Possible IBWO Smackdown?

I got an email today announcing NOVA scienceNOW with Robert Krulwich, which premieres Tuesday, January 10, 2006, at 8 PM ET on PBS. The fifth installment of this energetic science magazine series features the top science stories of 2005 including the Ivory-billed Woodpecker. I like how at the bottom they are considering having Jackson and Fitzpatrick at the same time...I'd like to hear a live debate. I wonder if it would stay civil? Part of me wants to hear both sides well laid out and thoughtfully proposed, but the 13 year old inside me would really like to see it degenerate into an all out name calling fight that might even end in something like "You could bird yourself out of a wet paper bag!" or "You wouldn't know a Campephilus double knock even if one used your gigantic nose as a resonator!" I don't think it would add anything to science, I just think it might take the edge off of those birders are geek rumors.

However, the series is on PBS so I doubt my dream will come true. Here's the announcement:

EXTINCTION-- IVORY BILLED WOODPECKER
Correspondent Carla Wohl reports on a cautiously hopeful story from the world of nature that is causing a controversy: the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, a creature long thought to be extinct, may have returned from the brink. The last confirmed sighting of the bird occurred in 1944, until recent claims of encounters in an Arkansas cypress swamp began emerging last year. Right now, the only hard visual evidence is a scrap of blurry video taken by David Luneau, a professor at the University of Arkansas, but the experts disagree on it.

John Fitzpatrick, the head of Cornell’s respected ornithology department is unequivocal that it is an Ivory Bill. Jerome Jackson, an ornithologist at Florida Gulf Coast University, is not convinced. Meanwhile, several audio recordings have also been made and examined. Plus, Luneau has placed motion-detecting cameras in promising places in the woods, since nothing less than an 8x10 glossy of this elusive bird will convince the most cynical skeptics of its comeback.

I also was hoping you'll be able to link to this cool package online, in time for the accompanying on-air NOVA premiere on January 10.

Ivory Billed Woodpecker
Ask the Expert-Ornithologist John Fitzpatrick of Cornell University answers viewer questions on the Ivory Billed woodpecker. [Note: Also considering having Dr. Jackson share ATE with Fitzpatrick. He is a skeptic.]

Job Opening

I tried to get Non Birding Bill to apply for this so that way I could use him as my puppet to do my bidding and finally take complete control of the North American birding world but he flat out said "No! I will not be used in such a fashion!"

(oops, did I say the queit part loud again?) Anyway, interesting job available:

PRESIDENT/CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER–The Board of Directors of the American Birding Association (ABA) invites applications for President/Chief Executive Officer. The ABA, the leading North American non-profit membership birding organization, provides leadership and guidance for field birders with a rich array of publications, educational programs, meetings, partnerships, and networks. The ABA, located in Colorado Springs, expects its President/CEO: To possess a thorough understanding of financial management of non-profit organizations, including budgeting, and budget implementation. To understand and share passion for wild birds of the North American birding community; To provide strong, visionary leadership that inspires the board, staff, and membership, while developing the organization's potential; To have strong personnel management skills that includes team-building and conflict resolution. Additional skills needed are: Proven leadership in managing a non-profit organization; Experience in fundraising and development; Excellent oral and written communication; A strong working knowledge of staff-board relations; Ability to conduct and implement long-term strategic planning. Salary commensurate with experience. Additional information about the American Birding Association may be obtained on the ABA website (URL: http://www.americanbirding.org). To apply, please submit a cover letter, curriculum vitae, and three references with contact information (including addresses, phone numbers, and email) to: CAROL WALLACE, Executive Assistant, American Birding Association, 4945 N 30th Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80919-3151.

Ivory-billed Woodpecker Product Lines

Are you desperate to find the perfect gift for that birder who seems to have everything, except for an ivory-billed woodpecker on their life list? Then, The Ivory-bill Nest (870-734-5001) is the shop for you! They do not have a website up yet, so if you see something in this entry you really like, you will need to give them a call.

Besides all the ivory-bill eating and sleeping that can be done in Brinkley, there are also all the shopping opportunities. This shop had a wide and fun (and kinda odd) selection of products all dedicated to the awe-inspiring logcock. Products ranged from hats, shirts, purses, paintings, lucky charms (not the cereal), earrings, notecards, etc. I haven't seen merchandising like this since Pikachu.

In talking with Lisa the owner, she was very interested in our experience with the local people in and around Brinkley. Overall everyone was very nice. She asked about hunters and for the most part they were incredibly friendly--I myself was often offered beer and/or rides on their ATVs. My favorite was a group that I met who were taking down their deer stand for the season. One of them was an older gentleman wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt with a round little belly sticking out. When we saw me approaching he quickly closed up one button right over is belly button. It was a very sweet gesture.

