More “spark” stories from MASSBird:

Jo-Anna experienced a number of small sparks until later in life the kindling finally ignited with a swoosh:

Birding started slowly.  In my late teens, my aunt bought a house on the Cape in Sandwich.  I would visit frequently.  She had a number of bird feeders in the backyard.  I remember looking at the incredibly colored breeding plumage of the American Goldfinches that visited the thistle (nyger) sock.  I never even knew they existed!!!  I would sit fascinated watching those feeders and comparing what I saw to her copy of Peterson’s Field Guide.  I kept an eye out for the other brightly colored birds I was expecting to see.  Those maps in Peterson’s made it look like I’d be seeing Indigo Buntings and Rose-colored Grosbeaks.  Hmmm . . . they never did show up at her feeders.

In the early 1980s I moved to Sandwich.  Then like so many others, life intervened – marriage, kids, work, etc.  Until one day I was in a CVS parking lot waiting for a prescription to be ready when I spotted a bird – a shorebird of some type in the grassy area beside the parking lot.  I wondered why is this bird here?  There aren’t any beaches for miles. On the way home I stopped by my aunt’s to picked up the field guide so I could figure out what kind of bird it was.  A Killdeer of course.  Curiouser and curiouser . . .

In 2003 I noticed a large black bird perched on a roof as I drove to work that morning in Marstons Mills.  It wasn’t a crow – way too big.  I took a walk back in the direction of where I’d seen it.  It was still there and I crept as close as I could to see what it was.  I noticed its bald red head.  I called Mass Audubon and described the bird which they identified as a Turkey Vulture. A Turkey Vulture . . . wow!  Until then I had thought vultures were only found far out west.  Well that did it.  I was hooked.  I had discovered the wide world of birds.

A Turkey Vulture hooked Jo-Anna on birding. photo by minicooper93402

Finally, couple of years ago I learned of a bird banding demo at the Cape Cod Museum of Natural History in Brewster.  Well . . . I fell in love that day with bird banding.  Sue Finnegan (the one woman dynamo who runs the Wing Island Bird Banding station) ask if anyone would like to release a bird after it had been banded.  After all the kids got a chance, I couldn’t wait to raise my hand and have my turn.  She patiently explained how to hold the bird and how to release it.  Then she placed this most precious prize in my hand – a Lincoln Sparrow!  A life bird at the time!!!  So small and vibrant.  I was mesmerized.  I wanted more, more, more.  I’ve found it’s so much easier to id a bird in hand, than when it flits about – way up in that tree or behind that annoying branch!

I am most grateful to Sue for sharing her experience, patience, vast knowledge, but mainly her friendship since that day.  Thanks to everyone for sharing their amazing stories.  It has been a remarkable, enjoyable time reading and reliving with everyone.

Kevin tells how a city kid got hooked:

I grew up in a Housing Project in the Roxbury section of Boston and in order to get away from the city I spent a lot of time wondering the wilds of the Blue Hills. It is quite wild, you can catch wild Brook Trout ( delicious! ) and see Mink and many other wild creatures that a city kid would not normally see. One day while walking through the woods I heard a sound that I didn’t know. I decided to find out what it was and after carefully sneaking through the woods I got to watch a Ruffed Grouse Drumming on a log at about 20 feet away. Have never stopped Birding since although I”m probably the only Birdwatcher in the world to spend 13 months in a country and not see a Bird!

P.S. That country was Vietnam and I was a Marine, can’t understand how I didn’t even remember at least ONE Bird !!!

Mike describes three sparks in his evolution as a birder:

The first was shoveling 2+ feet of snow from the back yard during the blizzard of ’78 so my dad, who always fed the birds, could get seed and suet out.  I had no idea, at the time, which birds were which, but it hardly mattered. We HAD to get seed out for those hungry birds!

The second was when I was working in Wareham.  I had the fortune of working with Mike Sylvia and listening to all his fantastic birding adventures.  He put up a feeder outside the lab’s window but what got me really interested was the dead Flicker he brought in one day.  How could such a colorful bird live around here?  It looked like something from the rain forest.  A “death march” in Chatham gave me a bad sunburn, 20 life birds and a desire to see more.

A dead Northern Flicker sparked Mike’s interest in birding. photo by FunGi

The third was a spring trip to Plum Island. I had only recently moved north of Boston and was dying to hit this famous hotspot.  It was spring and no one else was around.  I had almost always birded with others up until this point.  I turned a corner on the Hellcat boardwalk and there it was; Chestnut-sided Warbler.  A life bird and I identified all by myself!  The fire that was slowly growing burst into a conflagration and hasn’t subsided yet. I’ve had the honor and pleasure of meeting and birding with some great people who also happen to be excellent birders.  Thanks to all who’ve shared their expertise along the way.

