February 2016

Birding Prospect Hill, Waltham, and the Cambridge Reservoir

Mon, 01 Feb 2016 00:00:00 GMT

Because migrant flocks and most of the breeders can be found throughout the park, the loop described here covers only a few exceptional highlights. The full loop will take most of a morning and includes several steep areas. However, by driving up the hill in spring through fall, you can access most of the park with only a short walk. If you work nearby, a 30-minute to an hour stop at lunchtime could be almost as rewarding as a full circuit.

Starting from the rear parking lot at the base of the hill, check the trees and bushes on the right, which pass a small basketball court and lead into a little clearing. This corner had been the most reliable spot for Pileated Woodpecker in the park, but the trees have fallen over, so they are even more hit or miss now. Back to the left, the bushes at the bottom of the former ski slope are also worth checking.

There are three ways up the hill: the ski slope, the road, and the trail by the basketball court. The slope opens and has the best view of the sky for fall hawkwatching about halfway up by a stand of birch trees. The low brush along the slope provides a slightly different habitat from the rest of the park. I will describe the road on the way downhill. We will take the basketball trail to go uphill. This trail splits a short distance up the hill. Staying straight will connect with the ski slope at about the halfway point. Heading right will either make a slightly longer loop to the same spot or, if it isn’t overgrown, lead to a trail that you can follow almost to the top of the slope.

Walk straight up the basketball trail to where it rejoins the ski slope, where it is worth walking a short distance back down the ski slope. After checking the clearing just above the birch stand, retrace your steps, then continue up. The top half of the slope normally has several pairs of Indigo Buntings in summer, and you can often find some of the other forest breeders in the taller trees on the edge or hear them singing.

At the top of the slope, you will reach the road as it passes between two large water storage tanks. Check around both tanks. The first juncos of the fall are often here well ahead of other areas, and there are recent records of juncos oversummering. To the left, the paved Whitney Trail leads off to the southeast; follow it through the gate and down about a quarter-mile to the end.

Black-throated Green Warbler, Prospect Hill. All photographs by the author.

At the end of the trail, there is a large communication tower—possibly to get even larger in the near future. You will find more Indigo Buntings here, and the early morning sun makes this a very good spot first thing in the morning. Slightly below the tower, one of two Worm-eating Warblers in the park set up territory in 2009.

After checking out the tower area, start back up the Whitney Trail. If you are up for a steep climb, look for the sign for the Pine Ledges Trail on the right. Do not take the trail at the sign, but continue to an unsigned trail about 50 feet farther. A small pile of rocks marks this trail, but if you can’t find it, take the labeled Pine Ledges Trail and walk along the left side of the stone wall until the trail becomes more obvious after a short distance. This trail leads to a staircase that heads down into a nice area with a stream and some extremely large pines. Black-throated Green Warblers have been on territory and Winter Wrens have been singing here on several occasions. For people who don’t want to deal with the stairs, you can drive up Bacon Street to Greenwood Lane, park at the corner of Cowassat Lane and Greenwood Lane, and walk in through there.

Return to the Whitney Trail and either take this trail back to the road or take the Ridge Trail up. Either way, you end up at Big Prospect, the higher of the two hills in the park. Common Ravens have been nesting on the old radio tower here for several years now and are likely to be nearby for most of the year. Also, here is the Sunset Shelter, which offers a decent view to the west, including some of the Cambridge Reservoir. There is room for several cars here, making it a good starting point for a short check when the road is open.

Turn south on the Ridge Trail to make the trip from Big Prospect to Little Prospect. At the low point between the two hills, the Valley Shelter will be on the right. A couple trails head left, but I generally just continue on the Ridge Trail, which heads back uphill toward Little Prospect.

About halfway up the trail, there is an unlabeled trail that leads off to the left and eventually reaches a sharp drop-off. This site gives a nice view of the tops of the trees below and is where the second Worm-eating Warbler set up a territory. Red-breasted Nuthatches have also been found around here in all seasons.

At the top of Little Prospect is a small rocky outcrop. Scan the skies quickly, but better views are found by walking down to the road and then out to the bench below. There is a tiny population of the state-listed red-bellied tiger beetle at this outcrop.

Common Raven, Prospect Hill.

There are two choices here: follow the Boston Rock Trail down to the Wood Trail from the bench or follow the road. We’ll follow the road. A short distance down, you’ll pass the Summer House shelter on the right and two bathrooms—the only ones in the park—on the left. Just ahead will be the gated road down to the back entrance. Either follow the road or walk off to the left and find the Summer House Trail, which has another steep staircase.

Continuing on the park road will take you past the Wood Trail and then to the southern back entrance to the park, which is on Prospect Hill Road near James Street. Parking is available on the street, but note that parking is prohibited near the gate itself.

From near this back entrance, take the Butterick Trail through an area that has several vernal pools and can be very productive. After about a quarter-mile, the Butterick Trail intersects with the Maloy Trail, which first starts in a southerly direction and then loops northward to follow the western edge of the park.

To return to the north entrance on Totten Pond Road, follow the Maloy Trail, which merges after about a half-mile into the Bond Trail and then a quarter-mile later into the Sunset Trail. An additional one third-mile on the Sunset trail will return you to the park road for the half-mile return to the north entrance and the parking lot. Along this route, there are also a number of smaller trails that lead back to the road between the Sunset Shelter and Summer House. Just before the Sunset Trail begins to pass some of the buildings from the office park, you can take a little walk off to the left and get another good view of the sky. This spot has been good for raptors. Depending on how far the construction of the shopping center below has progressed, keep an eye and ear out for Prairie Warbler, Brown Thrasher, Killdeer, and swallows.

