The Daily - 'Animal,' Episode 2: Puffins

Episode Date: June 9, 2024

In a broken world, what can we gain by looking another animal in the eye? "Animal" is a six-part, round-the-world journey in search of an answer. In Episode 2, the writer Sam Anderson travels to Iceland to rescue baby puffins — which are called, adorably, pufflings.For more on "Animal," visit nytimes.com/animal. 

Hey, it's Michael. Today we have something really special for you, a blissful break from the news. It's a new series from NYT Audio called Animal. My colleague Sam Anderson from the Times Magazine traveled the world to have encounters with animals, not to claim them or to tame them, but just to appreciate them.

Each episode is a journey to get closer to a creature that Sam loves. For the next six weeks, we'll be running this limited series every Sunday here on The Daily Feed. But if you want to hear all the episodes right now, you can search for it wherever you get your podcasts. Today, episode two. Take a listen. Walnut, stop it. Hey. Hey. Hey. Walnut. No. Nope. Oh, there once was a puffin, just the shape of a muffin. And he lived on an island in the bright blue sea. Smells like fish.

Yeah. Smell that? Yeah. Where's that coming from? The boat? He ate little fishes that were most delicious. Sounds like fish. And he had them for supper and he had them for tea.

Hello. Hello. But this poor little puffin, he couldn't play nothing. For he hadn't anybody to play with at all. It's the boat that smells like fish. So he sat on his island and he cried for a while. 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. We're going. Driving off the ferry. I recently went to Iceland. Foggy and raining. Yeah, with my colleague Caitlin Roberts. It's like a movie set.

Yeah, it really is. And not just a regular Iceland. The green is so green. I'm talking about extra, super remote, sea spray, rocky cliffs, tiny island way off the south coast of Iceland. Iceland. Proceed to the roof. So we want to be going.

Because on that island, Maybe it's up here. Oh, yeah. There's a number. There is a single fishing village and in that fishing village there is a house with a white door and when you knock on that door you will be greeted by a very polite family Hi, I'm Sam. Hi, Svava. A mom named Svava and her teenage son, Tristi. Tristi. Tristi.

And the dad. This is my dad, Sigi. Sigi. Hello, Sam. All of whom have invited you over for dinner. Delicious food, thank you. Very good. Very good, thank you.

Where are you from? In America. I'm from the far west coast, from a place called Oregon. Have you been to the United States? No. And at first, it's going to be really awkward because you're strangers. Our daughter is going to a wedding now in Texas. Texas. Very American.

Mm-hmm. But. No, I know all kinds of accents from America. Over the course of the dinner. Now I'm going to go rob the train with my horse called Buckley. Buckley. An Australian. Do you came here to die?

No, I came here yesterday. Things will loosen up. I play guitar and vocals, in general vocals. This is our sleepy music. And eventually, you'll get around to the real reason you're here. But, uh, puppets. Yeah, puppets. Puppets.

from the new york times i'm sam anderson this is animal episode two puffins why do you have some interest in puffins? Good question. Good question. Well, I first learned about puffins in second grade when a girl in my class stood up and read a poem about them. I think I must have been seven years old. About this lonely little puffin stranded on an island with no friends. And somehow he ends up eating pancakes that fish cooked for him. I was enchanted. And ever since then, I've held puffins deep in my heart.

These black and white seabirds with rainbow colored little beaks who can swim and fly and carry like 20 fish in their beak at once. They're amazing. And I always thought about puffins from then on. And then somewhere along the line, I heard about this faraway island where something unbelievable happens. At the end of every summer, every year, happens. At the end of every summer, every year, in the middle of the night, baby puffins start falling out of the sky. And I just couldn't believe that that was real. They crash onto doorsteps, on top of people's cars, into storefronts, parking lots, everywhere. It sounds almost biblical, but it's just part of how puffins grow up

in this part of the world. I'm in Iceland. Yeah, you're in Vespane. Yeah. A baby puffin is called, and get ready because this is very adorable, a puffling. Puffling.

Or, in Icelandic, Luntapesha. Luntapesha. Pesha. Pesha. Or, in Icelandic, Luntapesha. Luntapesha. Pesha. I gotta write it down. The Luntapesha spends all summer deep in a burrow, this muddy hole that's been tunneled into the cliffs.