Jim’s love of birding was sparked by a Pileated Woodpecker:

As a kid in Akron, Ohio I didn’t know a soul who knew anything about birds. My mother fed them, and I remember seeing cardinals (her favorites), families of bobwhites running across the back yard, and the occasional red-headed woodpecker.  I also remember identifying a male scarlet tanager with my naked eyes on a family picnic, thanks to a tiny bird book my parents had bought me with 30 or 40 birds in it.  Those birds are with me still, and were the beginning of my interest, but I never had a mentor, someone who could show me HOW TO WATCH BIRDS.

Years later, as a college student on summer vacation in 1963, I went with my fraternity brother (and future brother-in-law) to a remote fishing camp in an Ontario wilderness.  “Remote” like nobody was there but the two of us and the old couple who ran the camp.  One day I didn’t feel like fishing and asked Tony to drop me off across the lake from the camp so I could try my hand at watching birds with my father’s primitive binoculars.  He did, and I soon found myself in a long-abandoned beaver swamp that had grown back to timber.  I was reveling in the utter solitude of the place when a series of loud staccato calls rent the air like thunder, sending shivers down my spine.  Within seconds a black-and-white bird with a flaming red crest, as big as a crow, flew to a dead tree not a hundred feet from me and proceeded to dismember it.  That bird lit the flame that changed the course of my life.

A Pileated Woodpecker was Jim’s spark bird. photo by Seabamirum

Two years later, as a senior at Miami University in southwestern Ohio, I had a chance to take ornithology as an elective.  The field trips were like going to heaven for me.  In March we saw colorful ducks through telescopes on a nearby lake; in April it was seeing a great blue heron colony near the local (and tiny) airport; in May it was identifying warblers (who knew?) along Tallawanda Creek.  I finally knew a little about how to watch birds,  and the years between then and now have been a constant process of learning.

I can count on one hand the times have I had such an ecstatic experience watching wildlife. The only comparable thrills came when I was attacked by a nesting goshawk in Boxford and when a curious badger approached me within six feet in Idaho.  But these events occurred long after the hook had been set.  The pure joy I felt encountering that pileated woodpecker, alone in the wilderness, is one of my most cherished memories.

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Here are more stories from the wonderful thread from birders on MASSBIRD:

Jean’s sister got her started in birding:

My spark wasn’t a bird but a person-my sister who still lives in Rochester, NY.  She had begun birdwatching and would tell me about it over the phone. I went back to visit in February, 1985. We went for a walk in Mendon Ponds Park. For a quarter you could buy a handful of black oil sunflower seeds at the visitor center. She took me down this path and we stood quietly with our mittened hands outstretched. We could hear the birds calling around us and within a short time the little tuxedo dressed bird landed on my hand. I’ll never forget how light the Black-capped Chickadee was and how amazing it felt to have this creature in hand. I came home, put up first one feeder and then another, and began to keep track of birds I saw in the yard.

It wasn’t until 1997 that I began to pursue this interest more and began keeping a “Life List” although I had bought a book from Cornell to keep my first sightings in. I had joined Audubon, Mass Audubon, The Nature Conservancy, Brookline Bird Club earlier. My first field guide was the Petersen Guide to Birds. I took a Shorebirds workshop with Wayne Peterson and my first trip to Plum Island was with Rick Heil. Bill Drummond took me (and sometimes Ed) over the years to places I thought I would never visit. The interest grew into a passion, one my friends still doesn’t understand but rather humors me.

Jean loves the first Dark-eyed Junco of the year. photo by dobak

When I retired from teaching I was sure that I would bird everyday and never miss a rarity again but that has not proved to be true. Life still intervenes. Well I do watch my feeders everyday and still keep a list of birds I see there. It delights me when the first Dark-eyed Junco appears in the yard mid-October and the various species bring their young to the feeders. My passion has led to a substantial book collection, many wonderful memories of places seen, people met, and making my yard bird/animal friendly. One regret is that I wish I were younger when I was hooked but I hope I have many years left to pursue this wonderful experience called birding.

While neither son has become a birder per se, I do get calls wanting to know what bird it is that they are looking at. We were basically living in the Mt. Washington Valley these past four years taking care of our granddaughter. Often I would have my granddaughter(s) call out to me when birds were at the feeders, so perhaps there is an ember waiting to be fanned. I hope so-after all I have all these books…

Ann describes two sparks and expresses gratitude for others who have helped along the way:

The first time I saw a Snowy Egret lift its “golden slippered” foot.

