Mass Audubon Ocean State Weekend - March 1-2, 2025

I was fortunate to spend the weekend of March 1st and 2nd with a great group of Mass Audubon birders visiting sites throughout Rhode Island. Day one included locations on Aquidneck Island, including Portsmouth, Middletown, and Newport. The Ebird hotspots were Town Pond, Lawton Valley Reservoir, Sisson Pond, and Sandy Point Beach. These sites featured dabbling and diving ducks of all shapes and sizes, fresh and saltwater.

Red-tailed Hawk, Town Pond, Portsmouth, RI

Red-throated Loon, Town Pond, Portsmouth

American Wigeons, Town Pond, Portsmouth

While Aquidneck Island was never attacked during King Philip’s War, our birding adventure brought us near many locations associated with the war.

Birding the Randall Davey National Audubon Center and Sanctuary: A Haiku Adventure

One of the treats of our Mass Audubon excursion to New Mexico was the opportunity to bird the Randall Davey National Audubon Sanctuary in Santa Fe. It was a chilly day with light snow, but we spotted 14 species, including the Juniper Titmouse, which was new to me. (While I only got a quick look and no picture, the Juniper Titmouse is a drab, plain gray bird whose reputation is its attitude, not its flashy looks.)

Better still, I knew nothing about Randall Davey (1887–1964), an American artist and educator known for his contributions to early 20th-century American art, particularly in painting. Davey is celebrated for his work in portraiture, landscapes, and equestrian scenes. He is also celebrated for fostering a vibrant artistic community, which was key in establishing Santa Fe as an essential hub for artists and creatives in the early 20th century. His works are featured in major collections, including those of the Smithsonian American Art Museum and the Whitney Museum of American Art.

Randall Davey's "Great Big Canvas"

Davey was part of the American Modernist movement and studied under influential artists like Robert Henri, a leader of the Ashcan School. He exhibited widely across the United States. In 1919, Davey settled in Santa Fe, New Mexico, at the historic site of a former mill, which became both his home and studio. This location is the one we birded, the Randall Davey Audubon Center and Sanctuary.

One of the amusing features of this beautiful sanctuary is the so-called Haiku Trail, a series of short poems (not all 5-7-5, however) written by (what appear to be somewhat frustrated) birders like me--trying hard to keep pace with the real birders in our group. 

Some images of our day follow.

A Townsend's Solitaire, a member of the thrush family (think American Robin), braving the snow and cold. John Kirk Townsend (1809-1851) was an American naturalist, ornithologist, and collector. He was a member of the famous Wyeth Expedition to the Pacific Northwest in 1834. 

One of the poems that resonated with me

Tweets for Tweets (7): My Favorite Bird Photos July 2022- Early October 2023

It's been a busy 12 months as we head into the 2023 holiday season, and this blog suffered the consequences. Not that I've been lazy, mind you. Just a little distracted.

I've worked on several white paper topics for Carrier, including a celebration of the 100th anniversary of the centrifugal chiller. Carrier is 120 years old and reinventing itself, which is a fascinating process to watch (and cheer on).

I've also been writing for the Old Colony Historical Society blog. Articles include: 

• "The Horses Behaved Better Than the People: Taunton's Fourth of July" 
• "We Talk With an AI Historian About the Old Colony" (in which I experimented with ChatGPT)
• Three posts here, here, and here about calamities (hurricanes, fires, blizzards) that have visited the Old Colony in the last three centuries
• A post about my great-uncle, "Charles Monroe Baker: Taunton's Architect of Big Buildings" 
• An article featuring Dighton, Anawan, and Plymouth Rocks called "Loves Me Like a Rock: 8 Old Colony Hunks You Should Know" 

  

  One of Uncle Charlie Baker's most impressive buildings,
  the First Parish Church in Framingham, MA

• A summer 2022 reading list, "The Authors of the Old Colony: A Summer Reading List (If You Dare)"
• And, a bit on "The Golden Age of Radio in the Old Colony," where I got to mention another uncle, Eddie Litchfield. 

I also got to be an early reader of Bill Hanna and Katie MacDonald's nearly-published book, a fascinating history of the Taunton River. It's a work of art, and I have yet to see all the archival pictures in the completed book.