And puffin parents only have one egg at a time, so it's down there all by itself. It sits there and it waits for its parents to bring big glistening beakfuls of silver floppy fish. And when the baby puffin is theoretically big enough to survive on its own, the parents just leave. They ditch it. And the little baby Luntapesha is abandoned in its hole.

Until one night, all alone, very hungry, the puffling climbs up to the opening of its burrow, and it looks out at the ocean, where all the food is, and it prepares to jump off the cliff and glide down to the freedom of the open sea. For a while, eat, sleep on the ocean. Where it will spend the next several years never touching land, swimming around, learning how to be a grown-up puffin, diving for fish, finding a mate, and eventually returning to the same cliffs to start the cycle again, to have its own puffling.

But every year, some pufflings get confused. They don't see the ocean. They think they're headed toward the beautiful moonlight reflected on the water. But instead, they end up drifting down toward a well-lit gas station or someone's porch light. Because they're not able to fly as pufflings, they only know how to glide. And when they land, they are stuck. Their little wings are really only good for gliding, so they can't take off again.

They're landlocked and stunned. again. They're landlocked and stunned. And if a puffling is just left there in the street, all kinds of terrible things can happen. Long story short, it will not be growing up and having babies of its own, which just means a world with fewer puffins, which is not a world you or I want to live in. So for generations, during puffling season, the families of Vestmanair have been staying up all night to rescue these baby birds and release them back to the sea. This is the only house in the neighborhood that is this wide, just go out with the hoe and walk around. Out of the house, you know. It's wide.

It was wide, you know. She was telling me there is one place on the island where people could go on their balcony and hunt puffins from their house. There's only one place. In the world. Hunting puffins is also a family tradition here. This part of Iceland is home to the biggest puffin colony on earth. There are way more puffins than there are people.

Living there and never eating a puffin would be like living in the middle of the greatest vineyard on earth and never trying a grape. But you've never hunted puffins? No, that's not in our family. We are not a killer. We just eat them. Yeah, we just buy them after it's been killed.

It is a very, very nice food. I like it. I love it. We smoke it and have new potatoes and butter. But I'm not here to eat puffins. I've come here to save them. Are they hard to catch?

Are they quick? What is it like to try to catch them? They can be very hard to catch. Some are just very calm. And since Tristi has been doing this since he was tiny, he's offered to be our Luntapesha guide. What kind of mood is it in? Confused and mad.

Puffling season only comes once a year, and it only lasts for a few weeks. So we had to come to Vestmanair at this exact moment. Even though, for me personally, the timing is awkward. Because my daughter Greta, my own little precious fuzzy puffling, is getting ready to go off to college. And if you're wondering how this is going to go for me, the other day at the grocery store,

I started crying when I saw her favorite brand of applesauce. I'd like to come while it's still bright, and I could maybe try to show you some puffins. But these birds don't care about me and my stupid human timeline. They will jump when they jump, which I'm hoping is soon, so that I can hurry up and rescue them and still get home in time to send Greta off.

Here, you sit in the front seat and I'll be... yeah. Okay. Do you want to hear what my mom says is unhealthy for my soul? Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's called To The Hellfire. So as we head down toward the harbor, Tristy cranks up the music. This is the ultimate puff and searching song.

This will get them to come to us. Haley, do you want the music off? Maybe just a touch down. Because I just want to ask about what's the strategy here? It is just patience and looking out for the tiniest little dots that might resemble a puffin. Okay, what does a puffin look like? What are we looking for? A little black ball of feathers. Let's go up here.

You know those very dark British crime dramas where every day there's a grisly murder down at the docks? Yeah, you just gotta search every nook and cranny. This looks like that. And then if you see something, scream out. Like torn chain link fences, huge buoys, industrial spools of rope. I don't think it is. I think it's just a shadow. Yeah, it's just a shadow.

We're staring so hard. Our eyes are popping out of our heads. We're just looking for the tiniest hint of motion. Where are you, guys? Where are you? When we don't see anything down at the harbor, we check out the rest of this tiny island. We drive past the school.