Anyway, Lisa was curious because some hunters have been a little vocal and weary about what this woodpecker in their woods means. She said that her own husband fought her tooth and nail to open that shop but she said that she went ahead and opened The Ivory-bill Nest anyway. She's a neat gal, so be sure to stop in and say hi if you visit Brinkley.

One of my hands down favorite shirts was "Got Pecker? We Do!" I had to chuckle because at one point I overheard a lady say, "Oh, they have such vulgar shirts at that shop! Got Pecker, can you imagine?" I giggled and she said, "I suppose at your age you think that's clever." I pulled up my sweater and revealed my shirt that reads "Hot All-Bird Action" and said, "You're talking to a girl who made up this shirt." The desired effect of a disgruntled look from the lady was achieved and of course I had to throw in, "I was going to get my mom one of those pecker shirts but they didn't have them in her size." Which is the honest truth, anyone who has ever met my mother would agree that shirt suits her. She is simultaneously one of the wackiest yet most intelligent people you will ever meet. She can have an in depth conversation with a college professor over Shakespeare, Bronte or Steinbeck. Heck, she'll even throw in some Stephen Hawking or Carl Sagan into the mix, but she'll never turn down a good pecker joke. Alas, it is hard to find shirts for my mother who is only four foot eight inches.

I did get one of the "Got Pecker?" Camo hats but almost got the "Where's Dat Der Peckerwood?" instead. It was a tough choice. One bummer thing about the "Got Pecker?" shirts is that they do not include an image of the ivory-bill which is half the fun.

There were of course hand painted ivory-billed holiday ornaments, and I just couldn't resist the kitsch of the sparkley silver one with an ivory-bill flying across it. Maybe that's why it is so hard to see this bird, we need to start using disco balls!

The ivory-billed artwork was kind of all over the place for my taste. I don't know if I'm really of good judge of art since my music taste runs from David Bowie to the Grease 2 Soundtrack (it's a sickness, I know) Here is a sampling and I will let you be the judge of what is art and what is not:

Our group spent most of our money on the t-shirts which are available in short and long sleeved and in a variety of colors. I got Non Birding Bill a red one of these (he looks very good in red):

I did find this shirt in my mom's size and got this for a Christmas present for her (don't worry, I'm not spoiling her surprise, she checks my blog about as often as I clean house).

And if that art work doesn't suit you or if you want to impress your friends you can get an official Ivory-bill University shirt that shows you got schooled in good ole Brinkley and now have the strongest bird fu when it comes to Campephilus principalis.

And on the off chance that you did not get to see the woodpecker in the swamp, you can still have your photo taken with an ivory-billed. Ivory-bills on your shoulder make you happy. Note: this sculpture was not made to actual ivory-bill size.

Brinkley, It's a Helluva Town!

Just a quick note, if there is anyone who reads this blog who is going on the Cornell Ivory Bill search and has questions about living conditions and supplies to bring, please feel free to email me privately with questions.

Many in the fair town of Brinkley have embraced the idea of having the rarest woodpecker in North America nearby. If you go on a trip down to look for the oh-so-elusive woodpecker, you can certainly bask in the its glory by eating, sleeping and buying the Ivory -bill. I did not stay at the Ivory Billed Inn and RV Park (1-800-800-8000) but it looks like a lovely hotel on the outside. I was thinking it would be fun if they did it like a theme hotel and the rooms were all woodpecker cavities with sawdust floors and beetle larvae shaped pillows. But again, that may just be me who would find that fun. There is a Mexican restaurant attached to the Inn which as wonderful festive decor and wonderful food--even some vegetarian selections too. When you visit the restaurant, make sure to visit the restrooms, they will knock your socks off...in an artistic decorating sense, not in the usual gross sense.

One of the must dos of visiting Brinkley is dining at Gene's Barbecue and Restaurant and eating the famed Ivory-billed Burger: two beef patties with lettuce, tomato, pepper jack bacon, mozzarella cheese and mayonnaise (pictured, right). I have to admit, it was a mighty tasty burger. You can also order the Ivory-bill Salad which consists of lettuce, tomato, sunflower seeds (a nice touch considering the bird theme), mozzarella and chicken (because that's what ivory-bills essentially taste like). And if you want to round out a complete ivory-bill dinner you can top it off with the official Ivory-bill Brownie! If an Ivory-billed full course meal is not your cup of tea, the barbecue is very good--just the way I like it, on the tangy side. Gene's also serves breakfast but surprisingly did not have an Ivory-billed omelet.

