Review: A Message from Martha

This is indeed the Year of the Passenger Pigeon. To mark the 100th anniversary of the species’ extinction, Bloomsbury Publishing has released two books, each telling the story of how the world’s most numerous bird species vanished from the American landscape. I reviewed the first of these, A Feathered River Across the Sky, by Joel Greenberg, when it came out in January. Although you’ll find many of the same basic facts about Passenger Pigeon biology and ecology in Mark Avery’s, A Message from Martha, this is a very different book, telling a much more personal story, for a (mostly) British audience.

Rather than attempt another near exhaustive collection of first-hand accounts, such as the one Greenberg has already expertly accomplished, Avery very clearly and concisely summarizes both the knowns and unknowns of the Passenger Pigeon’s life history. There are quite a number of puzzles remaining about how the Passenger Pigeon was able to survive in such tremendous numbers, and how its population crashed so dramatically over so short a timespan. Avery, a former conservation director at the RSPB, applies deductive reasoning to arrive at the most likely solutions to each of these problems, in what are some of my favorite sections of this book.

Both Avery and Greenberg provide information about how habitat loss and overexploitation each contributed to the pigeon’s extinction. However, Greenberg tends to draw more attention to hunting and trapping, perhaps because of his strong reliance on first-hand accounts throughout his book. Avery, on the other hand, makes a strong case for why habitat loss may be the larger factor (deserving 85% of the blame, he says). His reasoning is laid out in detail, and leaves little doubt that he’s hit on some powerful arguments.

This example, I think, helps illustrate a key difference in emphasis between the two books. Greenberg wants to transport us back in time, and give us a sense (as much as possible) for what it was like to live among the pigeons. Avery does more to synthesize our knowledge of Passenger Pigeon biology and ecology with that of other species, and places Passenger Pigeons declines within the larger historical context of America’s westward expansion. Each of these emphases can be compelling, which is why the two books complement each other, rather than make the other redundant.

As I mentioned above, A Message from Martha is also largely a personal story. In 2013, Avery travelled from his native England to the U.S. in order to visit many of the sites that represent important milestones for Passenger Pigeons throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries (e.g., places where massive flocks were once seen; where the last big nestings took place; and where Martha, last of the Passenger Pigeons, spent her final years). As he travels from state to state, we read his journal entries as he struggles to feel any connection to the pigeons: “The area where Wilson saw his flock of Passenger Pigeons is a bit uninspiring — or at least it didn’t inspire me” (p. 91). I’m sure the area was mostly uninspiring even in Wilson’s own time, whenever Passenger Pigeons didn’t happen to be flying overhead. Unfortunately, there’s also much too much detail about the hotels where he stayed, the food he ate, and the conversations he overheard; details that add very little to the overall story.

Avery also makes the deliberate decision to refer to Europeans arriving in America as “European invaders.” This doesn’t apply only to the original colonists, but to Europeans arriving as late as the 19th century (and even to native-born U.S. citizens, it seems). The term was used many times throughout the book, and makes for a strange, unnecessary provocation, that I found somewhat alienating. Likewise, the lessons that he draws at the conclusion might have been applied more broadly, as they deal largely with the problem of declining farmland birds in England, and most specifically the Turtle Dove. Avery also heaps a good deal of scorn on the National Farmer’s Union, which represents farmers in England and Wales. Like I said, this is intended for a (mostly) British audience.

However, there is a lot about this book that all readers can appreciate. Mark Avery is an important voice for conservation, and his wonderfully timely celebration of the Passenger Pigeon adds significantly to our understanding of their life history, and ultimately, their extinction. Furthermore, A Message from Martha demonstrates how interconnected all of life is, and helps us appreciate how much we lose every time we let a species disappear. Martha would be proud.

Review: A Feathered River Across the Sky

This year represents a dark anniversary in annals of natural history as it marks the centenary of the Passenger Pigeon’s extinction. Once darkening the skies for long hours at a time, flocks in the billions dominated the American landscape for hundreds of years. For many hunters and naturalists, the disappearance of the continent’s most numerous bird was simply unimaginable, and even after pigeon numbers dropped precipitously their extinction remained a remote-seeming, even ludicrous proposition to some.

The story of how this flagrant national tragedy unfolded is described in great detail in Joel Greenberg’s terrific new book, A Feathered River Across the Sky: The Passenger Pigeon’s Flight to Extinction. Based on years of intensive scholarship, Greenberg traces how humans’ relationship with the species evolved over time, from early Native American customs, to European settlement, and how the advance of industrialization served to ever increase the efficiency with which pigeons were killed.

Many of the events described in the book are stomach-turning, and not necessarily because the details are particularly gory. Instead, it’s the mere fact of unrelenting slaughter of tens of millions of birds at a time; the profligacy and senselessness of killing so many more pigeons than could possibly be of any use to anyone. There are lessons in all of this for our continued stewardship of our natural resources, and Greenberg does a fine job of extending the story beyond 1914 to demonstrate how the Passenger Pigeon’s extinction led to the birth of a conservation ethic, and scores of laws designed to protect our remaining species.

There are few heroes in the story of the Passenger Pigeon, unfortunately, which makes people like Henry Bergh all the more compelling to learn about. Bergh founded the ASPCA in 1866 and fought tirelessly against all varieties of human cruelty to animals. His efforts of 20 years eventually led New York state to ban pigeon-shooting matches, passing legislation that became a model for other states to follow. He and several other figures stand in stark contrast to the prevailing sentiment toward Passenger Pigeons right up until the end, which was to shoot (or trap) without compunction, and seemingly reflexively.

