to gain the reader’s friendly attention and establish fun as the tone, while describing what the friendly birds do.

      You’ve noticed overall the harmony in which puffins live. To go beyond what’s in the poem, that is a remarkable trait. They do compete for a mate when young, and sometimes for territory. But they don’t fight for dominance or steal food from one another. The “pirate drake” in the poem is a bird from a larger, faster species. The mated pair necessarily cooperates year in and year out, with each in turn incubating the egg or minding the single puffling hatched each year while the other flies out to fish for the family.

      The puffin does not have symbolic significance in religion, despite the name given in folklore. That’s probably because puffins live in areas far from the centers of art and literature. There may be a very vague suggestion of reincarnation in calling them “little brothers” with Celtic monks in mind. But birds in general symbolize souls, as in the clearer situation of depicting a death with a dove departing from the body of the deceased. If puffins are souls of Celtic monks (remember, it’s folklore) that’s just a way to picture a spirit–with a compliment to the bird for behavior that suggests prayer.

      The rigor of limited rhyme does recall chant royal, and chant royal is not as much restricted in topic as an ode. Still, it really needs regular stanzas, so you are right that my rhyming and number of stanzas merely carry a hint of the grande ballade. Thanks again for your attentive analysis, and for how much you like the poem!

      Reply
  12. Joshua C. Frank

    What an interesting poem… very interesting form (rhymes, but no discernible pattern), interesting subject (such a cute bird!), and striking images in the last stanza. Somehow, it all ties together very well.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks for finding interesting unity, Joshua. This is a poem requested by my husband, who gave me a topic unusual for me, so I hardly knew where I was going. Even with material for a good description, it needed something more. The power of pre-existing symbolism helped pull it together. I appreciate your seeing the special something and saying so.

      Reply
  14. James A. Tweedie

    Brian, Joe and Cynthia each stole my word for this clever alliterative, “delightful,” delicious and descriptive romp. Curiously I just wrote a free verse poem on Skellig Michael that included a description of the puffin colony on that iconic, holy Irish isle. You captured the spirit of the bird wonderfully in what I would call a self-controlled, disciplined and skillful stream of conscience tour de force. Rollicking good fun.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, James. I very much appreciate your perception of delight and discipline together here. Hope to see your freely composed Skellig Michael sometime, as holy isles are fascinating places.

      Reply
  15. Paul A. Freeman

    Having written a poem about the dodo, which was unremittingly miserable (the poem, that is) due to the birds ultimate fate, it’s great to hear a perfectly personified puffin poem, Margaret.

    Can I recommend the 2011 Warner Brothers cartoon flick, Happy Feet 2, where the penguins discover a flying ‘penguin’ called Sven?

    Thanks for the read.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks for your praise of the poem, Paul, and for the cartoon recommendation. I am working on a poem about another extinct bird, and with your warning, I’ll take measures to avoid unremitting misery. Fortunately, the situation is unlike that of the dodo. Good cheer to you this year!

      Reply
  16. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Margaret, I adore birds of every ilk and the puffin is up there with the most intriguing birds on the planet. I love the fact that its Latin name “fratercula” means little brother or little friar. When one sees them in their feathery, black and white livery, how appropriate that name is. Some also think that when they hold their feet together when launching for the heavens, they look like they’re in prayer.

    You have done these fun fellows every justice with your luscious language and linguistic images. I especially like:

    Flight homeward must be fleet
    To balk a pirate drake
    Who aims to snatch or shake
    The piscatory treat.

    I was intrigued and entertained throughout, and the comments section is a delight. Very well done indeed!

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, Susan. You have written several fine bird poems yourself, especially “Ode to Hidden Splendor” on the Carolina wren, and “Rufous” on your neighborly hummingbird, not to mention your ode to the osprey. And of our bird collection here at SCP, Peter Hartley’s “Blackbird” is also one of the finest. Goes to show that poets and birds have a certain congeniality. You probably know “The Poetry of Birds,” an excellent anthology of old and new poems put together by Simon Armitage and published by (who else?) Penguin Books.

      Reply
  17. Michael Vanyukov

    This delicious piece made me regret that I went into genetics rather than ornithology :). But my ornithology professor forever screwed it up for me by waking us students up at 3 am and forcing us to march into the forest to listen to birds’ morning songs. Thank you for adding such a positive impression..

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, Michael, for your attention to the poem. Glad to know of your interest in ornithology. There is a cell biologist in my family who (during high school days) used to participate in the national bird count when it was held on a single day. All birdwatchers in the area spent the entire day trying to sight as many species as possible, in order to have the highest number in the nation. Our area won the prize more than once! I don’t remember how early they got up, but since they actually had to see the bird (not just hear it), the search probably started later than 3 am.

      Reply
  18. Christina Lesinski

    This is such a lovely and lively poem filled with imagery, Mrs. Coats! I love the comparison to the monks at the end, very nice touch. This seemed like a challenging rhyme scheme to keep up with but you executed it beautifully. I learned a lot more about puffins in this poem too!

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you for reading and commenting, Christina. I’m glad you like the way the rhymes turned out. I learned much about puffins, myself. Everyone agrees on the happy comparison to little monks (or friars). If it’s good enough for scientific nomenclature, it’s good enough for a poem!

      Reply
  19. Tom Rimer

    Margaret, what a charming poem to cheer us up in the middle of the winter! I so enjoy the general sprightliness and insouciance with which you elaborate your subject matter, and I am fascinated with the complicated rhyme scheme, which falls surprisingly well on the ear. This seems an unusual experiment for you, at least in terms of your recent contributions, and a delight.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Glad to contribute charming cheer for wintertime! The topic was requested by Bruce, and the rhyme scheme is an experiment, successful in the hearing of you and others. I probably won’t repeat it, but I do have some other bird poems in mind. Hope they turn out delightful in ways unique to the species.

      Reply

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