Both King Philip's War and Innovation on Tap book talks and speaking engagements have picked up, and that's been fun. 

I've also been writing bunches of essays for our Family Tree Maker database, and one in particular to my family that summarizes fifty years of genealogical research. 

I started essays on the Boxford match factory and researched ideas for three possible books, none of which panned out--but it was good work.

Oh--- I almost forgot. :) We were blessed with our first grandson, Theodore Schultz Lindquist. I have re-learned my Raffi lyrics, how to change a diaper, and where the best swings are located. It's. been. the. greatest. thing. since. the 1990s. I haven't taken Theo to Anawan Rock yet, or told him about Willis Carrier's "Rational Psychrometric Formulae" or the mistake Eli Whitney made in his cotton gin business plan, but soon. However, I did build few books for him on Shutterfly, including one to prepare him for birding.

My pig continues to behave. I even met a gentleman on my last Mass Audubon trip who had a porcine valve inserted in 2008 (thirteen years before me), and he thinks he's got another five years before the pig konks out. I was hoping for a decade of steady oinks, so that news was very, very encouraging.

Our couples book club passed 22 years and 162 books, with Barbara Kingsolver's Demon Copperhead becoming one of my all-time favorites.

As for birding, I've hit the usual local hotspots, running my life list up to 725 species. I also 

• Traveled to Block Island with Mass Audubon earlier this month, adding a Buff-breastedSandpiper and a Clay-colored Sparrow
• Birded a little on Star Island (Isle of Shoals) as part of a King Philip's War book talk, getting to spend time with one of my favorite archaeologists and historians, Dr. Emerson Baker

• 

  Bay View, August 2023, one of the
  best handbell concerts all year

  Visited Rocky Mountain National Park last summer (while babysitting for a Taylor Swift concert) and was lucky to add a Violet-green Swallow, Mountain Chickadee, Pygmy Nuthatch, Mountain Bluebird, Western Tanager, Spotted Towhee, Black-chinned Hummingbird, and a Broad-tailed Hummingbird. That collection is big-time stuff for an Easterner!
• Birded around Bay View in Petoskey, Michigan (though I am habitually three weeks late visiting Hartwick Pines to see a Kirtland Warbler), while my lovely and talented wife played handbells
• And birded the Finger Lakes (including Montezuma, where we spotted a Trumpeter Swan) with a visit to Cornell's birding center last November.

Here are some of my favorite bird photos taken during that period. First, from the aforementioned Finger Lakes:

Tweets for Tweets (6): My Favorite Bird Photos of H1 2022

For every 100 pictures I take, I keep about five. I then rank each one as a 3, 2, or 1. 

When I show someone a 3, they say, "Oh, that's a Robin."  When I show someone a 2, they say, "Eric, that's a great picture of a Robin." When I show someone a 1, they say, "You didn't take that picture of a Robin, did you?"

In other words, if I've been slightly insulted, that picture is usually a 1. I've taken a couple of hundred thousand pictures of birds and have accumulated maybe five "1s." 

If a professional relies on light, color, and composition, I rely on volume and luck.

Herewith, my sixth post of bird pictures, my favorites from the first half of 2022-- unofficially, "COVID, year 3." My favorites are the Warblers, not because they are 1's, but because getting a good picture of a Magnolia or Chestnut-sided Warbler is a little bit like reaching level 15 of Space Invaders.

For anyone under 40, here's the link.

Tweets for Tweets (5): My Favorite Bird Photos of H2 2021

Double-crested Cormorant, drying out

The second half of 2021 has been a blur. Are we in the fourth or fifth spike of COVID? Did I get my booster shot? Where have I (already) lost my (replacement) vaccination card? 

And did someone get married? 

As my cousin Matt Mitchell pointed out, there are ten letters between Delta and Omicron in the Greek alphabet. What haven't we been told?

Apart from the pandemic, the world seems to have become a very odd place. There's Billie Eilish, for example, who, hard as I try, I don't get. I'm sure that means I'm like the classical music fan in 1920 who didn't get jazz, or the jazz fan in 1950 who didn't get rock, but I cannot lie. I wish her well and am happy for her success, but I don't get her. At all.