Ann’s first spark with a Snowy Egret “lifting its golden-slippered foot.” photo by donjd2

Being alone watching a Great Blue Heron standing by a river and seeing the heron extend its neck straight up and raise its wings – wondering what that behavior meant – what was the bird seeing, hearing, sensing that I was not.

There has been a noticeable thread of gratitude in these messages – people expressing gratitude to their birding friends and mentors and for the wonders of nature.   My “spark” event that evokes gratitude was becoming a volunteer at the Mass Audubon Joppa Flats Sanctuary  13 years ago.  I’m grateful to Sanctuary Director Bill Gette for being a mentor, friend, and role model and encouraging me to grow as a person and a birder.  I’m also grateful to the Joppa Flats staff and volunteers for many wonderful and memorable experiences and for the gift of community.  My life is so much richer from being part of that group.

Many thanks, also, to Barbara Volkle for this Massbird forum – I have learned a lot here and seen many wonderful birds as a result of others postings.  Barbara, you moderate the group with patience and diplomacy.

John, like many, had a number of sparks that turned him into a serious birder:

My spark came in about four stages. The first came when I was growing up in North Carolina. I had good hearing, unlike today, and was doing a lot of music. I could hear the music of birdsong and enjoyed it, especially the Bob-white, which I thought was nice and would dearly love to hear it again, now that I am in New England and they are much less common here today, than back in the 50s in NC.

The second stage came in 1963 when I traveled across the country with a friend when we were both on our way to school out west. He was an avid birder and insisted on driving the whole way, a trip of 3 or 4 days, during which we camped each night. He would immediately stop the car for a Lesser prairie chicken or a hawk overhead. As he drove, I paged through his Peterson guide and asked him about each bird that caught my interest, and he knew a great deal. I was impressed with his passion and knowledge, and always thereafter considered myself to be a birder. I had no idea how intense it could be.

One summer only a few years later, I was camping with my parents and sisters in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park and I kept hearing such a beautiful sweet song that I had to find the singer, which proved to be a three-day effort, hearing it each day and only at great length being able to get a good look at the bird. It was a Wood thrush, and since that day its song is burned into my memory, as it is for many who consider it their most favorite bird song.

Walks at Arlington Reservoir helped spark John’s birding.  photo by towodo

The fourth stage came when I retired in 2003 and at the same time had a minor surgery that required me for six weeks to avoid my habit of running. I live near the Arlington Reservoir and what a great place to be if you are forced to walk each day! I took my small binocs and walked there, discovering how little I really knew about birds, and how much fun it was to find out more. I joined the newly formed Menotomy Bird Club and began to learn more quickly about birds and the great people who admire them. I can recall leafing through the field guide looking for a very mallard-like duck with a PURPLE head, which turned out to be just a mallard in different sunlight so the green head looked purple – I’m sure many have seen that illusion. Also very impressive were the Great blue herons there. Then the spring migration, and I’ve been solidly hooked ever since.

Another real boost, not to say a spark, has come from the marvelous experience I have had with recent years of bird banding with Trevor Lloyd-Evans at Manomet. Many on this list can attest to the extremely broad influence of his hospitality and the deep insight that comes from handling birds up close and learning season by season more about their lives and habits.

Henry is thankful for fresh air birding and helpful mentors:

My family and I went to Kenya in 1996 to visit my brother-in-law, a zoologist living outside Nairobi.  He took us up north to the edge of the Rift Valley.  It was vast; it was stunning; it was like the whole earth was spread out in front of us.

A week or so later I was home, in a claustrophobic cubicle office in Brookline, feeling like I was going out of my mind.  A friend saw that I was down in the dumps and made a simple suggestion, ”Why don’t you try bird watching?  You have to be outside to do it.”

I am grateful to that friend (Mark Aronson, a fine birder from New Haven).  I am grateful for all the kind birders who are so patient with me, because bird watching is very challenging and I’m always asking for help.  And I am especially grateful for the people who maintain and preserve places like Plum Island and Mount Auburn Cemetery.

California birds hooked David:

Always a nature lover it took me a while to get beyond feeding mallards on childhood vacations. But in high school I worked in western Pennsylvania weeding and planting in a lovely nursery for Elton and Verna, a retired school teacher couple who taught me much about plants.. wild ones, and cultivated.. but I distinctly remember one day planting out some shrubs, and Elton looking up into the tops of the trees to see the Baltimore Oriole he heard. I knew they were orange, nothing else, we did not see the bird, but Idid hear it, and was startled at the concept that one could look for a bird because you recognized its song – amazing.