Once the trail reaches the road, you can follow straight ahead to return to the parking lot. If you turn right instead, the next right leads south to the Valley Shelter and then loops all the way around back to Big Prospect. Going straight instead of right leads back to the water tanks and the ski slope.

Explore the hill. There’s always something of interest, whether you’re taking a quick trip along the road or hiking to the furthest corners.

Greater and Lesser Scaup, Cambridge Reservoir

Cambridge Reservoir

The Cambridge Reservoir is about a mile west of Prospect Hill and is almost always worth a quick scan. The deep, southern end is one of the best sites around for diving ducks, grebes, and loons, and the northern end often dries out enough to be productive for shorebirds. Views of just about everything are distant, and a scope is a necessity.

The office parks along the reservoir make for quite a bit of traffic, so it can be difficult to bird during the work week, especially around rush hours. Weekends generally have little traffic, which means it is usually easy to pull over just about anywhere. Land off the road is marked no trespassing, so staying on the road is a requirement.

From the main Prospect Hill parking lot, take a left onto Totten Pond Road heading west and get into the right lane after crossing over Interstate 95. From the north, take Interstate 95 south to Exit 27B–Winter Street. From the south, take Exit 27A–Winter Street Totten Pond Road, take a right off the ramp, and then bear right and loop south on Wyman Street to Winter Street, where you should take a right to head west about a half-mile to the reservoir.

Cambridge Reservoir and Hobbs Brook

As the reservoir appears on the right, pull over opposite Sylvan Road if it is safe to do so. The rocks often have cormorants, and some of the diving ducks can be found here. If there is too much traffic to pull over along the edge, there is a dirt pulloff on the other side of the road, although you will have to drive some distance to find a safe place to turn around.

Follow the road—which goes across the Hobbs Brook dam at this point—as it bends sharply right and begins to head north along the western shore of the reservoir. A scaup flock often likes this corner in fall, but it can be quite difficult to find a safe vantage point. The trees then block your view for a short distance, but it will eventually open up. The recently added bike lane can make it easier to park and avoid traffic at all but the busiest times. However, do keep an eye out for bikes and joggers and do not drive in the bike lane. If stopping for a minute to scan, pull as close to the guardrail as possible to stay out of as much of the bike lane as you can. If you are going to take some time, it is better to park on the other side of the road, where there is a wider shoulder.

Pectoral Sandpiper, Hobbs Brook

As soon as you can see the water again, pull over. The area in front of the island is the best spot for loons, grebes, and scoters. For several years, Bald Eagles roosted in the big dead tree on the island. The tree has mostly fallen now, and the eagles don’t have any single roost but they can be found just about anywhere at any time of year. So far, there has been no sign of nesting, but it is expected sooner or later.

Continue north and pull over and scan wherever something catches your attention. The large flock of Ring-necked Ducks that builds over the fall can be anywhere on the reservoir and often attracts other waterfowl, with more than 30 species recorded. A big flock of coots also often builds up in fall. Terns and Bonaparte’s Gulls have occurred in spring and during storms in early fall. Spring can also bring in good numbers of swallows, although they often are too far out to see well. The reservoir does eventually freeze in winter, in which case it’s worth scanning the ice for ravens and eagles, especially if a deer carcass appears.

Black-crowned Night-Heron, Hobbes Brook.

Winter Street eventually enters woods, crosses into the town of Lincoln, bends left, and becomes one way. Take a right at the stop sign onto Old County Road, which is about a mile from the dam. If you feel like walking, especially in spring, there is room for a single car to park just after turning. Old County Road is narrow and winding, so be very careful if you decide to stop. My recommendation is either to take the spot at the stop sign or continue about three-quarters of a mile to park by Trapelo Road and walk from there if something is worth scoping. On days with bright sun, viewing can be even more difficult.

After going over two speed bumps, there is a gate just before Trapelo Road and enough room to park on the right. The Ring-neck flock sometimes is found here, and there are often good numbers of dabbling ducks around, mostly American Wigeon and occasionally Gadwall. The edges of the road can hold migrants as well.

Turning right on Trapelo Road will take you back to Route I-95, but you can also continue straight on Old County Road and scan more. About a quarter mile north of Trapelo Road, there is enough room to pull over. With the exception of this one spot, it can be difficult to find a good place to stop on this stretch of road, though fortunately there is very little traffic outside of the afternoon rush hour. Old County Road ends at Route 2 where the only option is to turn right for access to the eastbound lanes. Just before reaching Route 2, there is water on both sides that can be quite low and have shorebirds, but be careful when stopping here.

Across Route 2 is the section of the reservoir referred to as Hobbs Brook <http:// ebird.org/ebird/hotspot/L976923>. To reach it, take Route 2 west from Exit 28 of Route I-95 and turn right at the top of the hill on Lexington Road. After about 0.1 mile, bear right to continue heading east on Lexington Road, which becomes Lincoln Street at the town line. The reservoir will soon appear on the right, south side of the road. Either stop carefully right here; or drive a short distance farther, turn around at the first driveway, and park as close to the brush as you can; or drive to the overpass and park where the road widens then walk back. Traffic is not as bad as on Winter Street, but much of it is landscaping trucks, and the road is also popular with bicyclists, so be careful.

