MABERLY IS a tiny coastal hamlet on Newfoundland’s Bonavista Peninsula with a permanent year-round population of 20 people and 2,500 puffins — and wide open spaces, ocean vistas and fish-filled waters to satisfy both man and bird.

Between May and September, the tuxedo-garbed auk with the colourful beak occupies a hump of land at the end of a rocky outcrop known to locals as “the puffin site,” one of the most accessible places on the island to see the provincial bird. At the end of a short drive, you’ll find a wooden hut, where a couple of teenaged interpreters shiver in the ocean breeze. From there, it’s a five-minute walk across lumpy grass that seems to lead into the water. But stick to the narrow path, wellworn by tens of thousands of tourists, and follow what sounds like a muffled chainsaw. Puffins don’t squawk like most seabirds — they growl.

Puffins are not graceful birds. They flap their wings at 400 beats per minute just to stay airborne and usually make crash landings, taking out any birds in their way. But the puffin is a noble animal. So said Liberal MP Michael Ignatieff in August 2007, when he championed it as the symbol of his embattled party: “They flap their wings very hard and they work like hell.”

If a five-minute walk isn’t a hard enough workout for you, take a two-hour hike to Puffin Island, just west of Maberly, in the company of local biologist Jonathan Joy. He leads guided tours three times a day between June and September and says early mornings and late evenings are the best times to see the inquisitive creatures.

But if you prefer puffin viewing from afar (a wise bet, if only to avoid the cruel fate of then-Liberal leader Stephane Dion in the infamous Conservative “puffin poop” video of the last federal election), check out Joy’s Natural Wonders, a one-room natural history museum in neighbouring Elliston, where his “puffin cam” lets you see puffins in the wild without getting too close. The birds have been known to peck at the camera, stand on it and smack their bills together — a high five of sorts, says Joy. “It’s a comedy show, sometimes.”

For information about the Maberly puffin site, visit www.rootcellars.com. For Joy’s Natural Wonders and nature hikes, visit www.puffins.ca.

— Patricia D’Souza

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IF, AS MARK TWAIN famously quipped, golf is a good walk spoiled, then consider flying-disc golf — the pastime’s obscure, egalitarian cousin — a good walk reclaimed.

Disc golf, which is also called “Frisbee golf,” is exactly as it sounds: a game that involves throwing a plastic disc into a series of metal baskets on a course typically featuring nine or 18 targets scattered across a few hectares. But disc golf is generally free to play and doesn’t require expensive equipment, nor any chemicals or excessive manicuring to prepare the grounds. Simply show up with a golf disc, which is smaller and flatter than your average Frisbee, and start throwing.

The Professional Disc Golf Association (PDGA), based in Appling, Georgia, lists 88 Canadian courses in its directory, in addition to more than 2,300 in the United States and another 300 in countries as far flung as Estonia and Jordan. One of Canada’s premier courses is on Toronto Island: 18 baskets among idyllic paths and ponds, all just a short ferry trip from downtown. Other courses take you farther from the city, such as the Canmore Nordic Centre’s challenging forest circuit, or the rolling pastures of Gogan’s Green near Amherst, N.S.

“As long as somebody calls ahead of time, it’s absolutely free to play,” says Benjamin Smith, who built Gogan’s Green last spring on his family’s 40-hectare farm. “We even keep a box of discs beside the first tee for people who haven’t played before. And you don’t have to be any good to enjoy it. All it takes is one shot — maybe the wind catches your disc and puts it in the basket — and you’re a legend.

“We’re growing a game here, we’re growing a culture, and I’m spreading the gospel.”

The Mecca for disc golfers is the “Steady” Ed Memorial Course, beside the PDGA headquarters and museum in Georgia. It’s named after Ed Headrick, who patented the first Frisbee with aerodynamic grooves for the Wham-o toy company in 1964 and is credited as the “father of disc golf” due to his efforts to popularize the game in the 1970s. When he passed away in 2002, Headrick was cremated and his ashes were used in a limited edition set of discs, the proceeds of which helped fund the museum. For more on “Steady” Ed, and an international course directory, go to www.pdga.com.

— Dan Rubinstein

WHEN JOAN AND BOB Rudy transformed their vintage wooden train car into a stationary sleeping unit, they kept the interior as authentic as possible. “We did install air conditioning and running water,” says Joan, “and you can use the toilet any time — not just when the train is out of the station.”

Joan (who calls herself the conductor) and Bob (the engineer) operate Rudys’ Bed and Breakfast Caboose beside their home in Tavistock, Ont., an hour and a half west of Toronto. Complete with a cupola that offers views of the surrounding countryside and space to sleep four comfortably, as well as a pool, the B&B has hosted rail enthusiasts from as far afield as Denmark and Dubai.

Trains run through Bob’s roots — his grandfather was a station agent in Tavistock in the 1930s. In 1975, when CN was sell ing some decommissioned cars, his mother purchased the caboose as a playhouse for her grandchildren. After the kids grew out of it, Joan and Bob started refurbishing and opened for business in 1996.

If a night in the caboose only whets your appetite, head about two hours northeast to Ossawippi Express Fine Dining Cars in Orillia, Ont. There, in eight renovated train cars, diners enjoy first-class cuisine without having to worry about their cutlery clattering off the table.

For more information on the B&B, go to www.rudyville.ca or call (888) 655-2641. Or visit on May 23 during Oxford County’s Doors Open festival. For info on the restaurant, go to www.ossawippi.com or call (800) 232-9841.

— Samia Madwar