The birds and birders of Point Reyes, CA help hook David. photo by donjd2

Fast forward a few years.. a summer working in a lab in Panama.. amazing birds.. amazing colors, amazing calls, and someone showed me a Toucan!!  But I had no binocs, or bird books.. and hadn’t a clue what I saw for the most part.  Fast forward another couple years.. and I am a resident physician in San Francisco.. birds everywhere, not just hiding in trees.all over the beaches, lagoons, flocks filling the air at times.. some just ridiculous to look at.. flocks of pelicans looking like pterodactyls, odd little quail with feathers popping out of their heads, ducks who looked like Picasso designed their heads.. and there was this place called the Point Reyes bird observatory.. on a spectacular piece of Northern California..they had people who led walks.. where I saw hundreds, thousands of shorebirds.. and was with people who knew what we were looking at and where to look.. who taught.. I was hooked. I moved back East 20+ years ago to western mass, and told to call a lovely woman named Sally Venman. She said there was this club called Hampshire Bird Club with walks and meetings practically in my back yard. Wow, what a resource.

Initial Post   Responses:  Part 1    Part 2   Part 3   Part 4  Part 5  Part 6

Here is the next batch of stories prompted by Gerry Cooperman’s post on MASSBIRD list serve:

David’s interest was kick-started by a rare gull in Newburyport:

Today, I was birding with Dennis, my twin brother, and Fay Vale at Plum Island. Fay mentioned that the person who “sparked” her was Herman Weissberg, who worked at the same company that she did. Many “old-timers” will remember Herman (the Brown Thrasher), a fixture at Plum Island. I’ve just realized as I start writing this, that I can claim Herman as a catalyst for my birding. First, a childhood memory before I get to Herman again.

I have always been interested in nature, along with my brother, Dennis. We did everything together, including birding. My first bird memory was in the 1950’s when Dennis and I were walking to the Hosmer Elementary School in Watertown. Feeding in a small berry-producing tree were a group of Cedar Waxwings and we marveled at their understated beauty. We noted that there were birds out there besides starlings, pigeons, and sparrows. As the years went by, we did see new birds, without binoculars, and knew robins, jays, crows, etc.

Ross’s Gulls were unknown in the continental United States until an individual appeared in Newburyport, Massachusetts in 1975. Now sightings occur nearly every year. photo by Seabamirum

In 1975 something happened that set us on a road of discovery and adventure that I never could have imagined at the time. Here’s where Herman Weissberg comes in. Herman and Phil Parsons found a Ross’s Gull in Newburyport harbor that January. Of course, Dennis and I would never had known about it if it wasn’t such a big thing. But it was a big thing, and the sighting made the newspaper and the television news programs. We watched in awe as we saw people coming from all over the country to see the Ross’s Gull. Now we knew that the world of birding existed and that world was something we wanted to do. We never saw that Ross’s Gull, but did catch up with it in Churchill, Manitoba, thanks to Bill Drummond. Later that year, we bought binoculars and in July went on our first birding excursion. We couldn’t get enough of these gorgeous, musical, fantastic birds.

Sarah’s (CT) story is not about her (She wrote that she had so many sparks of her own, thanks to her father!), but rather of passing along the torch to the next generation.

I teach middle school science in a large, 3-story school with a flat gravel roof and resident flock of pigeons.  We are located just a few miles west of the Traveler’s Tower in Hartford.  We have been VERY lucky that the pair of Hartford peregrines has, for many years, chosen to hunt at our school.  I’ve taught the students to watch the behaviors of the pigeon flock, and they’ve come to understand that when the flock is panicked, something is chasing them.  I keep a box of old binoculars by the windows in case we need them, and am pleased to say that my students don’t hesitate to jump out of their chairs, race to the windows, and grab the binoculars when the peregrines flash past.

I don’t mind losing some classroom time now and then to build their love of birds and understanding of nature (which IS part of the curriculum!!!).  I’ll never forget the day when an entire class rushed in from down the hall to report that a peregrine had grabbed a pigeon not 3′ outside the windows of the Spanish class — they were SO excited!  The Spanish teacher thought it was extraordinary and loved their enthusiasm, and then added Spanish birding words to their vocabulary.   It is wonderful to see students develop their observation skills and share them with each other and their families.  Many of my students and their families have come back to me in later years to report that their introduction to birds in my classroom helped them see nature with new eyes, setting them on a path of loving nature, science, and birds.  I hope that someday a few of them might remember our school birds as that first spark.  Go peregrines!

Perigrine Falcons are spectacular birds that were virtually eradicated from eastern North America by pesticide poisoning in the middle 20th century. Their recovery is a great success story. photo by Just chaos

Gian is a “Hatch-year birder” who was hooked by Perigrine Falcons:

On a cold February afternoon, while driving with my son to pick up his sister at a birthday party, we were blown away by two Peregrine Falcons engaging in an aerobatic display that would put fighter pilots to shame.

