Something Memorable and Sad and Something Funny

Helen Hays and her ubiquitous smile in the doorway of the Banding Room on GGI wearing a flowered hat designed to keep the sharp beaks of the protective Common Terns from opening up her scalp. August 3, 2014.

Helen Hays

I was saddened to learn yesterday of the recent death of legendary ornithologist Helen Hays, in a nursing home in Scarsdale, NY, of dementia, at age 94. Helen was the founder and director of the Great Gull Island (GGI) Project for 50 years. The Great Gull Island Project is a monitoring study of Common and Roseate Terns nesting on Great Gull Island, a tiny islet in Long Island Sound off Orient Point on the North Fork of Long Island. Additionally, GGI connects with scientists in Brazil, Argentina, and the Azores, where many of the banded birds from Great Gull Island spend their winters. Over the years, Helen and her team relied on hundreds of volunteers who visited the island each summer to help gather data on the birds and to improve and maintain the site. Those volunteers including my older daughter Jennifer and my son-in-law Erik Egensteiner, who met on GGI in May 1990. As you might suspect, Jen and Erik’s marriage was not the only one born on GGI. Many GGI volunteers went onto to become noted ornithologists.

Wanting to do something more substantial than the above, I spent an hour this morning doing an online search to find some of the stuff I had written about this amazing woman and GGI but came up empty. In addition, I did an article for Birder’s World several decades ago about Helen entitled “One Good Tern Lady.” It is in my office somewhere on a floppy disc. If I find what I am looking for in the next month, I will do a follow-up. The word I used most while describing Helen is badger (as a noun). That’s how tough she was. I visited GGI about eight times over the years. I once asked Helen how many times she had stooped over to grab an eggs or a chick from a ground nest. With her ever-present smile, she said, Millions, I guess.” I’ll close here by saying that Helen was always very nice to me. And everyone else as well.

Learn more in the NY Times obituary here. Though there are some factual errors, it will give you a glimpse into her amazing life and accomplishments.

I was thrilled to find this at the last moment; you can see and hear Helen talking about the project in a program she did at a Long Island Natural History Conference in 2016 here (on YouTube).

What’s Up?

Our two songbirds session went well despite slow starts each morning. The Pine Grosbeaks and Boreal Chickadees were the stars of the show. On Wednesday, I did something that I thought might never do, fill a Delkin 480GB card! I made more than 15,000 images including a very few good ones. And I enjoy learning more about Pre-Capture with the Sony a-1 ii. I will be sharing the best images with you here soon.

Today is Friday 14 February. At 10:00 Alaska time, we will set sail on our first eagle boat ride. We are praying that the light snow in the 10-day forecast turns into a blizzard. Whatever the heck you are doing, I hope that you too have a great day.

If an item — a Delkin flash card, or a tripod head — for example, that is available from B&H and/or Bedfords, is also available in the BAA Online Store, it would be great, and greatly appreciated, if you would opt to purchase from us. We will match any price. Please remember also to use my B&H affiliate links or to earn 3% cash back at Bedfords by using the BIRDSASART discount code at checkout for your major gear purchases. Doing either often earns you free guides and/or discounts. And always earns my great appreciation.

The Bomb, the Delkin Devices 960GB BLACK CFexpress Type A 4.0 Memory Card

High Capacity Delkin CF Express Type A 4.0 Memory Cards

At present, there is no longer a need to change a memory card in the field. Both the new Delkin 480GB and 960GB cards have more than enough storage for 99.9% of field applications. Using these new cards, I have never hit the buffer with my a-1 ii despite hammering the shutter button on occasion. Regular readers know that I have been depending on Delkin cards for just about a quarter century. In that time I have never lost a single image due to card failure. I’ve put my Delkin cards in the washing machine and dryer and — after two days, retrieved one from a bag of barbecued spare-rib fat and bones. I got the images off those cards without a problem. Most amazingly, after dropping a card in the parking lot at Nickerson Beach IPT, participant Carlotta Grenier found the card near the ladies’ room four days later after it had been run over by numerous vehicles. After consulting with Delkin, I ripped the mangled cover off the card, put it into the Delkin card reader, and got to enjoy each and every image. I sent the card back to Delkin and they kindly sent me a brand new one. Please do not try that with Sony or San Disk or any of the many cheaper off brand cards.

At a recent dinner in San Diego, Delkin founder, president, and CEO Martin Wood told how his folks were able to recover the data from an industrial card that survived a military jet fighter crash that burned for more than two hours at 2000° F.

The specs for both the Delkin 480GB and 960GB cards are identical:

Max Read Speed: 1830 MB/s
Max Write Speed: 1710 MB/s
Min Sustained Write Speed: 500 MB/s
Records Raw 8K, 6K, and 4K Video
Records High Bitrates and Frame Rates
Records Raw Photos and Rapid Bursts

To help facilitate card usage in almost any environment and keeping your content safe, Delkin has built its BLACK Series with a rugged design that is water and shock proof and is resistant to temperature extremes. In order to further enhance reliability and functionality, the BLACK Series is serialized and protected by a limited lifetime warranty and a 48-hour replacement guarantee upon registration with Delkin.

I have never bought the story that putting all your eggs in one basket is a big mistake. Having to use multiple cards during a single shooting session greatly increases the chances of losing one or more.

You can order your Delkin cards and their great card readers from BIRDS AS ART by clicking here. I recommend minimizing your per GB costs by going with the Delkin Devices 960GB BLACK CFexpress Type A 4.0 Memory Card.