Do you see anything? Past the golf course. No. Past this giant sculpture of a soccer ball on the side of a hill. I don't see any out there. Again and again. Sometimes I think a lava rock is a puffin. Sometimes I think a little clump of grass is a puffin.

Yeah, everything is a puffin when you're searching for them. It's the middle of the night and there are no puffins. I feel like this is like when my grandpa used to take us out to see Santa Claus on Christmas Eve night. This is like when my grandpa used to take us out to see Santa Claus on Christmas Eve night. We'd look up at the sky and everyone would be searching around and at some point he would act like he saw Santa Claus and we would all sort of pretend like we saw little lights in the sky. We have 13 Santa Clauses in Iceland. What? Yeah.

So, the Santa Claus is in Icelandic culture. They are like pranksters and kind of just assholes. They all break into your house. It's not like they sneak in through the chimney and we just keep looping around past the school past the golf course there's kjartasniker

he steals your candles past the soccer ball there's kjotkroker he steals from your meat pantry past the school past the golf course past that soccer ball. Past the docks.

Past the school. Golf course. Past the piece of lava that looks like a puffin but is not. Past the school. The golf course. Past the soccer ball. Past the golf course. Past the soccer ball. Past the golf course. Soccer ball.

Soccer ball so many times. School. Golf course. Soccer ball. Soccer ball. Should we get out and walk around? We can do that. It is now 10 million o'clock in the morning.

This is all about patience. It's just being patient and enjoying the walk, enjoying the smell. Or trying to enjoy it at least. And then, out of nowhere, we see it. Hustling! It tries to run, but it has nowhere to go. It's hemmed in by concrete walls.

And so we all go sprinting toward this teeny panicking blob of feathers. And Tristy lunges at it and just catches it with his bare hands. Hi. And here it is, a real live puffling. Nice job down here in the loading dock. down here in the loading dock. Sleek with a black face and a bright white body. It has this long sharp pointy beak. Got one. You got one. Oh my gosh. It's very tiny.

You're being rescued. Really flapping. You're being rescued. Really flapping. The puffling has some fuzzy gray down on the back of its head, which is a sign that it might still be a little on the young side and maybe wasn't quite ready to leave its burrow. Oh, wow, he's very tiny. But it did leave its burrow. It climbed right out to the edge of that hole

and it made this brave leap of faith toward its new life and it totally failed. Everything went wrong. It smashed into pavement and now here it is clamped in a pair of human hands. It must feel like it's being abducted by aliens.

Let him bite you. The biting doesn't hurt at all. It's the most adorable anger possible. And we all just stand around beaming at this little guy. Overjoyed. We can't believe our luck. All the little shadow. And I was like, ah, no, that's just a pipe. And then it twisted and the pipes don't twist like that.

This has to be by far the worst night of this baby animal's life. But it's one of the best nights of my life. I'm finally standing face to face, beak to nose, with a living, breathing, squealing baby puffin. Thank you so much. Enjoyed a little puffing. I've been sleeping tonight. So we pack up our little bird into a cardboard box where she will spend a long, sleepless night scratching and squeaking and making terrible smells. I don't recommend cuddling with it. Right at the foot of my bed. Like I'm covered in poop and you will have to search for it. While I am also not sleeping. But it'll all be worth it

because tomorrow we'll be sending her back out to sea. Good night. Good night. Thank you. Oh, there he is. Oh, yeah? Hello! Hi! Our friend Tristi had to go to Reykjavik on band business, so he called in some backup to help us. Okay, so, tour guide mode activated. His friend Arnar.

My name is Arnar. Arnar. Yeah, it's probably a little hard to roll the R's, right? I think I'm just going to say Arnar. I'm sorry to him. Tristi and me, we are best friends. Arnar and Tristi are in a band together. Do you sing too?

Oh, yeah. Me and Tristi, we do joint guitar and vocals. And I always say vocals because it's not really singing, is it? Can you do the... That's like the gremlin sound. And then you can just do more general stuff. I guess what I'm asking is for you to improvise a song about rescuing pufflings in your heavy metal voice. You totally don't have to do this.