Walk along the road and check from several vantage points as birds can hide among the rocks. Peeps, Killdeer, and yellowlegs predominate but just about any shorebird is possible. Herons and egrets can also occur in numbers and American Pipits are frequent in fall. If there is more water and less mud, waterfowl can be of interest. Both Cackling and Greater White-fronted geese have occurred, and teal and Northern Shoveler are fairly regular.

On the north side of the road is a channel that often has Solitary Sandpipers and Green Herons. Also keep an eye on the trees and wires where many warblers, flycatchers, and swallows can perch.

As you continue to travel east on Lexington Road, the first driveway on the left on the north side of the road can be filled with sparrows, and the wooded area east of the houses often has more warblers. On the right, the south side, there is another area of the reservoir that can be filled with shorebirds, although it is very hard to scan without trespassing. Stick your head in at the used path at the concrete blocks on the south side of the road just beyond the houses.

As you near the overpass that carries Route I-95 over Lexington Road, you will have a bit of a view of the water and mud. Besides shorebirds, this area often has ducks. One year, a Yellow-crowned Night-Heron was briefly present. The bushes right at the overpass and the woods leading back are very good for warbler flocks at times.

To reach Route 2 westbound, you can return west on Lexington Road. Alternatively, to reach Route 2 eastbound or Route I-95, just continue east on Lexington Road–Lincoln Street. Stay left at the fork and continue on Lincoln Street until you reach Marrett Road–Route 2A. From this intersection, you can either turn left to reach Route I-95, or turn right to follow Route 2A to the intersection with Spring Street, where another right will return you to Route 2.

Both ends of the reservoir are easily accessible and easy to check quickly. There may not be something every time, but conditions can change daily, so frequent visits are rewarding.

Jason Forbes is a lifelong resident of Waltham. He’d rather be birding than driving and therefore spends most of his time locally. He is almost at his goal of 300 species within two towns of the Waltham/Lexington line.

Fifth Report of the Maine Bird Records Committee

Mon, 01 Feb 2016 00:00:00 GMT

Records Accepted

Sagadahoc joined the growing number of counties in Maine with records of Pink-footed Goose when Robin Robinson and her Christmas Bird Count team found this bird on December 14, 2013. It remained one more day. Photograph, December 15, 2013, by Mike Fahay.

Pink-footed Goose (Anser brachyrhynchus)

#2013-014: October 19, 2013, Collins Pond, Caribou, Aroostook, Bill Sheehan†. Maine’s fourth Pink-footed Goose, and the first for goose-friendly Aroostook.
#2013-021: December 14-15, 2013, Mill Cove, West Bath, Sagadahoc, Robin Robinson†, Mike Fahay†. Discovered within a flock of 68 Canada Geese by Robinson and companions during a Christmas Bird Count, Maine’s fifth Pink-footed Goose (all since 2009) was relocated by Fahay the next day.

A first for Aroostook County, this Ross’s Goose was found September 29, 2013. The caruncles at the base of the bill are especially extensive on this individual. Photograph by Bill Sheehan.

Ross’s Goose (Chen rossii)

#2013-010: September 29–October 5, 2013, Limestone, Aroostook, Bill Sheehan†. Maine’s fifth Ross’s Goose, and an overdue first for Aroostook, spent a week with up to 1600 Canada Geese at Limestone Mill Pond on the north side of town. There is a novel form of documentation in the form of Google Earth satellite imagery, which captured Sheehan, next to his parked truck, scoping the pond containing one small white dot among hundreds of darker dots.

Barnacle Goose (Branta leucopsis)

#2013-019: October 29, 2013, Limestone, Aroostook, Tanya Byram†. Briefly observed with Canada Geese at the Mill Pond in Limestone.

Tufted Duck (Aythya fuligula)

#2014-002: April 6, 2014, Bowdoinham, Sagadahoc, Mike Fahay*†. Adult male seen with Ring- necked Ducks and a Greater Scaup in Merrymeeting Bay.

Brown Booby (Sula leucogaster)

Occurrences of Brown Booby in New England have increased dramatically in recent years. Maine’s second, a juvenile, was found on the south side of Eastern Egg Rock by one of Project Puffin’s seasonal biologists on July 16, 2013. Photograph by Kate MacNamee.

#2013-005: July 16, 2013, Eastern Egg Rock, Knox, Kate MacNamee*†. Maine’s second Brown Booby, a juvenile, was found roosting on rocks with Double-crested Cormorants and flew off after about 20 minutes.

Swallow-tailed Kite (Elanoides forficatus)

#2014-003: May 7, 2014. Brunswick and Pownal, Cumberland, Lois Gerke†, Katrina Fenton. Photographed by Gerke in Brunswick, undoubtedly the same bird was seen later in the day from the nearby Bradbury Mountain hawkwatch in Pownal.

Northern Lapwing (Vanellus vanellus)

Wing tip pattern and primary formula in this and other photos suggest this Northern Lapwing was an immature female (Meissner et al. 2013). Maine’s fourth, it was present April 4 to 5, 2014. (Photograph by Peter Vickery.)

#2014-001: April 4-5, 2014, Cape Elizabeth, Cumberland, Lysle Brinker†, Doug Hitchcox†, Peter Vickery†, many observers. Maine’s fourth Northern Lapwing, discovered in a farm field by Brinker, may have lingered from an incursion of lapwings into eastern North America over the winter of 2012–2013.

Ash-throated Flycatcher (Myiarchus cinerascens)

An immature Ash-throated Flycatcher was found on Monhegan Island October 21, 2013. There are many fewer records of this species before early November in the Northeast, except in 2011 when several occurred in a similar time-frame as this bird. A freshly molted in formative central rectrix shows well. Photograph by Travis Mazerall.