The marketing of the bird didn't end there, the restaurant also sells their own ivory-billed t-shirts (left). The back of the shirt reads "Don't Worry Be Happy" which I wonder is meant to be a message to hunters who might be understandably concerned about the woodpecker discovery and whether or not they will have future access to traditional hunting grounds. When our group walked into the restaurant I think we stood out in our LL Bean and Land's End clothing. Perhaps they were thinking, "Who are these nutty people going in to look for one bird?"

If you want to blend in with the locals, I recommend buying some camo, everyone wears it. I found a very nice warm fleece camo jacket at the local Walmart. Overall, the townsfolk our very nice and friendly. I just learned today that I will probably be going back to Arkansas for the Call of the Wild Ivory-billed Woodpecker Celebration in February and look forward to visiting Brinkley again.

No Comment

I'm so tired. That is me, with team member Jeff Gordon on the iced up Cache River. I am so excited, I now have notes and information that will be stored in Cornell's Macaulay Library, kind of a childhood dream of mine.

Well, I am back and I want to thank Julie for doing a tremendous job of taking over the blog while I was gone. I was catching up on the entries last night and I think the photo of Chet Baker sitting at the table staring at his birthday stew is my favorite. I laughed for a good ten minutes over that one. I also see my clever plan worked, I have suspected that Julie would make a great blogger and sure enough after running this blog she has started her own. WHOO HOO!

I have so much stuff to show and tell! Some will show up here, some will show up on Cornell's site. Some will show up within the next few days, some will show up within the next few months. Two weeks of intense birding cannot be dumped into one post.

I have to say that I was going into this a little nervous - nine people crammed into a small living space working long hours is usually the stuff of reality television ( I would say bad reality television, but that would be redundant). But I have to say that this was the best group I have ever gone birding with. Sometimes a situation like this can bring out intense competiveness and then that leads to everyone trying to prove themselves and egos get in the way. I truly felt that we were on a level playing field and I honestly enjoyed everyone's company on our team.

Alright, now I have to sort through photos and get ready for another post later today. Right now I'm going to rejoice in food that doesn't require being mixed with boiling water for two minutes before you eat it, high speed internet, not getting up at 4:45am, wearing only one layer of clothing around the house, wearing clothing that doesn't make me walk like mallard or with the same coloration, and snuggling up to Non Birding Bill.

There's Sports, and then there's...


Coming home today, the most extraordinary sky appeared as we crested a hill and came out of the woods--a mackerel sky, pearly and lit softly from above and below. The sun was shining through it as through a lattice, making dozens of little glory rays. I was so glad I had my camera. The skies and the moon lately have been stunning. Liam and I rode home the back way just to admire the moon last night--to get away from streetlights and other cars.
Squeezed a walk into our busy day today, much of it spent at Phoebe's holiday basketball tournament. Phoebe plays basketball more like her mother than like her super-athletic daddy; she dreams across the court. I remember treating team sports as a chance to hide in the farthest outfield and watch birds and clouds. I loved being in the outfield, but not because I could catch or throw. I identify completely with Phoebe's look of intense ennui as she waits out her time on court. Basketball has been wonderful for her in terms of feeling part of a team, and she's bonded closely with the other girls in the process. It's been good.

Moving Scooby Doo is a sport better suited to my proclivities. Namely, one I invented. I stink at following anyone else's rules. See, it's a one-dog sport. We've got Scoob all the way past the oilwell now. Chet really digs bettering his last carrying record. I love the fact that he gets the whole point and he doubtless loves hearing my laughter as he gives Scoob a good shaking, then gallops ahead on the trail, the deflated ball flopping against his chest. When I was thinking about which breed of dog would best fit our lifestyle, my number one priority was that it have a sense of humor. After that, I wanted short hair and a smallish but athletic build. The googly eyes and smashy face went along with the package.

I thought I'd show you the well jack to whom we owe our toasty-warm home--it pumps the free gas. You can see Scooby in the lower right corner of the photo. It'll be interesting to see how Chet handles moving Scooby once we enter the woods. And even more interesting to see if he'll leap the stream or charge up the steep hill we call the Cut while bearing his load. Well, I've been messing about with this entry for a good hour now, when I was supposed to be at a Christmas party. I guess I've joined the ranks of those with blog fever. I have so enjoyed sharing this beautiful life with you all, even though I've no idea how many of you there are, or who you are. How odd! I hope you'll come visit me at my blog when Sharon takes back the reins at Birdchick. Seems like we ought to be hearing from her any time now. Is no news...good news? The less we hear, the better? Halooooo out there! Cottonmouth got yer tongue?

