| ESSAYS | ||
Birds |
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| Birds. Aquamarine lazuli buntings
and inquisitive canyon wrens welcoming springtime in the Utah canyonlands.
Crimson cardinals and whistling eastern meadowlarks magnifying the humid
Kansas summer. Elusive hermit thrushes and garrulous golden-crowned kinglets
echoing in the dark Montana forest. Animated yellow warblers and elusive
song sparrows enliven the willows and cottonwood galleries of the Colorado
river. Camouflaged Carolina wrens and multihued painted buntings flitting
and rustling in the mossy oak woodlands of the Carolina barrier islands.
None of these birds is especially rare, but to me each is significant in
it’s own right. A piece of the place. Every landscape that I encounter
is enhanced by the avian life forms that inhabit it. An errant birdsong
can be a catalyst to a memory, like a smell, or music. I never really paid much attention to birds until I spent the spring semester of my junior year as a field research assistant with Round River Conservation Studies in Arizona. Our instructors turned out to be ornithologists. I could have become particularly engrossed with the socioeconomic impacts of government mandated predator reintroduction in rural places, prehistoric Mogollon archaeology, plant field identification and vegetation sampling methods, or natural resource law or conservation biology. I was immersed in all these subjects and activities, served up with a main course of backcountry travel and a side of personality management. Many of the skills that I learned with Round River – in Arizona, and later as an assistant instructor in Montana and Colorado - have served me well as I have advanced, building my career. My field biology skills have proved marketable for stints with The Nature Conservancy and for independent consulting. The interpersonal skills developed through three months of close quarters with a handful of people (twice) have served repeatedly in both my personal and business life. My interest in cooking developed from a fellow student in Arizona who could whip up a tremendous dish using less than five ingredients. But it was sitting on the cobble banks of the Blue River one day, fulfilling an assignment, that I took the time to notice and watch nearly a dozen pairs of pairs of summer tanagers courting in the mature cottonwoods. Brilliant reds and yellows flitted overhead contrasting with the deep blue sky, flying fast then abruptly coming to rest on limbs, squabbling, taking off again quickly. These birds caught my imagination and sparked my curiosity. I’m not a hard-core birder, my life list is disorganized and unkempt. Though I spend plenty of time in the field, I am usually busy meeting with people. Quite honestly my birding skills have gotten a little rusty as I increasingly find myself spread thin between work and the happy obligations of being a husband and father. I’m even “between binoculars” until the next major gift-giving holiday. But I work in the land trust industry because I feel that the work that I’m doing really benefits wintering, migrating, and breeding birds. I work for a group called Colorado Open Lands as a land protection specialist. I work throughout Colorado, but most of the time I concentrate on preserving private land in a single intermountain basin. South Park is the largest grassland intermountain basin in the Rockies. Most others are dominated by sagebrush. It is a high, arid grassland, poked with wetlands and interrupted by the occasion green line of the tributaries that form the headwaters of the South Platte River. The area attracts a variety of grassland, wetland and mountain birds, ranging from white-faced ibis to mountain plover, and burrowing owls to white pelicans. Threats to South Park include exurban residential development and urban water development projects. I work to preserve agricultural and wild lands, grassland, wetlands, and riparian habitat. Perpetual conservation easements are complemented by habitat management and riparian and rangeland restoration on protected properties. It is a community-based effort, made possible only by the participation of dozens of large landowners. It is exciting work, and I am fortunate to be able to take pride in what I do. It’s hard to believe that eleven years have passed since I joined the ranks of Round River Conservation Studies on the Mexican Wolf Project in Southeastern Arizona. At that time the federal reintroduction effort was so precarious and embattled that it seemed that the lobo might fade away in captivity before it could again hunt the cool forests and hot rocky plains of the desert southwest. Today, while still embattled, a heavily managed population of more than 50 individuals inhabits a small slice of Arizona and New Mexico. Another piece of the place has been returned to the Southwest. As the Mexican Wolf reintroduction program has matured, so has Round River Conservation Studies. Round River has increased the scientific rigor with which it pursues conservation projects, and has successfully initiated strategic partnerships to leverage resources and increase it’s sphere of influence. Most importantly, Round River continues to expand its programs to expose students to some of the wildest, most inspiring landscapes and ecosystems on earth. I hope that like me, these students will be deeply influenced by their experience, and continue to advocate for the inhabitants of the places they come to love. —Dieter Erdmann, Colorado Open Lands (a former Round River Student) |