#2013-018: October 21, 2013, Monhegan Island, Lincoln, Travis Mazerall*†. Monhegan’s second Ash-throated Flycatcher was an apparent immature beginning its first prebasic molt.

Bell’s Vireo (Vireo bellii)

#2013-015: October 22, 2013, Bailey Island, Harpswell, Cumberland, Derek Lovitch*, Jeanette Lovitch. First round (8-1). Although they were unable to get photographs, the detailed description presented in Lovitch’s blog convinced most to accept the report as Maine’s fourth record of Bell’s Vireo.

Hermit Warbler (Setophaga occidentalis)

Maine’s second Hermit Warbler was an immature female present from November 18 to December 13, 2013. Photograph by Charlotte Hewson taken December 12, 2013.

#2013-020: November 18–December 13, 2013, Harpswell, Cumberland. Charlotte Hewson†, Derek Lovitch†. Maine’s second Hermit Warbler, an apparent immature female, frequented a Cundy’s Harbor feeding station for nearly a month. Originally reported as a Black-throated Green Warbler, the correct identification was not made until two days before it was last seen, and privacy concerns for local residents resulted in a belated report of its true identity.

Black-headed Grosbeak (Pheucticus melanocephalus)

#2014-004: May 14-15, 2014, Monhegan Island, Lincoln, Malcolm Burson*, Geoff Dennis†. Adult male photographed at Donna Cundy’s feeding station. One amazing photo included a continuing male Painted Bunting in the background!

Records Not Accepted

Mississippi Kite (Ictinia mississippiensis)

#2014-005: May 15, 2014, Bradbury Mountain, Pownal, Cumberland. First round (2-7). Although likely correctly identified, this report from the Bradbury Mountain hawkwatch lacked details.

Eurasian Collared-Dove (Streptopelia decaocto)

#2013-009: June 7, 2013, Searsport, Waldo. Second round (0-9). The details in the written report did not eliminate the possibility of domestic turtle-dove.

Bell’s Vireo (Vireo bellii)

#2013-016: October 30, 2013, Phippsburg, Sagadahoc. First round (1-8). Although most felt the description of this briefly observed bird was consistent with Bell’s Vireo, the possibility of other species could not be eliminated.

Corrections

In the previous ME-BRC report (Persons et al. 2015) the initial date for the Little Egret #2012-013 was incorrectly given as July 8 when it should have read August 8. The town and county for record Bridled Tern #2011-006 was incorrectly given as Stratton Island, Old Orchard Beach, Cumberland. Stratton Island is actually within the jurisdiction of Saco, York. Citations to Stratton Island in previous reports have also incorrectly ascribed it to Old Orchard Beach: Yellow-nosed Albatross #2006-005 and Fork-tailed Flycatcher #2006-007 (Sheehan and Vickery 2007), the latter record mistakenly published again in Sheehan and Vickery 2009a.

Several records in previous reports have placed Seal Island in Criehaven Township, Knox, but the island is in the jurisdiction of Vinalhaven, Knox: Yellow-nosed Albatross #2008-007 in Sheehan and Vickery 2009b; Red-billed Tropicbird #2005-006, #2006-013, #2007-005 in Sheehan and Vickery 2007, 2009a, 2009b; and Ash-throated Flycatcher #2007-007 in Sheehan and Vickery 2009b.

The Black-browed Albatross #1978-001 at Lumbo Ledge was published (Persons et al. 2015) as being in Sagadahoc but the ledge is actually in Cumberland.

The Yellow-billed Loon #2010-013 was published (Persons et al. 2015) as offshore Portland, but it was more precisely 7.3 miles off Cape Elizabeth, Cumberland (the headland and town by that name).

Last, a record number was duplicated for two different records, with #2005-007 given to a Plumbeous Vireo at Matinicus Rock (Sheehan and Vickery 2009a) and an Eared Grebe at Roque Bluffs (Persons et al. 2015). The Eared Grebe has been assigned record #2005-008.

References

Meissner, W., C. Wójcik, P. Pinchuk, and N. Karlionova. 2013. Ageing and sexing series 9: ageing and sexing the Northern Lapwing Vanellus vanellus. Wader Study Group Bulletin 120 (1): 32–36.
Persons, T. B., L. R. Bevier, P. D. Vickery, W. J. Sheehan, and C. A. Bartlett. 2015. Fourth report of the Maine Bird Records Committee. Bird Observer 43 (1): 21–37.
Sheehan, W., and P. Vickery. 2007. First report of the Maine Bird Records Committee (2006). Bird Observer 35 (3): 155–158.
Sheehan, W., and P. Vickery. 2009a. Second report of the Maine Bird Records Committee (2007). Bird Observer 37 (5): 287–289.
Sheehan, W., and P. Vickery. 2009b. Third report of the Maine Bird Records Committee (2008). Bird Observer 37 (5): 290–294.

The authors can be reached at the following addresses: Trevor Persons, 206 Bigelow Hill Road, Norridgewock, Maine 04957, email: trevor.persons@nau.edu; Louis Bevier, 25 Great Meadow Lane, Fairfield, Maine 04937, email: lrbevier@colby.edu.