The mythical Peregrine, the fastest animal in the world, was no longer the stuff of books or “Wild Kratts” or YouTube, but a REAL creature in our world.  We watched for a brief ten seconds before the traffic light changed, but what an indelible image that brief encounter left etched on my being.

That was this February, and as a hatch-year birder, I have stumbled, bumbled, and lucked myself along, devouring field guides, meeting some wonderful folks in the field, picking up great tips from Massbird, and studying eBird’s maps and graphs and checklists.

It’s been a wonderful start to this journey, and I feel lucky whenever I venture outside and hear a familiar call, spot a flash of color flitting through the trees, or look up to see the gulls riding invisible waves of wind.  And the exhilaration of seeing something new, well that’s beyond description.

Bird banding was one of the big influences on Glenn:

My first memory of a single bird was a Ruby-throated Hummingbird at a window flower box seen from inside the house of my step-grandfather’s house in (Middle) West Pubnico Nova Scotia.  I think I would have been around 8.

I had a sixth grade writing assignment which was to write about something different.  My mother’s brother, Herman, would come over every Monday evening for dinner.  I announced the assignment at the dinner table and afterwards he told me of the banding operation at Manomet.  He was volunteering with the project.  I took note(s), wrote my paper, got an A.  When I told him this he asked if I would like to actually see of what I wrote.  I said yes.

The date is October 8, 1968.  This is the day I decided I REALLY liked birds.  Herman picked me up at Braintree for what was to be a morning at Manomet.  Note this is only a banding operation at this point.  Manomet Bird Observatory was incorporated in 1969.  I met people whose names I forgot.  What I did not forget was the birds which were handed to me for release.  I had no idea of the variety and delicate plumage(s) and sizes and shapes.  The one bird I recall vividly was the Black-throated Blue Warbler.  Some day I will obtain the actual records of the day, but my memory wants to say there were lots.  I was moved by how fragile these living things are and felt odd I could actually control the destiny of such a living thing.  I took care in my duty holding gently and opening the hand slowly.  Some would not realize they were free, so I get them a little boost.  At 5:00 p.m. Herman told me we had to leave.  Why I asked?  Because the banding day was over.

Bird banding is a wonderful way to “spark” young, and old, into birding. photo by Dick Mansfield

The person who handed me some, if not most, of these birds?  Kathleen “Betty” Anderson. (Read her “spark” story here.)

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Here are more of the stories prompted by Gerry Cooperman’s post on Mass Birds:

Carolyn had several sparks — here is an early one:

I was watching the goldfinches, chickadees, etc. with my dad’s ancient binoculars and saw what turned out to be a large young cowbird begging and being fed by a tiny, very solicitous colorful bird. I got my color markers and drew exactly what I saw — a yellow bird with black head and yellow face. I dug out an old 1960s era book from the attic and saw that it was a Hooded Warbler. I have only seen one once since then and not in my yard. After seeing the picture and all the other birds that supposedly lived in my town, I got out of the house to look for them.

A Cowbird being fed by a Hooded Warbler sparked Carolyn’s birding. Here a Common Yellowthroat feeds two Cowbirds. photo by USFWS

Darin’s aunt launched him into birding:

I was fortunate enough to be “taken under wing” pun intended by my great Aunt Helen.  I was about 10 when she told me she wanted to teach me about birds before I got into girls.  She was a great lady and was once the “den mother” at Manometer Bird Observatory back in the 70’s.  Some people might remember her, Helen Passano.

I grew up in Duxbury on a farm and we had a pond out front with a pair of Mute Swans.  Their wings were clipped and I was around them all my formative years.  I would have to go out in the winter and break the ice open to feed them cracked corn as a young boy.  In the summers, Auntie Helen would write out test questions for me in regards to my adventures around the pond.  I would have to draw ducks and other birds and answer specific things about them to pass.  It was such a great learning experience.  Then came that interest in girls she warned my about….and small block Chevrolets!

She was correct in her assessment, I am now in my mid forties and have passed on that love of birds to my wife Denise and my son Wil.  We go on adventures about once a month all over Massachusetts.  We keep lists upon lists and I really enjoy the time we all spend together.  We even went to Machias Seal Island in Maine a few years ago and had our best birding trip we have ever had.  The Razorbills and Atlantic Puffins so close you could almost touch them from inside the blinds!!!  Absolutely amazing.  They are both up to about 170 species on their life lists and they are constantly looking for a new entry.

I am so very lucky for my great Aunt Helen from 35 years ago.

Tom got started with NYC pigeons:

Having grown up for the best part of my early and teen years in a NYC Housing Projects in the 50s and 60s=2C we didn’t see much but pigeons.