I've also been following the rapid emergence of the metaverse, which is not only puzzling but exhausting. In the first week of December, someone spent $450,000 for a plot of virtual land next door to Snoop Dogg's mansion in the "Snoopverse" section of a metaverse world called The Sandbox. For the week, metaverse virtual land sales topped $100 million.

That is not Monopoly money.

Then there's the article that made the full-throated case that if Mark Zuckerberg's metaverse doesn't allow its avatars to have sex, it will fail. I learned many, many (many) new things from this article, most of which I will not print here. But, it turns out, Second Life residents were making genitalia for their avatars before the game got out of beta. So, the theory goes, Facebook must allow the same kind of creativity if it wants to succeed in this brave, new virtual world. 

If we've learned anything about Mark Zuckerberg's priorities in the last twenty years, then you can count on his metaverse hosting a booming teen market for genitalia, all while he's testifying before Congress promising that he'll do better next time. 

I am imagining the day when I have the opportunity to pay hard-earned cryptocurrency to purchase a non-fungible token that allows my avatar to attend a concert of Billie Eilish's avatar in a Mark Zuckerberg-metaverse amphitheater. I can promise you that such an opportunity will make my avatar's teeth hurt.

For sanctuary, there are always birds, right? I turned to the woods and Mother Nature when he-who-shall-not-be-named ruined social media. Cedar Waxwing and Harlequin Duck were one way to escape Twitter, to trade "tweets for tweets." Except, you many know, there is a Birds Aren't Real movement. It's intended to mock fake news and conspiracy theories, the idea that birds are drones full of surveillance equipment wired to the Deep State. But, of course, some of the people caught up in the movement don't realize it's a mockery. 

The last five years have taught us that something like 30% of Americans will. believe. anything.

Fortunately for us, birds are real. They're suffering under climate change and loss of habitat, but they're hanging in and getting support from great organizations like Mass Audubon.

And, of course, they're beautiful.

Here's my recap of some of the birds I spotted in the second half of 2021.

Tweets for Tweets (4): My Favorite Bird Photos of H1 2021

Common Grackle, stained-glass variety

The first six months of 2021 were a blur. I checked into Beth Israel in Boston at the end of January to have my wonky aortic valve replaced and, ever since, have been working out my new normal. 

That's in addition to finding the other, post-COVID, new normal that we've all been seeking. 

Hoping we're post-COVID, of course.

Birding turns out to be the perfect activity for someone ordered by his cardiologist to walk an hour every day. And with Audubon trips just resuming, everything in the first half of 2021 has been local, gentle, and mostly solo.

I'm looking forward to the second half of 2021. Meals at restaurants. Gettysburg visits. Puffins. Old Colony cemetery walks. Nantucket. Book-talks for Innovation on Tap. The next book. A new white paper or two. A blog post or three. A wedding. Maybe a West Coast junket. My new porcine valve--monitored by Sensitech, I assume--needs only to open and close 1.3 million times to get me through to New Year's. 

Piece of cake. 😎🐷

Below are some of my favorite bird photos from the first six months of 2021.

Snowy Owl

Chipping Sparrow in full camo

Photobombed

Tweets for Tweets (3): My Favorite Bird Photos H2 2020

Harbor Seal off Salisbury Beach, checking me out

For many of us, the second half of 2020 meant staying as far from microscopic, aerosolized harm as possible. For 50 million Americans, birding turned out to be a silver lining, an activity suited for a world where COVID favored crowded indoor venues. I count myself among that lucky 50 million.

Unlike H1 and my excursion to Colombia (see first half-2020 favorites here and 2019 favorites here), H2 2020 instead involved exploring some of the birding locations on the North Shore of Boston. Fortunately, these locations are also some of the best birding spots in America. 

Hosting 365(ish) species annually, Plum Island/Parker River National Wildlife Refuge is usually ranked in the top 5 birding locations in America.  An 11-mile long barrier island, it's a collection of beaches, sand dunes, salt marshes and pannes, freshwater impoundments, and maritime forests. It's bonkers during spring and fall migration, a good spot to see Snowy Owls and Rough-legged Hawks in the winter, and a breeding area for the endangered Piping Plover. 

