Puffin Scrambler Puzzle

Oh! It looks simple–9 squares–but once you get started, you will be in for hours of mind-scrambling fun with this puzzle. I couldn’t stop playing…it is not as easy as it looks. Check it out for yourself (click on the picture above!).

We have now added a Teacher Resource Page with worksheets you can print out and use in your classrooms. We intend on updating this often. Please let us know what you think at puffinpalooza @ gmail dot com.

CLICK HERE to visit the new Teacher Resource Page

Which bird is always out of breath?

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A puffin!

I received the game yesterday and played it for a few hours straight. It was pretty fun, cute and informative. I learned a lot about puffins as well as about other animals near to the puffin. The graphics are not state-of-the-art but there is some good hand drawn art work throughout and some good photographs.

I gathered some songs about puffins and puffin sounds to share with you. If you want to listen to them—Look to the right and find the small black music player. Simply click play in the middle and enjoy. If you know other puffin songs you’d like to share, please e-mail me.

In case you would like to get these puffin songs / sounds for yourself I have included a play list below with links to the songs. =)

Title: The Puffin
Artist: Terri Thurman Finck

Title: A Puffin
Artist: Port O’Brien

Title: The Puffin
Artist: Hank Davis

Title: Puffin
Artist: John Neville

Title: Lulie the Iceberg/”The clown-faced Puffins had a ride…”
Artist: Yo-Yo Ma; Paul Winter; Pamela Frank; SamWaterston; Derrick Inouye

I couldn’t find the following song but here are the lyrics.

The Puffin Song

Copyright 1990 by Tom Knight

I’m not like the penguin, don’t confuse me with ducks

I’m dressed for dinner in my finest fancy tux

My beak it is pretty, my feathers are fine

Long time ago, the hunters wanted mine

Call me a Puffin, ‘cuz that’s my name

I live on an island just off the coast of Maine

But I wasn’t born here, I was brought by a man

And now my burrow is here on Egg Rock Island

Chorus:

Come fly with me

Fly across the sea

Come fly with me

Puffins we will be

My brothers and sisters, my lovely wife

We like to gather, we love the social life

A picnic for puffins, a tasty old treat

I hope you like fish, it’s our favorite thing to eat (Chorus)

Before The Puffin Swam

Long, long ago, before the puffin swam,
neither sun nor sail bewildered those
who, simple in their sleep, walked to a day
of golden trees and apples in the air,
and quiet tilted villages.

The men flailed and the women wove
and when the eyes of heaven closed
they rested by fin-fairy fires
and watched the smoke climb upright to the stars.

Here the peace of an eternal autumn passed,
still leaves endured, and for the steeple doves
time kissed lightly underneath the moon;
the stones of ancient masons sang
the pale language of the livng dead,
the wall-chants of the spirit of the race
who left his talismans at eventide
lonely in the grey home shade.

Here lay the axe, once sun-slanted and crossed
before ripe muscles on a summer morning
and the old stones sing back two thousand years
to the skin-belted body which turned inthe sun,
and twisted and struck, one lever of flesh
at the tree on the forest floor.

Only the blue flints know of the heavy dead
fibre-bare in the deep midnight earth,
under the dumb centuries of cloven hooves,
and of souls’ last kisses before they fled
like shadows on the arms of some star-white god.

Forever beneath the high moon clouds
the red-haired cattle stray,
meeting and passing like porcelain
upon a waxen way.

Sires of their sires by hecatomb
had writhed beneath the sun;
some new man-woman would bleed
the calves of their calves by gun.
And one dozen paces from their skulls
would meet in temples on the shale
- with hassocks at their feet.

Eric Ratcliffe

Pondering a Puffin

by Brian A. Hartford

What a strange product of Nature,

the Puffin, is to what I refer.

Large orange beaked,

attached to a small head.

The body isn’t much of which to
speak,

black plumage, and not much more.

What miracle that such a design,

will support such a structure.

The white breast,

orange webbed feet,

such a clownish appearance.

The eyes highlight the costume,

small dots in a white feather field.

Is this costume for camouflage or,

for a darker spirit?

In Nature, it is not wise to guess,

it is uniqueness.

Fisherman by design,

to swim natural as it’s flight.

A source of amasement to me,

sheer joy to know he exists.

He returns to the cliffs of his
birth,

guards the nest.

protecting his unborn from the snare,

hazard of being a gastronomic
delight.

What a joy to know the puffin,

It is good to know he exists.

I am amused to think that,

the joke is on me.

BAH

Puffin!

Underwater, a premier danseur,
his turns a blur,
his orange feet steer

through the orchestra
of seaweed and tide,
this sea parrot, this clown

of the Atlantic, harlequin-billed
with jester’s eyes;
take one for your own

and the dance of life
takes a turn. The one I choose,
Nureyev,

is on his fifth mate,
despite the fact that puffins
are monogamous: no guilt

on Eastern Egg Rock!
What’s important
is the burrow

lined with grass and sticks,
that he was seen
approaching the nest

with a half dozen fish in his bill.
While his wings spin
like a windmill at sea,

on land he hops awkwardly
across rocks, wings tucked
under the tail of his tuxedo.

In spring, he’s genius
of the thermals,
the sun whispers stage directions,

gravity reveals its secrets
as he flies toward his island
without map or compass
from far across the sea.

— Suellen Wedmore

There Once Was a Puffin

Oh, there once was a Puffin
Just the shape of a muffin,
And he lived on an island
In the bright blue sea!

He ate little fishes,
That were most delicious,
And he had them for supper
And he had them for tea.

But this poor little Puffin,
He couldn’t play nothin’,
For he hadn’t anybody
To play with at all.

So he sat on his island,
And he cried for awhile, and
He felt very lonely,
And he felt very small.

Then along came the fishes,
And they said, “If you wishes,
You can have us for playmates,
Instead of for tea!”

So they now play together,
In all sorts of weather,
And the Puffin eats pancakes,
Like you and like me.

by Florence Page Jaques

I found yet another free Puffin Game online, Prodly the Puffin. It is not a graphics based game. It is a text adventure game, a ‘tale of one bravely puffin in search for his pitchfork’. You simply type in what you want to do next and then read what happens… etc. etc. Think about the first computer games—it is like them. It is still fun and cute. Try it here.
PARENTS this game does have weapons — you cannot see them as it is not a graphic-based game but it talks about them.