But when I was around 12 I began to visit the American Museum of Natural History and found myself drawn to one diorama in particular and that was in The Great Hall of Birds on the first floor  which I believe no longer exists in its original form.

A diorama, similar to this in the American Museum of Natural History, sparked Tom’s interest in birding.

There were the ropes  and the rail of a wooden ship looking out upon a stormy sea and hovering just above was a great seabird – a great albatross – and it held me in awe.  At the same time at home we had a large illustrated edition of The Rime of The Ancient Mariner.

Between these two visions I began to wonder how this bird could provide me with such a feeling of peace every time I saw it at the museum and then give me the creeps whenever I opened the book and saw the arrow heading straight towards it.

In any case, it got me noticing birds and I really wanted to see live ones. So I began to find pheasants at the local cemetery ( St Michael’s in Queens- the other kids used them as archery targets) and later got a permit to visit the Jamaica Wildlife Refuge near Kennedy Airport  ( we still called it Idlewild back then) – a long subway ride away.

And it’s been birds since then wherever I find them.  And the pigeons? I still delight in their iridescent necks when the sun shines.

Thanks for letting me share and thanks to all who share their sightings.  I would have never seen a Tufted Duck or Northern Lapwing without your kindness.

Dee relates how she and Bob “simmered” into birding:

For my husband Bob and I, getting into birding wasn’t so much a spark as a slow simmer. We met in college and liked to take long walks. Along the way, we’d notice a bird here and there. Being curious, when we got home,we would try to look the bird up in a guide only to discover that, not knowing what features to look for, we hadn’t noticed the ones we needed to identify the bird. So… we started taking the field guide with us – only to discover that we couldn’t see the bird well enough to make out the characteristics we needed. So… we started taking along a pair of binoculars – only to discover that one of us would get to see the bird, but by the time the other one got the binoculars the bird was gone. So… we started carrying the bird guide and two pair of binoculars. About that time, we realized that instead of looking at birds while we were taking walks, we were taking walks to look at birds. We had become birders.

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Dana D was “oozed” into birding by a rustic island camp:

Now admittedly it is a long time ago now but I was blessed with having grandparents that read an ad in the mid 1920’s of a cabin for rent on a pond in Center Tuftonboro, NH.  I am told that when the sun rose that next day (after they arrived in the dark) the magic of the pond captured them and a few years later they had built a cabin across the lake.  I was also very fortunate that my Mother loved that spot and I remember the moment that school got out, my parents would pack us up and off we would go for the summer living the life of Huckleberry Finn.  Those of you that have been there know that my side of the lake  is much the same as it was way back when.

But this is the spot where the wonders of the spot just oozed out and enchanted me.  I am not sure now if it was the loons that swam by, or the majestic Scarlet Tanager or my favorite Black-throated Blue Warbler or the Pileated Woodpeckers that first captured me or whether it was that whole experience that propelled me to ask my parents for a bird book for my 8th birthday.  I like the ooze idea!  Now the place is mine and Bob and I spend most of the summer there still entranced by those same experiences and working hard to preserve them.

Common Loons swimming by the camp were part of Dana’s “spark.” photo by mikebaird

We still have to go by boat – we do have a footpath but is like island living.  We still have no electricity and a little house in the woods, and a spring further back in the woods for drinking water .  In the old days we cooked with wood on a big old stove and had to haul in ice for a frig..  Now the “modern” things we have consist of propane tanks that power a frig, stove and a few lights, and recently a solar panel that runs a little demand pump which allows us to have lake water coming out of a kitchen sink and will charge those modern things like my computer and a cell phone.

This influence has propelled me for the rest of my life sustaining a passionate interest in birds – I have been very fortunate as no matter whether I was working at a Mass Audubon summer camp, at Cornell getting to know Allan and Kellogg, teaching biology in India, travelling around the world, or just watching my bird feeders here in North Andover, I know that my disease in incurable and I will always be caught in this wonderful web.

Dick H (VT) was another who started birding very young and has continued for many decades:

Was born and brought up in Winchester, MA and since the age of 8, 1940’s, I asked for Birds of North America, can’t think of the author, and liked to sketch from the pictures in the book and from real life.  Even then, I had to know the names.  When I went fishing at Big Winter Pond, would sit for long periods just watching the birds and testing my knowledge of them in my head. But, as a teenager, I was more interested in sports and not into birding as such, I simply got enjoyment from being outside and knowing as much about the natural history around me as I could at that age.  What sparked a passion for birding as a way of life waited till I was visiting our family place in Maine for a week in May in the late 1950’s.  I saw for the first time a gorgeous male Blackburnian Warbler singing from a spruce tree just outside the house where we were staying!  I would watch in awe! Oh my, that was the moment!!  I was bound and determined to learn the Warblers and set out with my Petersen’s to experience as many as I could find at that time.