Edith F. Andrews: Venerable, Inspirational, and Beloved

Mon, 01 Feb 2016 00:00:00 GMT

With a newly minted degree from Penn State, Edith decided to take a course in museum work at the Buffalo Museum of Science, which was then under the direction of Chauncey Depew. Thanks to Depew’s connection with Margaret Davis, president of the Maria Mitchell Association at the time, Edith landed a summer job teaching nature classes to children there. When Nantucket High School’s science teacher was drafted on the heels of the United States’ entry into World War II, Edith was offered a job teaching high school biology, chemistry, and physics. Once she became a year- round resident of Nantucket, her interest in the island’s birdlife grew stronger. By 1942, Edith assumed a seminal role in organizing the island’s first bird club, an entity that quickly added three new species to the Nantucket bird list, including the first specimen record of Scarlet Tanager for the island.

Edith banding at Mothball Pines, Nantucket. Photograph from the Collection of Edith Folger Andrews.

Following World War II, Edith entered graduate school at Cornell University where she received a Master’s Degree in Biology, specializing in ornithology under the great Arthur A. Allen, founder of the world renowned Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology. Upon completion of her graduate degree, she resumed her involvement with the Maria Mitchell Association. Her careful bird recordkeeping soon resulted in an invitation from the prominent Harvard University ornithologist, Ludlow Griscom, to co-author The Birds of Nantucket in 1948.

While working with Griscom on The Birds of Nantucket, during the academic year she also taught biology and nature study at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. But in 1953, she returned to Nantucket for good in order to marry her long-time sweetheart, Clinton Andrews—a Nantucket native, commercial fisherman, and outstanding field naturalist. One of the young couple’s first joint projects was the initiation of the Nantucket Christmas Bird Count, an annual event Edith compiled for many years and which is still in existence today.

In 1963, Edith and her family relocated to the University of Massachusetts Nantucket Field Station. Here the Andrews were able to influence and share their combined expertise with legions of visiting UMass students through the years. They also hosted and rehabilitated a cadre of orphaned or injured birds including such well-known celebrities as Owlbert the Barn Owl, Mycroft the meadowlark, and a series of murres known as Ptolemy One, Two, and Three.

About the time that Edith moved to the UMass Field Station, she began banding birds in earnest. In 1973, she officially became the Maria Mitchell Association’s staff ornithologist, although she switched back and forth between staff ornithologist and curator of birds for about a decade. Eventually the Maria Mitchell Association’s bird collection, under Edith’s curatorship, was moved to Hinchman House; the collection now contains over 1500 specimens and is officially named the Edith F. Andrews Ornithology Collection.

She also served as Curator of the Mitchell House for several terms totaling approximately 20 years. No matter what position she held at the Maria Mitchell Association, she worked on birds the entire time she was involved with the organization, from the 1940s through the 2000s.

In the early 1980s, Edith rented a cottage in the Mothball Pines near Cisco Beach for the purpose of maintaining a bird banding station—something she did for many years thereafter. At the time of her passing, Edith had banded more than 55,000 birds, including individuals she banded at her Madaket home. The Nantucket banding station is also one of more than 400 banding stations all over the country that are part of a national Monitoring Avian Productivity and Survivorship (MAPS) network. Because many of the birds that Edith banded carried ticks, she routinely collected these for the Harvard School of Public Health’s Lyme disease research program. Not surprisingly, among the thousands of birds that passed through Edith’s hands were a number of local rarities. Few were more unusual than the first Allen’s Hummingbird ever to be recorded in eastern North America away from the Gulf of Mexico in 1988.

Through her many years of educating, mentoring, and inspiring beginning and expert birders alike, Edith’s insistence on precision in all things ornithological, her warm personality, her engaging laugh, and her gentle demeanor will never be forgotten by all who were privileged to know her. Her extraordinary accomplishments were professionally recognized when she received Mass Audubon’s most prestigious award—the Allen H. Morgan Award—in 1994, the Maria Mitchell Association’s Women in Science Award, and admission as an Honorary Member into the Nuttall Ornithological Club in 2000—the only woman to be so recognized.

Without a doubt, many outstanding Massachusetts birders have been indebted to Edith Andrews and her numerous contributions. Among these in no particular order are Simon Perkins, Dick Veit, Vern Laux, Edie Ray, Steve Arena, Craig Jackson, Marcia Litchfield, Chris Floyd, Ken Blackshaw, Johnnie Fisk, John Dennis, Ginger Bladen, Larry Jodrey, Jerry Soucy, and certainly a host of others.

Edith, may the wind always be beneath your wings!

Edith F. Andrews: October 29, 1915 - October 31, 2015

Mon, 01 Feb 2016 00:00:00 GMT

Edith was a smoker for more than 25 years; she quit when the truth came out about cigarettes, and she never smoked at the Field Station.

During World War II, Edith was a spotter, watching for enemy planes from the windmill. She and her friend Grace Brown Gardner once reported the sound of a distant engine; it turned out to be a gas-powered lawnmower, an unusual luxury at the time.

My mother enjoyed target shooting, and was better at it than my father, who hunted to feed the family during the Depression.

As the daughter of a member of the Masonic lodge she belonged to the Order of the Eastern Star, where she took the part of Esther.

She loved going to the theatre, particularly musicals.

She was a good artist, making field sketches and occasionally painting.

Edith loved Nantucket as she loved birds. Whether they were alive or dead, injured or in distant flight, her motto was, “I never refuse a bird.” So many birds passed though her hands, including the Red-throated Loon that was one of my father’s courting gifts while she was preparing study skins at Cornell. It is still in the collection at the Maria Mitchell Association. And some 55,000 birds fell into her nets and were tagged with a small aluminum bracelet from the Bird Banding Office of United States Department of the Interior, aka "U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service."

