I imagine myself at the poker table. I’m holding a pair of queens. On the table there is a third queen along with a jack, a nine, an eight and a two. Given this strong position I make a substantial bet.

The puffin looks right at me and raises all-in.

Do I call or do I fold? What is there to read in that enigmatic face? Simplicity, sadness, apathy? Certainly not cunning or malice. Is the puffin bluffing? Are my three queens winners, or does the bird have the straight?

With a painful sigh I fold, leave my lot with the puffin and head home.

Never gamble with puffins.