Lykke, the Norwegian word for happiness, is found in the smallest of things.
In a fragrant Indian curry, conjured by a stranded Dutch fisherman after a bitter, frozen day in Vardø.
In the languid wingbeat of a sea eagle drifting along the snowy spine of a hillside.
In a half-liter can of Isbjørn beer, “from the northernmost brewery in the world,” and a humble tube of cheese laced with chorizo.
In the charts, the cold, and the solemn silence of the high tundra.
In the thunderous clamor of shags, guillemots, and puffins, and the heady reek of their colonies on Hornøya.
In the plume of vapor rising from the distant blow of a humpback whale.
In the violet-pink glow of the midnight sun, mirrored upon still waters in the quiet bay of Vestre Jakobselv.
In the chance appearance of a rare owl, haunting the shadows of an ancient pine forest.
In the joy of marking 121 new species in your Peterson’s field guide.
In a fragrant Indian curry, conjured by a stranded Dutch fisherman after a bitter, frozen day in Vardø.
In the languid wingbeat of a sea eagle drifting along the snowy spine of a hillside.
In a half-liter can of Isbjørn beer, “from the northernmost brewery in the world,” and a humble tube of cheese laced with chorizo.
In the charts, the cold, and the solemn silence of the high tundra.
In the thunderous clamor of shags, guillemots, and puffins, and the heady reek of their colonies on Hornøya.
In the plume of vapor rising from the distant blow of a humpback whale.
In the violet-pink glow of the midnight sun, mirrored upon still waters in the quiet bay of Vestre Jakobselv.
In the chance appearance of a rare owl, haunting the shadows of an ancient pine forest.
In the joy of marking 121 new species in your Peterson’s field guide.
Yet perhaps happiness dwells most deeply in the fragrant fellowship of three snoring companions, gathered in a wooden hut upon the taiga during this great trip for birding magazine Fwiet in 2024.
