Doug Plummer's, The Svalbard Dispatches, page 5

T H E S V A L B A R D D I S P A T C H E S photos and story © 2001 Doug Plummer no use without authorization

	The crenellated basalt cliffs tower hundreds of feet overhead. We drift with the motor off, just feet from the nesting Thick-Billed Murres. Craning my neck, I see a ragged sawtooth cliff summit, and tens upon tens of thousands of birds, stacked on the rock, and filling the air. The calls are not loud, but come from all directions. Flocks of hundreds swim just off the zodiac, then dive as one. A mild guano scent wafts over the boat.
	The cliff is a sheer perpendicular drop to the water. At first I feel overwhelmed with so much to see and hear, and focus through the camera to orient myself. After an hour on the water, I lay back, and try to feel the intensity of life in this dramatic venue. Glaucous Gulls and Kittiwakes harass the colony, so birds are constantly in motion. The air is full of thousands of flying, crying silhouettes. The effect is of distilled, noisy essence of arctic life.


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