Edith was a woman of strong passions; we all remember her enthusiasm, her love of life, her sheer excitement at a good bird—alive OR dead—a blooming plant, a butterfly, and the number of inflections she could give the word: “Really?”

My mother had a temper, though it was well controlled in public. Still, she found unique ways of expressing her disapproval. I remember once some people had caught an Evening Grosbeak and were keeping it as a pet. They proudly displayed it to us in a glass box so small it couldn’t even open its wings—this was before animal cruelty laws were enforced—and she pursed her mouth in distaste and said, “Well, can I have it for a specimen when it dies?” My father tried to hustle us out of there in a hurry.

Edith was the first and perhaps the only person on Nantucket (those were the John Birch Society days) to have a “Ban DDT” bumper sticker—bright orange with a skull and crossbones—proudly displayed on her car.

Edith was a hard scientist; she was stickler for details. She cared as lovingly for Maria Mitchell’s antiques as she did for living birds.

Many of these lived in the house with us. Once a garden club lady was visiting when a tern that was spending the winter with us instead of in Tierra del Fuego let loose a good-sized dropping on the Oriental rug. “Doesn’t that, er, BOTHER you, Edith?” the woman wanted to know. “Oh, no, it comes right up with the vacuum cleaner when it dries,” was the surprised reply. “Just a little whitewash.”

In so long and full a life there are always sorrows as well as joys. Edith’s early life was unhappy in many ways, and Nantucket in the 1950s was a hard place to earn a living. It was a big adjustment, after being on the faculty of a university, to become a housewife. But no matter what was going on, she always found it uplifting to see a bird. She was always ready to go out and look; “If you don’t look,” she would always say, “you don’t see.” Edith saw a lot. And she inspired others to look as well. And she kept on looking, retaining her interest almost to the end; she saw her last life bird, a Calliope Hummingbird, at age 98.

With great age there are many adjustments. Physical abilities diminish. There’s the transition from cane, to walker, to chair. The loss of hearing, diminishing vision, conversation condensed to a single word. But as energy ebbs and the body closes down, love remains, to the last breath. And after the last breath has been taken, that love still exists, in memory, our inspiration.

Ginger Andrews is Edith Andrews’ daughter. Ginger has set up two memorial funds in Edith’s name: the Edith Andrews Ornithology Scholarship Fund and the Edith Andrews Fund for Natural History and Ecology to support several local charities in their efforts to preserve, protect, and study Nantucket’s natural world. Both are administered through the Community Foundation for Nantucket: <https:> To donate, click on the “give now” button, select “select a fund” and Edith’s funds will appear in the list.</https:>

Ronnie Donovan: The Birds Were Where He Found Them

Mon, 01 Feb 2016 00:00:00 GMT

Ronnie had a superhuman capacity for tolerating discomfort; he seemed oblivious to rain, extreme cold, and waist deep marsh water. Once, decades ago, I was birding with Ronnie and a few others one October day in the Cedar Grove Cemetery in Dorchester. In the failing afternoon light it began to rain, a cold, raw, miserable rain, and everybody headed for their cars—except for Ronnie. He encouraged me to stay a while longer, saying he often had good luck under such conditions. Five minutes later, he showed me my life Clay-colored Sparrow by the MBTA trolley tracks.

Ronnie infrequently chased birds reported by others, and rarely reported his own sightings to more than a select few. He had no ego and little need for validation when it came to birding. I think that was his secret; it’s as if the birds sensed it. His friend Frank Desisto recalls a time they were birding along the Neponset River: “Ronnie was the stillest birder ever, he looked like an old bent tree stump, and this Cooper’s Hawk just flew in and landed on his shoulder. Ronnie never even flinched and the bird perched there for a while before taking off again.”

For Ronnie, birding was its own reward. He loved birds and their constancy. “No matter what else is going on in my life,” he once told me, “the birds are always there, like old friends.” He was an old-school naturalist at heart, as knowledgeable about reptiles, marine biology, even Cambrian fossils, as he was about birds. Two of his heroes were paleontologist Charles Walcott and Charles Darwin. Ronnie once confessed that he didn’t really appreciate On the Origin of Species until the third time he read it. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d barely managed to slug my way through the first chapter. One of his mantras when birding was, “What you don’t see can be just as interesting as what you do see.” No twitcher would ever utter such a thing.

If there’s a takeaway from Ronnie’s example, from his life as a birder, it is simply this: put the birds first, enjoy and study them without an agenda or prejudice, stick to your patch, and the birds will be where you find them.

The Lists and the Lister of Wolf Trap Hill Farm

Mon, 01 Feb 2016 00:00:00 GMT

Wolf Trap Hill and the circa-1735 house photographed in 1881. Photograph courtesy of Kathleen Brissette.

My youngest brother, my sister, and I grew up on 17 acres of gardens, orchards, and cranberry bogs on a large freshwater lake in Massachusetts. My father and our eldest half-brother built us a fine clay tennis court, my father built a rowboat, and Brad—that beloved half-brother—found us a well-used but sturdy sailboat. What a childhood—swimming, sailing, and tennis in summer, and ice-skating and bonfires for hotdogs in winter. It was only many years later that we realized we had so much, for we were not wealthy. But build a better mousetrap and they will come. All of our school friends wanted to share our plenty. Only years later did we realize some people called our home “the country club of Carver.”