The Blackburnian Warbler was a “spark bird” for many, including Dick H. photo by Matt Tillet

Went to different local habitats in the area.  I have never looked back, have loved every moment, from banding in the 60’s and 70’s, going after rarities, being involved with Christmas Counts.  Now that I’m retired and live in Vermont, keeping records of whatever I see on our property is fun for me.  Beyond going out west or to Churchill, I have been fortunate enough that because John Kricher, don’t think he knows this, but through him and his books got me interested in tropical birds. That has led to trips to Africa, Brazil, Panama, Venezuela and Australia.  Many thanks John!!

Jim’s dad was his spark:

My spark was my dad. I was blessed with a father who liked to be outdoors (mainly fishing) but happily supported his son’s obsession with birds. The gasoline to that spark was a very active local birdwatching club. Before I was a teenager I had visited many famous birding spots in England including the Isles of Silly. I progressed to twitching which was great fun until I discovered the opposite sex. Bird photography is the latest iteration of my life long passion. In 2010 I was finally able to take my dad to Scotland to finally see our nemesis bird, a Corn Crake.

Lesley’s grandfather provided the spark:

For me, it was my loving grandfather who adored the outdoors . Although I was born and raised in Marblehead, MA, we had a summer home on a mountain overlooking New Found Lake in NH and it was here that my granddaddy took my brother and myself fishing and hiking in the woods where he would point out the birds, wildlife, and wildflowers. He gave my brother and myself a set of 2 books of birds, they were large books, one was Songbirds and the other was Water Birds and they were filled with the most beautiful colored photos of birds that I longed to see , but the best part of these books was they each came with these flexible plastic records that had all the songs of the birds. This was pure magic for me and although I could not have been more than 8 to 10 years old I was totally hooked, I listened to the records and committed so many songs to memory and was completely enchanted when I found, through song, my first Baltimore Oriole in my very own neighborhood.  I can still remember seeing that first flash of brilliant orange and even found their sling like nest in a big old Elm tree… ya that was like 50 years ago.

Lesley still remembers the oriole’s nest, like this one, from fifty years ago.  photo by Dendroica cerulea

So when I started to become serious with photography 10 years ago, it was just so natural for me to choose birds as one of my main subjects. My world has been so magical since resuming my  love of birds and nature the last 10 years. I have seen birds that I never dreamed I would and so many right under my nose. It is a joyous journey and I am so happy to be on it.

And Fred, inspired by Miss Dickey, has used her as a model to pass the spark on:

I remember no spark. The interest was always there in all kinds of nature. There was no one bird or one event that started me on my path. I think I was born with it. But it wasn’t until I was 8 in 1964 that it really started to grow.=A0 That was when my parents signed me up for the bird club at Children’s Museum in Jamaica Plain, taught by Miss (Miriam E) Dickey.  She fed the sparks into flames which have burned intensely ever since. She fed the desire to learn as much as I possibly could and helped me to see as many birds as I could. The first bird I identified on my own was in the big sugar maple tree in front of the house in West Roxbury shortly after starting in the bird club. A beautiful bird with iridescent purple and green on its feathers, a bright yellow beak, and fluttering its wings as it sang the most amazing complex song. It was the song that grabbed my attention and drew me outside from the bedroom. I memorized the bird, studying it with the binoculars my grampa had given me. Then I ran into the house and identified it from the posters hanging on my wall. My first bird. A European Starling. I was so excited. And so amazed that it was from Europe. The next time in bird club, Miss Dickey told me it wasn’t rare, which was a disappointment,but she did not squelch my enthusiasm, and congratulated me on my identification. Miss Dickey led us on weekly walks at the Arnold Arboretum or around Jamaica Pond and through Sargent’s Estate. Every Saturday AM during the school year. Amazing.

Miss Dickey was a model for me. I am very thankful for her. I have taught grades 3 and 9-12 for over 30 years. Inspired by her I have tried to plant new sparks, and fan already-existing ones into flames in my students and teen bird club members, by getting them out there into nature to experience it first hand, hoping that they will form a heart-connection with nature and a great curiosity about it.  It is a real joy to see this passion for birds (or any kind of nature) take off in their hearts and minds and faces, and sometimes careers.

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As we read the stories from birders, many were sparked by a mentor — an older friend or a parent.  Others were converted by the flash of a Blackburnian Warbler or Northern Cardinal.  Still others were young nature lovers who evolved into birders.  Doug C. has been thinking about this and summarizes it like this:

I find this particular thread on how people acquired their passion for birds to be extremely interesting.   I have always been curious how others got into birding and have asked many. Over the years, I have decided that this acquired passion can be placed into one of three general categories. To paraphrase William Shakespeare, people become dedicated birders by being born into it, or achieving it, or having it thrust upon them.