Oh no, I am so going to do this. Searching down in the darkness below for the puppet of my soul. All right. Something like that. Arnar is a couple years older than Tristi. They met in a karate class. And like many islanders,

he's been rescuing pufflings for as long as he can remember. There's one memory that kind of sticks out, so I must have been around eight years old and we found a puffling that was like way too small so that means that you have to take care of it for like a couple of weeks to let it grow bigger so we did that we had him for three weeks if I remember correctly and i gave him a name i named him kalli and he like he became my best friend he ate like cat food chicken and like a bunch of different stuff that we gave him and he was super funny as well and then you know the day came that he became big enough to release so we brought him out to the cliff and you know i throw him up and he looks kind of shaky at first but he eventually

kind of regains stability in flight and I'm like yes okay finally he's safe see you in a couple years but then he just starts taking a nosedive down and I'm like okay it's fine he just wants to be closer to the ocean, he eventually basically gets turned around and flies directly into the cliff and just explodes basically. And you know I was like, no, Calle! And then I started crying. It was a harsh lesson in how brutal nature can be. And it's just like, what are you gonna do? So here we are at Hamar, or the cliff.

This is the most common spot where people take them. Hey little buddy, we're going to get you out to the ocean, okay? Okay? He doesn't like my soothing words. I have to say, it feels weird to be rescuing a baby animal by throwing it off a cliff. This is an exciting time. This is your first time releasing a puffling. Yeah. I know. But that's what pufflings like. And so that is what we're doing.

I am afraid something's going to go wrong and he's going to blow back into the cliff and die. Well, I believe in you. Okay. I mean the wind is blowing very hard at the cliff. Very very hard. It is really windy out here. Okay, so you can just put the box down here and pick him up. Okay, so you can just put the box down here and pick him up So you want to basically cradle him with both of your hands

You want to keep the wings in The technique is basically the same as swinging a kettlebell at the gym Yeah, I'd do the kettlebell, it's the easiest You've got to spread your legs really wide and hunch down And your arms just hang straight between your legs. Isn't he just going to fly back onto the land? No, because they like to fly against the wind. So I grip the bird.

It's surprisingly light in my hands. It almost feels like nothing. It feels like I'm about to throw a Kleenex off this cliff. Also, do we need to worry about these seagulls eating him? No, no, they don't go for the puppets. And I get in position. Okay, should I do it? Okay, yeah, I think just give it the old college try and

let's see what happens. Okay. One, two, three. And the bird sails out beyond the cliff's edge. It's flapping like a maniac, flapping its absolute brains out. It looks like a hummingbird. For a long, terrible moment, we watch our bird drifting backwards, struggling and losing altitude,

until, miraculously, the puffling taps into some deep root of strength. It somehow manages to gain one molecule of an advantage over the wind, and it goes zipping just slightly forward, just barely missing the rock, and starts half-flying, half-falling down the cliff face, then suddenly bursts out over the ocean into the clear. Yay! Look at him! This thing I just had in my hands, now we see it as this tiny dot Look at him! This thing I just had in my hands. There he goes!

Now we see it as this tiny dot heading toward the horizon, silhouetted against one of these distant islands. Still going! And when we finally lose sight of it, our bird is very, very, very far out to sea. As we drive back down from the cliff, I'm so happy. I just can't stop thinking about how that little struggling creature we saved

is now sailing out across the freezing water into this whole new life, a life we can't even imagine. And we did that. We fixed that mistake. We literally saved its life. I'm not sure I've saved anything's life before. I don't think I've been particularly helpful

to anything before. And now I'm like a superhero. This is all I want to do. Fortunately, superhero. This is all I want to do. Fortunately, over the next couple of days puffling season finally starts to pick up. The babies are late but they are here. And we are catching one after another. You're good at catching pufflings. Oh thanks. I make sure to give every puffling a name. Puffernutter. Puff and stuff. Puff the magic dragon. Pufflepuff. Just want to make sure you're okay in there. Okay ready? And then one by one.