As often as our parents could manage it, we drove out west in summer, camping all the way—a matter of economies, I know now. The main destination was our grandparents’ ranch in Montana. Mother grew up there in a family of eight children. My grandparents had four children of their own and raised another four motherless children—showing no favoritism—providing my generation with many aunts and uncles and even more cousins. I have wonderful memories of horseback riding, cattle drives, picnics in Big Timber Canyon, fishing in the creek, butter churning, and dishwashing that seemed to go on for hours. The ranch was a busy place and in the summer all of the children our grandparents had raised came and went. I still marvel that our seemingly tireless grandparents welcomed us all.

My interest in birds kept growing with every year since before I can remember. I still can recall the first trip west when I saw my first adult Red-headed Woodpecker on a roadside fence post in Iowa. The sighting went into a little trip notebook that I was keeping, followed by those big black and white magpies and Western Meadowlarks with their beautiful song.

The circa-1735 house as it appeared on January 1, 2016. Photograph by Wayne R. Petersen.

The many new birds in that notebook was the spur I needed to hunt for every bird I could find on our home property, and soon I was adventuring into every bit of woodland within walking distance. The list kept growing. My father encouraged me and even as busy as he was, he took me to places such as Plymouth Beach, Manomet Point, and the Cape Cod Canal and the list grew longer. My father had an old pair of 4x field glasses that one of his uncles had carried during the Civil War. As I grew into my teens and became seriously interested in birds, I was permitted to use those glasses. We didn’t travel every summer, but in the years we didn’t head west, we often spent several days camping in the three northern New England states. The well-loved field glasses were always with me and my bird list was growing.

Years went by, I grew up, married my husband Paul, and lived in Worcester, Massachusetts; Poplar and Roundup, Montana; and moved back to Middleborough, Massachusetts. We had been living in Montana until Paul’s mother’s health problems convinced him we should return to Massachusetts, where a job was waiting for him. We settled into an apartment in Middleborough, his hometown. Apartment living in “downtown” Middleborough was too noisy and confining after the wide open spaces of Big Sky Country. We turned to Paul’s uncle, a realtor, who was soon showing us small houses on small lots uptown or small houses on larger lots along Route 28, ignoring my continuing complaint that we wanted a place in the country.

Eventually he gave in: “Okay, kids, I’ll show you a place in that country! I’ve had it listed for two years but no one will ever buy a place like that!”

We left town, crossed Route 44 and headed north on Thompson Street, turning right onto a long gravel road, right onto a shorter gravel road, then down a long unpaved driveway with overgrown pastures on either side. Finally, at the end of the lane was a little old Cape Cod house with weathered gray shingles. Even before we entered the house, we knew the location was just what we were looking for. The house had new wallpaper on the first floor, a relatively modern kitchen, a living room with a fireplace, a bathroom, and a large bedroom with a small room beside it, just right for two-year-old Tim. Two small bedrooms were tucked under the eaves at the top of a steep narrow staircase. Naïve as we were, the water pump and furnace in the cellar received only casual glances. Old houses always conceal surprises, but we knew we had found the right place for us.

Paul Anderson at Wolf Trap Hill Farm in the 1950s. Photograph courtesy of Kathleen Brissette.

According to the official history of Middleborough, Massachusetts, the hill just north of our house is called Wolf Trap Hill because early settlers, having problems with wolves that killed their sheep, dug a deep trench across the Indian trail that connected Patuxet (Plymouth) with Nemasket (Middleborough). The legend states that the morning after the trench was dug, they found an Indian at one end and a wolf at the other end—both alive, as implausible as that seems to me. What else could we call our new home but Wolf Trap Hill Farm?

When Paul and I and our two-year-old son moved into the circa-1735 farm house on November 30, 1950, I would not have believed that I would still be living here 65 years later in 2015. At the time, I still hoped I could convince Paul to return to my beloved Montana where I was born. Obviously I failed. I’ve lost Paul, and our two children are married and living in homes of their own. In 2015, Wolf Trap Hill Farm remains an important part of my life. I only occasionally think of living permanently in Montana.

As we were carrying in our few possessions with the help of my brother and brother-in-law that cold November day, I noticed a junco in the lilacs and decided to make a note of it and any other birds I saw while we were living here.

Biodiversity at Wolf Trap Hill

The days and years flew by. We purchased a large wood lot that abutted our 27 acres, then bought 10 additional acres of the adjoining Little Cedar Swamp, bringing our total to 104 acres. When the Wildlands Trust of southeastern Massachusetts began to acquire Little Cedar Swamp, I added my 10 acres to their acquisitions, leaving Wolf Trap Hill Farm with 94 acres of gardens, pastures, and a woodland of white pines, white oaks, red maples, and a variety of other trees and shrubs. The old stone walls that form squares back in the woods prove that the land had been cleared historically and was once a self-sufficient little farm.

Betty with visitors. Photograph by Kathleen Brissette.

Beginning with that junco, I kept track of every living critter I could identify on Wolf Trap Hill Farm, not just birds but also mammals, amphibians, reptiles, insects, plants—anything I was certain I was naming correctly. And the lists keep growing, categorized by date and place.

The most unusual mammal on the list so far is moose. I didn’t exactly see the moose, but my daughter Kathleen found some scat one day that neither of us recognized. I bagged it and brought it to the next meeting of the advisory board of the Massachusetts Natural Heritage and Endangered Species Program, where other members identified it for me as moose scat.

I’m predicting—hoping—that black bear will be the next mammal, because they are increasing all over Massachusetts and spreading into the southeastern part of the Commonwealth. I’m not sure I want to be alone far back in the woods when I see my first bear. Perhaps I’ll see one from the kitchen window some morning as I glance at the birdfeeders.