Some have been toting binoculars since they could walk and have gotten field guides as one of their earliest remembered gifts.  photo by USFWS

Some of us are born to birding.  We are born into a family that is already seized with this passion.  Some are the children of professional ornithologists or naturalists. Some are children to parents who are already dedicated amateur birders.Because these people have been studying birds all through their peak learning years, they are often the most accomplished among us.

Some of us achieve birding.  My Lois is one of those.  A new feeder in the back yard brings in birds one has never seen before and curiosity takes over.  When a person enters birding by achieving it quite often results in it being difficult to know the exact moment when the passion took over.  They start trying to find out what the yellow bird picking at the thistle is, and before they know it they are standing in the rain at the Pipe line road in Panama. The transition is slow but sure and ones’ life has changed.

Gerry Cooperman and I fall into the third category.  We had birding thrust upon us. His conversion took place 9 years before mine but is eerily similar.  The bird he saw through the scope was in a plowed field and was a Killdeer. My experience was also through another’s scope and it occurred on a beach and was a Ruddy Turnstone.  In both cases it was a revelation.  We stepped away from the scope knowing that our lives had changed in a fundamental and profound way.  We were blind but now could see.

An interesting note on my first birding encounter was that the two birders who took me out for the first time at one point became excited and directed me to look at the bird in the scope. “Look at the bill” they encouraged me, “Look at that big black bill.”  It was a rather plain looking plover and although I knew it was exciting by their reaction, I didn’t think it matched my stunning Ruddy Turnstone.  The Turnstone turned me to birding but I also got a Wilson’s Plover as a bonus that I have only appreciated in later years.

Stuart W. was one who began young and has been at it, off and on, for six decades:

Where does it begin?  One of my earliest memories is being held up by my  mother to see a bluebird or robin’s nest in a tangle of leaves next to the back door of our house in Plymouth. Then, as a little boy, I chased robins  across the yard with a salt shaker because I’d been told I could catch one if I could only put salt on its tail.  We moved to Sudbury when I was ten, during an invasion of Evening Grosbeaks that lasted a couple of years or more, and they would mob the feeder I had outside my bedroom window (I also remember a one-legged Chickadee that showed up for at least two years running.)  The next year, in 1959, my father drove me to Concord to see the Hawk Owl that appeared in a mid-town parking lot that winter – the last life bird of the great Ludlow Griscom.  It’s been an erratic trajectory, but one I’ve been on for sixty years.

Walt W. likewise has a lifetime of observing nature, the wonders as well as the environmental changes:

Walt has a 1947 Peterson field guide that he used as a youngster in Ohio.

As a child growing up in Ohio in the ’40s, I was lucky in having fields right behind my house. My lifelong interest in nature was sparked one day as I sat spellbound in a school auditorium watching a live snake show! While I began my nature interest by collecting snakes & other reptiles, my fascination with nature eventually spread to the rest of the natural world, including birds. (I still have a rare 1947 copy of Peterson.) For many years I kept a diary of my nature observations & jaunts which included pencil sketches in the margins.

Although I moved to MA many years ago, I still return occasionally to my Ohio hometown & there to revisit the center of my youthful world–the woods, creeks, & pond at the local golf country club. Little did the golfers realize what a natural paradise existed beyond the greens & fairways! I mapped & named the places where my discoveries were made–Snake Bank, Turtle Peninsula, Oak Ridge, Salamander Creek, Fern Glen, etc. Although much has changed in the years since I roamed this wonderful place, there have been occasional delightful surprises during my visits.

On one return in the summer of 1993, I discovered, to my considerable distress, that a maintenance road had been cut right through the middle of “my” beloved woods (a big island of trees surrounded on all sides by the grassy fairways). But a pleasant surprise awaited me that day! I quote from my notes: “In & around a clearing along the road where tall dead beeches & debris piles existed, there was a concentration of birds: a  Wood Pewee singing from an exposed dead branch; a Carolina Wren calling loudly while searching through the low cover; a flock of both adult & juvenile American Robins on the road itself; Common Grackles; a raucous Blue Jay; American Goldfinches; an American Crow; a pair of Mourning Doves also on the road; Tufted Titmice; a flock of Cedar Waxwings taking flight. The highlight was a family of Red-headed Woodpeckers! The adults were working the dead trees, periodically calling & carrying food to the dark-headed young following them.” Unfortunately, sometime later the entire woods was replaced with a practice green! A sad ending.

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