One, two, three. Release them back to the sea. Yeah! Before long, I have fallen completely in love with this island and its birds and everything else about it. One evening, I see the most spectacular sunset of my life. And then I turn around and behind me, at the same time, there is a full rainbow arcing across the sky, ending in a volcano. And then that same night, while we're

out catching birds, we see the northern lights. It's extremely green. Yeah. And you can see the little red and purple. The sky is overflowing with stars. It's very green and very bright. That is very green. Everyone back home hates me. I text a bunch of breathtaking photos, and my wife writes back, good for you. And then she sends me a photo of the giant pile of boxes she's packed up

to ship to our daughter's dorm room, which, totally fair. But you know what? I'm also very busy. I have my own box to worry about. And inside it, a little birdie who happens to have an appointment with one of the world's greatest authorities on puffins.

with one of the world's greatest authorities on puffins. We'll meet him in just a minute after the break. I'm so excited to be up here. Really? Yeah, I know. Oh, wait. Here he is. Here he is. There he is.

Hello. Hi. Let's come on over to the gear. Dr. Erpor Snar Hansen has been tracking the puffin population in Vestman Air for over a decade. We meet him at a place downtown called the Puffin Rescue Center, where every puffling season, scientists weigh, measure, and tag the baby birds. And we hand him our perfect little puffling. Right out of the gate, he's a bit of a downer. Does he look smaller to you? Yeah, when you grab it on him, you feel like his muscles are slim.

Dr. Hansen tells us that this year's pufflings were late, which was why it was so hard to find them at first. And they're also dangerously small. Tell me immediately when you do. And even though our little bird is a little underweight. So we can go and release your friend or you can do... He offers to help us release it up near some cliffs where he's been conducting puffin research.

There's a dominant direction here. puffin research. These cliffs are really steep. Dr. Hansen takes us up a terrifyingly narrow little sheep trail. The first puffin hunter, he fell to his death on that slope there down on the edge. Really? Yeah. But he doesn't seem worried at all about falling.

Have you ever fallen down? Uh, no. I'm still alive. That's good. I brought along a six-pack of beer because it had puffins on the label. Have a seat. Nothing like a beer in a field. You're flying really close, huh? So close. You think? I love it.

All around us, there are adult puffins popping in and out of their burrows, hopping around in the grass, flying in and out of the water, swooping right over us with beaks full of tiny fish. Here's one. Yeah, just popped out. God, they're so funny they work so hard to fly yeah they beat their wings by 10 hertz i think and that's why their energy demands are so high it's so costly to fly they fly 70, 80 kilometers per hour at full speed. See, they're bringing in food like crazy. Yeah.

Wow. Given the circumstances. The circumstances, he tells us, are terrible. He scribbles us this ridiculously complicated map with graphs all over it, showing, as far as I can understand it, that basically climate change is changing sea temperatures and shifting the ocean currents, and so there are fewer fish around for puffins to eat. This means that puffin parents have to work much harder to feed their babies, and sometimes they can't feed them at all.

This year's pufflings are late, most likely because they're undernourished. They're not ready to fly yet. So what would happen to, let's say, this puffling? Most likely it's not going to make it. Why not? It is so way below the weight, and we know the weight is highly linearly correlated with survival. And it's most likely related to they don't have enough power to deal with bad weathers. Then they starve and then they die.

Something like that. That kind of stuff. Seems like a bad time to be a puffin. No, it's a hard time. So this is not a lot normally. Oh no, this is kind of sad actually. Oh, you're ruining my magical moment. I know. But they're here. My ass is hurting Dr. Hansen's ass is hurting

So we head down to the beach To release our bird You want to do it? He doesn't want to throw this puffling and I'm guessing he wouldn't name it either. We've named her Greta after my daughter. Probably a man. Probably a man did you say? Alright little girl. Alright little Greta bird. It's probably a man, did you say? No, I'm doing it.

All right, little girl. All right, little Greta bird. Ready? Three. Greta the puffling flaps hard, and she glides out past the breakers into calmer waters, where we see her land and float and start to swim away. So you think she'll survive? Yeah, I suppose she has a chance. I mean she's what,

260, 255, right? It. It's at the lower end, so she's more likely to perish than to arrive. If I have to make a nasty guess. But you never know. But you never know. And that is the maddening thing about letting go. You just have to stand there and watch your precious thing disappear

into a future over which you have no control. And you're left holding nothing but the terrifying lightness of your suddenly empty hands. What a nice day! Hi! Hello! Hello! Hi again! It's our last day on the island, and we stop by Tristi's house to say goodbye to our island family.

