A Visit to Iceland’s Premier Bird Museum
Ask any traveller heading to Iceland which bird they’re most excited to see and you’ll get the same answer almost every time: the puffin. These stocky little birds have become genuine tourism icons — plastered across campaigns alongside the Aurora Borealis and the Golden Circle. There’s something faintly absurd about it, honestly. A bird that waddles awkwardly and sports a clown-coloured beak has been elevated to the same marketing tier as the northern lights.
Who Gives Two Hoots?
The puffin fixation is understandable, but Iceland’s birdlife runs far deeper than one photogenic seabird. The island supports a staggering 10 million breeding pairs, making birds the dominant presence in the local wildlife scene. They’re woven into Icelandic culture too. Every spring, the first sighting of the lóa, or Arctic golden plover, makes the news as a genuine marker of the season changing. Certain spots are quietly understood as no-go zones because the kría (Arctic terns) will happily dive-bomb anyone who wanders too close. The Falcon Cross — awarded for outstanding service — pays tribute to Iceland’s national bird, the gyrfalcon.
Iceland sits at a critical junction for birds of the northern hemisphere, functioning as both a breeding ground and a stopover for countless migratory species. Along its cliffs and shores, vast colonies of guillemots, gulls, razorbills, and others put on a spectacle that needs no embellishment. Inland, places like Hornstrandir, Þingvellir, and Lake Mývatn shelter owls, eagles, and falcons.
For all this richness, birdwatching infrastructure is thin on the ground. Hides and facilities are scarce, which tends to keep the pursuit in the hands of photographers, dedicated twitchers, and serious hobbyists rather than casual visitors who might otherwise love it.
Taxidermy, Moss, and Button-Pushing
There are exceptions, though — and the most significant one is Sigurgeir’s Bird Museum, sitting on the northern shore of Lake Mývatn. Arriving here, you’re met with wide views of the lake, distant mountains, and lava fields busy with bird activity. The building itself fits the setting well: a turf roof, glass, and stone that don’t try to compete with what’s outside.
The museum opened in 2008, built around the life’s work of Sigurgeir Stefánsson, a local man who started collecting and taxidermizing birds in his twenties. By the time he died in 1999, he had long held a dream of housing his collection — the bird fauna and eggs he’d gathered over decades — in a proper museum. Almost a decade on, his family and community made it happen.
Sigurgeir’s older sister, Stefanía, greets visitors herself, and the museum feels warmer for it. With your ticket comes a brief introduction to marimo — those peculiar, almost animate-looking moss balls found in Lake Mývatn and Japan’s Lake Akan — before she points you toward the main exhibit.
The exhibit room is something else. Parts of it are deliberately dim, with glass cases running through nearly every bird species found in Iceland, plus dozens of eggs. Cases are organised by type and habitat — geese, seabirds, ducks, birds of prey — and each specimen carries a bilingual label and a button that lights up the bird’s key features when pressed. The taxidermy is meticulous enough that any initial eeriness quickly gives way to fascination. You can study rare species at arm’s length, no binoculars required.
Killing Two Birds with One Stone (But Not Actually)
Stefanía then leads you through to an adjoining building where a separate exhibit covers the history of Lake Mývatn. The boat Sleipnir gets its own story here — it served as the main transport link around the lake from 1930 to 1977, connecting communities long before road access made that possible. Alongside artefacts and accounts from local life, it sketches a picture of how different this landscape looked before tourism arrived.
Back in the main building, there’s homemade soup, smoked trout, lava bread, and waffles on offer. Souvenirs line one corner, with retro mugs that will mean something to anyone who takes birds seriously. The quiet standout, though, is a proper telescope set up for free use, trained on the lake. For anyone who’s never really tried birdwatching, this is a surprisingly good place to start.
Sigurgeir’s Bird Museum earns its place on any Lake Mývatn itinerary. You come away knowing more about Iceland’s birds and, if the telescope does its job, you’ve watched a few of them live on the water as well. Two things for the price of one visit — no birds harmed in the process.
For opening times and admission fees at Sigurgeir’s Bird Museum, visit fuglasafn.is.
