Counting Puffins, Losing Myself
I spent another evening on Skomer, tallying birds while my mind drifted. The numbers are up—43,626 puffins, a record. I should feel proud. But all I can think about is how many times I’ve counted and recounted, trying to convince myself it matters.
Everyone calls this a success story. The island is a blueprint, a beacon, a haven. I’m supposed to be grateful for the isolation, for the chance to witness something thriving. But the silence out here gets heavy. I watch the puffins, safe from predators, and wonder what it’s like to just exist without feeling like you’re always one bad season away from disappearing.
We split the island into sections, tracking every bird. I keep splitting myself into pieces, too—scientist, advocate, imposter. The visitors are mind-blown. I’m just tired. I want to believe in the comeback. I want to believe I’m doing well here, too.
#ScienceFatigue #FieldworkFeels #ImposterInTheRoom #Science