We stop by Tristi's house to say goodbye to our island family. Sigi is taco. Sigi is taco. I brought two puffin beers. Svava and Sigi have just gotten off work and are relaxing in the garden. I don't drink puffins. You don't drink puffins? I don't drink, I eat puffins. The weather is perfect. It feels more like California than Iceland. And we sit here enjoying the sunshine, watching the sun slide down the sky until it touches the volcano.

Cheers. To the puffin. Over drinks and snacks, we reminisce about our week. About how I've started to think constantly about my own daughter leaving home. What it means to be a parent, and how hard it is to let go. Svava has five kids, and all of them, except for Tristi, have already left home. What has it been like for you, and do you have any advice for me?

Because I have many feelings about it. When Kisly Birger, our oldest boy, moved to Reykjavik, 17 years old, I was very, very depressed. My heart was broken for two weeks, and then I have to start. He is getting older. He has to go to get out to the life just like we. So you just have to feel the heartbreak. Yes, for two weeks. You live. Okay. You know, when you have your child,

when you have your child the first time, you know right away you don't own it. You just have to take care of it and help them. Do you have one kid? No, I haven't. She's our first, so we have a son who will be there for another few years. Yes. A little puffling. Yes. Yes. But we are always, mom mom and dad for the 42 years old boy. I sometimes take him and... I always said you can change your mother if you don't like me. Okay.

Would you like to have pancakes? Do you have pancakes? Yes, he wants my pancakes. I would love to have pancakes. If you don't mind. Thank you. A coffee or... Siggy sets the table with jams and syrups. We have coffee and we eat way too many pancakes.

And then we say goodbye. Maybe we will see each other again. We will see each other again. Very nice to have you. Very nice to meet you. Thank you so much. You're very welcome. Morning. Morning.

And the next morning, with my bags packed, I board the ferry to leave this magical island and go back to my family in New York. I sit up top on the deck because I've brought something from the island with me. What do you have in the box? Oh, it's a puffling. Oh, sweet. Oh my goodness.

Yeah, we found him last night. We've rescued him. Yeah, we're going to let it go once we get out to the ocean. Tristy told me that releasing a puffling at sea was one of the best ways to send a baby bird out into its new life. There's no cliffs, no cats, great chance of survival. This is a good spot? Yeah. As we watch the island shrinking into the distance behind us, I take my last puffling out of its box.

I take my last puffling out of its box. I raise the bird in my hand. I count to three. And one last time, I let go. This episode was produced by Caitlin Roberts with help from Crystal Duhaime. It was reported by me, Sam Anderson, and edited by Wendy Dorr and Larissa Anderson. It was engineered by Marion Lozano. The executive producer is Paula Schumann. Original music by Marion Lozano, Dan Powell, and Pat McCusker. Fact-checking by Naomi Sharp.

The poem There Once Was a Puffin is by Florence Page Jaques. Thank you to Gail from Nebraska, who read it when I was in second grade. Special thanks to Jake Silverstein and Sasha Weiss. And also to Lynn Levy, Lisa Tobin, Austin Mitchell, Anita Batajow, and Sam Dolnik. And to all of our friends on Vestman Air for spending so much time with us.

Especially the Pufflings. I hope you're all out there swimming around in the deep sea right now and that I will see you again someday back on the cliffs. Extra special thanks to my wife, Sarah Uzellek, for packing and shipping all of our daughter's belongings to college while I was busy on my dream trip. You can listen to all of our episodes wherever you get podcasts or visit our website at nytimes.com slash animal. And special thanks to the band Merkur,

Tristi Mar Sigurdarsson, Mikael Magnusson, and Arnar Juliusson, who wrote us a worldwide musical-exclusive death metal song about catching puffins. It's called Puffling. Please enjoy. You might want to turn the volume down

in your headphones right about now You Glued in, glued in in the night Gliding, gliding towards the light Lost in the streets, can't find their way home Mistake to see, though they're all alone Shelter they seek in the dark in the corners Time to go and rescue them Bonsam and Bonsam

Bonsam and Bonsam Bonsam and Bonsam Bonsam and Bonsam I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah

I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah

I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box, yeah

I'm back in the box, yeah I'm back in the box below For the puffling within my soul Searching down in the darkness below For the puffling! I'm out.