The Passenger Pigeon is a marvel to consider. Migrating flocks that would take days pass overhead, and roosting groups so large and so concentrated that they would uproot trees, and devastate forests… these things are things that the imagination struggles to comprehend, and the likes of which we will never see again. Joel Greenberg’s book is a bit too detailed at times, but he succeeds wonderfully in conveying what it was like to have lived during this period, both in the sense of awe that they inspired, and in the destruction that humans wrought in the path to the pigeon’s ultimate extinction.

A Feathered River Across the Sky is an important book that brings all of the best and up-to-date scholarship on Passenger Pigeons together in one place. It’s a worthy tribute to mark the 100th anniversary of their extinction, and a poignant reminder of what we’ve lost.

Review: The First 70

I'd like to draw your attention to a short documentary that deserves the support of everybody who recognizes the importance of shared public space, and of preserving access to every kind of natural and historical treasure. The film, called The First 70, follows the immediate aftermath of California's appalling decision last year to close a quarter of their 278 state parks.

The film follows three young adults who traveled up and down California documenting the impact that these closures would have on individuals and their communities, as well as the likely fate of these parks once there's no longer anybody taking care of them. They also convey effectively why the decision was shamefully short-sighted, and unlikely to save the state any money whatsoever.

Maureen and I recently had the good fortune to watch the film in its entirety, but most screenings are taking place in California. Nevertheless, I recommend tracking it down, if you can. It's an important and beautifully shot film, which leaves plenty to be hopeful for. You can watch the trailer HERE.

Even if you're not in California, an important lesson of the film is the need to stay vigilant about the situation of our public spaces everywhere. Don't wait to act until it's too late. Let your state and local politicians know that it's in everybody's interest to keep these resources available and maintained at all times, no matter the political or economic climate we happen to find ourselves in.

Watch the trailer here

Visit the website here

Reassurance of Humanity

Birding is a great hobby – it gets you outdoors, it’s relatively cheap, and it allows you to appreciate nature in such a great way. We birders love to watch and observe birds, and sometimes sightings can bring us the utmost joy. And then there are times when we can feel a little ache in our heart when we learn about species that are in trouble or on the decline, which oftentimes is due to habitat loss mostly caused by humans. We do our best to donate to conservation groups when we can or write letters to government officials pleading for reconsideration of some project that is sure to cause destruction of wildlife habitat. But sometimes we can still feel disconnected from the effort. That’s why it’s so great when one gets an opportunity to really get out there and physically do something that matters and be reassured by the conservation efforts of devoted individuals.

Royal Terns flying by stirring up an American Oystercatcher - Tomkins Island

View of a sandbar from Tomkins Island. I'm guessing mostly Royal Terns and Laughing Gulls made up those little white dots. 

I had such an opportunity just yesterday when a group from the local Fish and Wildlife Service and a handful of volunteers set out to help maintain a suitable habitat for nesting shorebirds. Back in 2005, a group from the Savannah District Corps of Engineers constructed Tomkins Island, a 5-acre island built in the Atlantic Ocean between Georgia and South Carolina specifically as a habitat for bird nesting. Every year it needs a little maintenance to make it attractive to birds such as Royal Terns, Sandwich Terns, Least Terns, and American Oystercatchers. Well, I learned that terns, especially Least Terns, can be quite particular about their nesting grounds as they prefer very clear sandy/ rocky flat areas with little to no vegetation. Problems arise when beachgoers and off-road vehicles also like these areas, and they can often disturb and damage nesting sites. Least terns have also been known to go to flat rooftops covered in pebbles for nesting.

American Oystercatcher keeping a close eye on us

American Oystercatcher taking post on a rock

The local expert advised that the area hasn’t quite attracted the Least Terns, which are especially in need of nesting grounds. He advised that the larger Sandwich and Royal Terns can sometimes bully them out of breeding territory. However, good people are doing good work and trying their best to make a nice area for them all. A crew had already started the maintenance work, but there was still much to be done. A group of about a dozen of us were the second round of folks to do some landscaping work – pulling and raking any vegetation in sight, spraying herbicide on plants we couldn’t pull, and treating for fire ants (a danger to chicks).

A group of Brown Pelicans taking off

Brown Pelican Soaring

It was definitely hard work as the island had no shade and no bathrooms, not to mention temps in the high 70s/low 80s with almost no clouds. Luckily, there was a nice ocean breeze and no biting bugs in action. It was tough and my body could feel it later that day, and even today as all my muscles ache. But what gratifying work it was! I got my hands dirty and actually physically did something that will directly benefit birds. 

A pair of American Oystercatchers with Brown Pelicans flying over

American White Pelicans amongst Brown Pelicans

It was such a rewarding experience, and I only wish Nick didn’t have that thing called "work" that kept him away. There were plenty of birds to draw my attention, but mostly I had to keep my head down and pull weeds. But I did stop every once in while to enjoy the sights and sounds of Brown Pelicans in breeding plumage, a nice little group of American White Pelicans (a first for the area for me), American Oystercatchers calling and flitting about, masses of Royal Terns squawking above us, and a number of smaller shorebirds such as Dunlin, Sanderlings, Ruddy Turnstones, Black-bellied Plovers and other small peeps feeding in the mud. I didn’t have my SLR camera with me, but luckily I was able to use my point-and-shoot to take pics. 

Brown Pelican in breeding plumage

Brown Pelicans

The highlight of the day was definitely seeing a nest of what I believe to be American Oystercatchers. There laid 3 perfect little speckled eggs in a lovely little indention in the sand amongst larger rocks and lined with little pieces of white shells and rocks. What a sight to see, and so closely! It was definitely a great way to end a great day of satisfying, hard work.

Hard work pays off! The top surface is mostly cleared of vegetation, which we then threw below to be washed away by the surf. 

American Oystercatcher Eggs in a shell-groomed nest amongst the rocks!