Heartlessness as a Horticultural Virtue

I've decided that heartlessness is an asset in greenhouse keeping. I've seen plenty of hobbyist's greenhouses that were more like catacombs, full of overgrown plants, dried out, miserable, unloved and smothered in their own dead foliage. You definitely can't turn your back on a greenhouse; you've got to constantly monitor the temperature, move things around so they don't get chilled or baked in the sun, clean and most importantly cut things back and THROW THEM OUT. I've been hearing the screams from my little 9' round Garden Pod for a couple of weeks now. There was a red mandevilla that had taken over the door and several pots around it with long, twining tendrils, and two planters full of cuttings taken in September that HAD to be potted up. I am a collector of plants, and there are many plants I can't live without. This variegated alpine geranium, this Laguna lobelia with the white eye; dozens of fancy-leaved, dwarf and miniature gerania. There are so many plants to love, and only so much room in the Pod.
The really cool thing about plants is that all you need is a cutting, a snippet, the DNA you're after. I take cuttings while things are growing madly in September, and they root well. But just to be sure, I bring the mother plants in until I'm certain I've got viable rooted cuttings. So the Pod was overstuffed with giant planters, full of giant plants, that were too beautiful to toss out. But there comes a time for everything, and , as beautiful as they were, these mother plants were no longer needed. More than that, they were blocking light from their children, the cuttings that I spent the day potting up. They had to go. So I steeled myself, and tossed out six planters' worth. The snow gently covered them as they lay on the compost heap. Yes, heartlessness is an asset. I'm sorry, mother plants, I truly am, but you're too big now, and I'll carry on with cuttings. Here they are, neatly potted and labeled. Greenhouses should be places of burgeoning growth and renewal, not death and decadence. A contented sigh from the Pod and its heartless keeper. Let it snow. I've got Aruba in my little greenhouse.

Jazz and Freezing Rain

It rained all day today, the kind of day that makes me glad I'm not a white-tailed deer or a junco. Imagine being out in pouring rain, when it's 36 degrees outside. And all you've got to keep you warm, after your fur or feathers are soaked through, is food. I stoked the suet dough and mealworms and seed feeders and marveled at the strength of these tiny birds, surviving elements that would kill a human in hours.
Meanwhile, we stay inside, warmed by the natural gas that wells up from the oil well on our land. I know this sounds like something from the Beverly Hillbillies, but there is an oil well on our land, and the natural gas that sits atop the oil makes its way to our house through an orange PVC pipe that runs along the edge of our meadow. They call it Free Gas. It's good stuff, too, straight out of the earth and hot as Hades, and you can boil a teakettle in a couple of minutes. We get a royalty on the oil that's sold off our well each month, if the oil and gas company remembers to pay it. It's nice all around. The pump jack is one of those things that looks like a drinking bird; it's on a timer, and it dips up and down for a few hours each day, pumping oil into a storage tank. There are so many side benefits to living in the middle of nowhere, in a place that is rich in oil and gas deposits, that sometimes we do feel like the Beverly Hillbillies, passing our pots with pool cues.
Bill is a gifted musician, and he plays bass and guitar. He's in demand as a jazz bassist, with his fretless Peavey. Every Sunday, he plays a brunch gig at the Blennerhassett Hotel in Parkersburg, WV. This is an immaculately restored historic hotel near the Ohio River, with oversized leather chairs and wonderful bartenders. It's easy to forget you're in West Virginia, and imagine yourself in Chicago or New York when you hear the music and sip a Cosmopolitan. Sometimes, Bill III plays there with his dad, Bill Jr., his honorary uncle Bruce DeMoll, and peerless drummer Chet Backus (no, not Chet Baker!). These four have a musical language that comes from years of collaboration. When his mom Elsa sings, it's really heavenly. My favorite thingto watch is the two Bills' heads bobbing in
unison. I hope my Bill grows up like his daddy. Listening to their music is the perfect counterpoint to hanging out with the kids all day. It feels like a grown-up thing to do.

Zen Morning, Babylon Day


The backroads leading from our home to Marietta are so seductive. Every time I resolve to take the main road, which saves about ten minutes, I turn off as if pulled by a magnet on my favorite backwoods route. I can't resist it. Today, there were unexpected sheep and goats on a white hill against a leaden sky. This is the kind of road that allows sudden stops and lingering. Good thing. I'd have been flattened long ago if there were much traffic on it.

I would bet that many people are unfamiliar with the concept of meat goats. Most of us think of dairy goats when we think of goats. But people around here raise goats for meat. They're different from dairy breeds--much blockier, but no less intelligent. I cannot imagine raising a goat and then eating it. There's something in their eyes that seems to reach into one's soul. This is a meat goat, alone on the crest of the hill.

I hadn't gone much farther when I found the horned larks that Bill said would
be in the freshly manured field along the same road. They were no more than a fleeting glimpse as they disappeared over the hill. The crows made a bolder statement. I spent the rest of the day in town, running around like a crazy person, provisioning our house for the next week, running errands, and matting and framing paintings and prints. I much preferred the morning, which was spare and stark, and all about composition.