My most unusual amphibian is a four-toed salamander that I found under sphagnum moss in the Atlantic white cedar swamp. My most recent addition, seen on July 20, 2015, is a tiny butterfly with the imposing name of tawny emperor.

The fanciest, least-expected bird landed on my list on July 8, 2014, as I was sitting out on the lawn with binoculars on my lap—luckily for me—when a shadow passed over. I glanced up to see an all black raptor gliding down across the lawn near me to perch in a white pine along the driveway. We don’t have any all black buteos in Massachusetts. My first thought was, “What in hell is that?” I kept my binoculars on it until it lifted off to fly west across the pastures and out of sight. Then I dashed for the field guide on the kitchen table. There was nothing it could be but a Zone-tailed Hawk, “rare in southern California and southern Texas” according to the National Geographic Field Guide to the Birds of North America! I could hardly believe what I had seen. And I still wonder if even my good friend Wayne Petersen would have believed me if anyone but David Ludlow had not been driving through North Carver near the intersection of Route 58 and Route 44 when he saw a large black buteo over the highway. He had already decided that it had to be a Zonetail before he heard about my sighting. We later figured he had probably seen it about 15 minutes earlier, flying northwest toward East Middleborough, which brought it over Wolf Trap Hill.

My Wolf Trap Hill List

The list that began with one junco now stands at:

35 mammals out of circa 50 land mammals known for Massachusetts, approximately three-quarters

193 birds out of approximately 500 known birds of Massachusetts, about two-fifths

25 herps (reptiles and amphibians) out of 46 known for Massachusetts, more than half

47 butterflies of 103 known for Massachusetts, almost half 30 dragonflies of 106 of Massachusetts, over one-fifth

I am all too aware that this is bragging on my part, but my hope is that it may encourage some of the rest of you to look more closely at your “patch,” however large or small it may be. You might not find a moose or a Zone-tailed Hawk—my “biggies” so far—but you will find your own special birds and other creatures.

Every day is a gift, and some of the dearest are the nearest.

Kathleen “Betty” S. Anderson was the ornithologist at the Massachusetts Department of Public Health’s Encephalitis Field Station for 11 years. She left to join the Manomet Bird Observatory (now Manomet, Inc.) as the Founding Director, a position she held for fifteen years. She currently chairs the Massachusetts Natural Heritage & Endangered Species Advisory Committee. Betty continues to research the biodiversity at Wolf Trap Hill Farm.

Ronnie's Back Yard

Mon, 01 Feb 2016 00:00:00 GMT

What made the boreal owl transcendent was the fact that it was the second one Ronnie had found in less than a week. He found the first one while birding on Long Island in Boston Harbor during the No-name Storm (the “Perfect Storm”) in late October 1991. He first saw it on October 28, and he relocated it at the same daytime roost on each of the next two days. But, as though that weren’t enough, the following week he found another or the same individual in the only tree over his driveway!

Ronnie’s yard list is even more astonishing considering that virtually all these species have been seen from his kitchen window in an inner-city yard in South Boston and that the “habitat” in the yard itself contains more concrete than plants. So, what is it about Ronnie’s yard? First of all, Ronnie lives there. I’ve spent many hours trying to figure out what it is that makes a top-flight birder; and, as far as I can tell, like any vocation or avocation, it has more to do with concentration, intensity, passion, a sense of awareness, and a deep desire to learn than with physical attributes such as keen visual acuity. Ronnie probably has all of these because, wherever he is, he always finds birds, not only in his yard but also around his neighborhood. Some of Ronnie’s home turf includes Carson Beach in Southie, the harbor islands (especially Long Island), and the marshes along the Neponset River in Dorchester. His list of avian discoveries from these localities is nearly as impressive as his yard list: Bar-tailed Godwit, Yellow Rail, Mew Gull, and a pair of Manx Shearwaters apparently prospecting for nest sites within a hundred yards of Carson Beach.

But, as good as Ronnie is, as the saying goes, no one can squeeze blood out of a rock. Ronnie’s yard may be mostly concrete, but it’s much more than the proverbial rock. Clearly, something or some combination of things sets his yard apart. First of all, it’s coastally located: just up the hill from Carson Beach on Boston Harbor.

The ocean acts as a barrier to most land birds because, if they can, they do whatever it takes to avoid flying over open sea. Because the prevailing winds in most of the United States blow from the west, many species, especially those that migrate long distances, tend to be deflected eastward during the course of their flights, and many of those that pass through New England eventually bump up against the coast. This results in migrants becoming more concentrated along the shore than they would be farther inland.

Secondly, Ronnie’s yard backs up on a small but well-vegetated vacant lot, an exception in this highly residential neighborhood. From a bird’s perspective, a patch of green within a large expanse of buildings and pavement represents an island—an oasis in an otherwise inhospitable desert.

Thirdly, the lot is on a south-facing slope. This means that this tiny patch of green is not only protected from any cold winds that blow from the north but also angled toward the sun to receive more solar radiation. This exposure creates a relatively warm and attractive microclimate. Of course, the many pounds of birdseed that Ronnie casts into his yard play a part too, but that’s just the table setting.

There are other productive patches of habitat along the coast of Massachusetts that attract birds—for example, Plum Island in Newburyport, Eastern Point in Gloucester, Marblehead Neck in Marblehead, the Thicket in Nahant—but, per square foot, Ronnie’s yard beats them all.

Simon Perkins