
description:
Images of puffins began to appear in published books on wildlife during the 1700s, notably in comprehensive regional avian compilations such as “A Natural History of Birds” (by Eleazar Albin, 1734, London) and “Birds of the Netherlands” (Cornelius Nozeman and others, 1770-1829, Amsterdam). These are certainly among the oldest painted images of Puffins known to exist. Recently however, we were watching an episode of the long-running British TV program “Antiques Roadshow”, when they showed a close-up picture of “A Map of the North Pole and Parts Adjoining” by Moses Pitt, published in 1680 at Oxford, England. This map is a striking example of early cartographic attempts to represent the Arctic region. Created during a time of growing European interest in exploration and trade routes, particularly the elusive Northwest Passage, the map reflects both the ambition and the limitations of geographical knowledge of the era. It features a circular polar projection centered on the North Pole, with surrounding continents and imagined landmasses, including speculative islands and coastlines based on explorers’ accounts and hearsay.

The map prominently features an elaborate cartouche—a framed decorative panel typically used to hold the map’s title. Pitt’s cartouche often included classical motifs, such as scrolls, floral designs, and occasionally figures of mythological or allegorical nature. True to 17th-century cartographic traditions, Pitt’s map also includes illustrative sea creatures and sailing ships scattered throughout the Arctic seas. These not only add visual interest but also reflect the era’s maritime fascination and the mystery surrounding polar exploration. As we watched the Antique Roadshow camera zoom in on the cartouche, we could see a right whale (with its twin V blows), a narwhal (with long spiral tooth), a twin-tusked walrus, giant codfish, and, in the foreground A PUFFIN! While not exactly an accurate portrait of the bird, there can be no doubt about the large, orange-red, parrot-like beak (in contrast to the bird next to it, with a more typical narrow and pointed beak, perhaps a murre/guillemot?), white face and belly, and with the faint outline of a down-turned rosette at the base of the bill. There is no other bird in the Arctic Ocean that has anything remotely close to these iconic features of a Puffin. So, we submit that this may be the earliest published image of an Atlantic Puffin. We welcome input from anyone with evidence for an earlier painting of Puffins (email us at info@puffincongress.org).
created by:
This map was made by Moses Pitt (c.1650–1697), an ambitious English publisher, mapmaker, and entrepreneur whose life vividly illustrates both the intellectual energy and the financial risks of late-seventeenth-century publishing. Born in Cornwall, Pitt rose from modest beginnings to become a bookseller and printer in London during a period when scientific discovery, global exploration, and printed knowledge were rapidly expanding. Pitt is best remembered for his grand publishing project, the Atlas Englishus, an encyclopedic atlas intended to describe the known world through maps, geography, natural history, trade, and political detail. Among its most striking components was his 1680 publication “A Map of the North Pole and Parts Adjoining”, shown above. Although many of its features were later disproven, the map stands as an important artifact of early modern attempts to understand Earth’s most remote regions. Pitt’s vision, however, far outpaced his financial resources. Producing the Atlas Englishus required immense capital, and Pitt relied heavily on subscriptions, loans, and patronage. When payments failed to materialize and creditors closed in, his fortunes collapsed. He was imprisoned for debt for several years, an experience he later described in vivid and bitter detail. Despite dying in poverty, Moses Pitt left a lasting legacy. His North Pole map and broader atlas project capture a transitional moment when imagination, exploration, and emerging science converged—revealing both the promise and peril faced by early modern publishers who dared to map the unknown.