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In many cases, I can help you save some serious dollars. And/or prevent you from purchasing the wrong gear from the wrong shop.

If You Are Really a Birder, or Know One a Real One, You Will Laugh Your Ass Off

In the last blog post I mentioned how much I enjoyed the writing of my friend Julian Hough. Every time we chat, I begin by spelling his first name one letter at a time with a British accent: Haych, Oh, You, Gee, Haych. Below, with permission, is the tongue-in-cheek article he posted on his blog (Naturescape Images/The Anglo-American Birding of Julian Hough)here in 2021. He did the writing posing as his son Alex.

Observations of Life by Alex Hough (allegedly). May 31, 2021

While my Dad was away, I thought I’d hijack his blog this month to offer some of my thoughts.

2020 was a year that COVID-19 wreaked havoc on all our freedoms.

Everyone has been confronted with difficult times, but as a teenager the stress of lock-downs came at a time when I was already trying to cope with something that’s affected me all my life. As an adolescent, I thought my DAd’s mood swings and irrational behavior resulted from a neurological mis-wiring of sorts, or maybe “being on the spectrum”, or perhaps even a kind of generalized seasonal disorder. Dealing with it left me overwhelmed with anxiety, frustration and despair. Over the years it became clear that my issues were the result of something worse. Much worse.

You see, my dad is a birder. He watches birds. Who knew that was a thing? It’s an obsession but it looks like an addiction. Over the years, I’ve seen firsthand the toll it takes on those closest to him. He’s had this horrible affliction for as long as I can remember and apparently there is no cure. From the outside, you’d never know he has a terrible disease based on his physical appearance. Aside from making soft grunts every time he moves a little too quickly, he has a full head of hair; exercises regularly; and looks generally healthy (well, as much as a 50-something desperately trying to pass for 40 again can look healthy). People who know my Dad ask me what it’s like to have such a “charming and fun father”. If people only knew the degree of mental suffering that lay beneath that self-appointed façade. He tells me that many of his close friends have the disease too. Many of them occasionally visit our house and knowing that now helps explain a lot about his friends. I think that knowing there are other people suffering the same malaise makes him feel less alone.

There are times when my Dad is a functioning member of society, but seasonal fluctuations in behavior, particularly in the first two weeks of May, or from mid-August to early November, make living with him particularly intolerable. Siblings, parents, partners and friends of birders all know what it’s like to live with them during these tough times. I try to be understanding and patient. I really do. My Dad is wonderful and caring, but he just gets so self-absorbed. It’s hard to connect with him sometimes. When he’s going through seasonal withdrawal symptoms, he paces around the room and just stares out the window, mumbling despondently to himself about, “Where are all the cold-fronts?” or “Will it ever go Northwest?”

After all these years I can often predict when he is about to have a full-blown meltdown. The trigger is multiple phone messages usually in short succession. He disassociates from reality and his eyes glaze over while he reads the incoming texts. I don’t know where he goes in that moment. It then abruptly shifts into frenetic running around the house, interspersed with a lot of Tourette’s-like outbursts. He doesn’t usually swear in front of me, but when he does I know it’s a big deal.

“Where the @!!*##$$! are my @!!*##$$! keys?”, is quickly followed by the always predictable yelling of, “Alex, get your shoes on! Turn that computer off! Get in the car. Now! What are you doing? I asked you to do ONE thing! For the love of God, why are your shoes still not on? COME ONNN! We have to go. NOW!”

In those moments, he turns from being the most attentive and loving father to an impatient, maniacal asshole. I start to get anxious. I try to escape to my room to play Minecraft before he can force me into the car to drive hours to some shithole sewage pond to look for a “Mega” or a “Crippler”. I have no clue what those are, or what it all means. It’s like he’s suddenly talking in tongues.

Kidnapped for a twitch to see a Gyrfalcon (for the third time!) and made to hold up the book to feign interest.

I just want a normal Dad like my friends have: a Dad that wants to push me on the swings; a Dad that will chase me around at Tag; a Dad that wants to take me to the park to bond with me (and not just because the park is next to a good gull spot). I remember walks where I would run around, playfully kicking up fall leaves into the air while he often seemed uninterested and distracted. With his head tilted skyward, he would ask in a quizzical manner, “Alex, Do You hear that?“

Sometimes I want to scream, “No! No, Dad, I don’t hear that {F@!!*##$$! } Blackpoll Warbler”. I say the word “F@!!*#$$!” in my head, because he doesn’t like me swearing. I know F@!!#$$! is a bad word, but he is F!!*##$$! making me say it. I don’t like to go outside. I don’t want to look at gulls. I don’t want to walk down the beach for owls. I don’t care about the best way to tell “long-billed” juvenile Semipalmated from a Western Sandpiper. I just don’t. I love you Dad. I just don’t understand you.

Seagulls suck! A trip to a local park magically coincided with the presence of a Ketchup Gull, or whatever it was called, some seagull from Asia that looked like all the rest. While there is presently no cure for what my dad has, and I know he can’t control himself, it makes me angry when he loses sight of what’s important in the world. I wish he would love me as much as he loves birds. But I know that will never happen.

I know there are other kids out there suffering with parents like mine. My heart goes out to them and those selfless people that choose to live with these tortured souls that suffer with this lifelong addiction.

As a young child, I had no choice. No way out. But now, as a teenager, it’s time to stand up for myself. It’s time to set some boundaries. I will no longer be tricked into going out with him for “just a little while”. I can stay home alone now. I offer this letter as hope to others. Just know you are not alone and there is light at the end of the tunnel. It’s time to stand strong and take your life back.

Typos

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