Salisbury Beach State Reservation sits across the mouth of Merrimack River from Plum Island. It's another site ideally suited for birdwatching, though (for me), a preferred cold-weather site after the RVs have disappeared. Great rafts of Eiders and Scoters float around harbor seals. Snow Buntings practice their takeoffs and landings. In irruptive years like 2020, flocks of Crossbills feast in the pines. And, like Plum Island, Salisbury can host Snowy, Saw-whet, Long-eared Owls, and Eagles . . .

Salisbury is where I saw the Eagle surfing an ice floe from the Atlantic down the Merrimack River in December 2019.

My home base for birding is the Ipswich River Wildlife Sanctuary, Mass Audubon's largest sanctuary and part of the Eastern Essex County Interior Forest Important Bird Area. Its magnificent 2,800 acres are also the hub for a collection of sanctuaries that, though I'll spare you the details, made getting out during COVID not just possible but pleasurable. (One of these sanctuaries, Rough Meadows, took me back to my business school days and one of business history's greats, Professor Alfred Chandler. I wrote about my visit to that sanctuary here.)

Tweets for Tweets (2): My Favorite Bird Photos of H1 2020

I managed to sneak three birding adventures in the first half of 2020 before the Coronavirus lockdown in March.  Two were wintertime trips in New England and the third included ten days in Colombia, traveling along the Andes from Cali to Medellin.  We visited the Anchicaya Valley, the Sonso wetlands, Otun Quimbaya, Los Nevados National Park (13,500' elevation), the Reserva Ecologica Rio Blanco, Cuidad Bolivar (for a pair of Speckled Owls), Las Tangaras, and beautiful Jardin.

In all, we saw more than 400 species, most new to me. My head exploded sometime between days 6 and 7 but my fellow birders propped me up and down the mountains, clicking away.  I needed three months, our nightly bird lists, and Merlin Bird ID to identify everything stuffed into my camera.  

Below, I've chosen my favorites pictures from the Colombia trip, preceded by a handful from my H1 local activities.  (Here are my favorite bird photos from 2019.) It's worth saying that North America is down 3 billion birds since 1970, much of the loss due to habitat destruction. Two-thirds of the remaining species are threatened by climate change. Industry manages to kill more than a billion birds annually.  To add to these human-made catastrophes, the Trump administration is working to gut the100-year-old Migratory Bird Treaty Act. If this treaty is reinterpreted as the Department of Interior would like, industry would be "freed from legal liability even if their actions result in the predictable, avoidable, and massive killing of birds." I'm hoping the string runs out before this reinterpretation is approved. 

Anyway, from New England:

It wasn't a big winter in New England for Snowy Owls, but a few graced our presence. Snowy Owls are the Beyoncé of the local birding kingdom; when one is spotted, an adoring crowd quickly assembles. 

Tweets for Tweets: My Favorite Bird Photos of 2019

A Great Horned Owl.  Top of the food chain.  Good for
marketing blog posts.

In February 2016, our book club read The Big Year. It's the story of three men who, in 1998, competed to establish a North American birding record.  One succeeded, counting 748 species.*

Until that book settled in my Kindle, I had no idea that there was a thing called "birding," or that there was an entire world of hikers, world travelers, citizen scientists, ornithologists, and conservationists who spent much of their waking time watching and studying birds.

For me, this activity was an epiphany--who else knew?  It turns out, 50 million Americans plan an outing to observe birds every year.

But if birding was epiphany, it would also turn out to be escape.  In early 2016, I needed to get away from my screens in the worst way, far from our new administration and the damage it was inflicting on the American democratic experiment.  My Facebook feed was turning toxic, and Twitter went from being noise to a black hole of contempt sucking energy and goodwill out of our nation.

In the process, I traded tweets for tweets, heading into the woods with my Sibley bird book, camera, ebird app, and binoculars, sometimes with an experienced guide from Mass Audubon. It was like stepping inside a huge video game (with fresh air) where I needed to focus, observe, and, in the words of Monty Python, prepare for something completely different.

Flash ahead to December 2019.  I now have 286 species on my life list.  (There are people who count nearly that many different birds every few months, but I persist.)  More to the point, I now know what a life list is.  The Ipswich River Wildlife Sanctuary and Plum Island have become second homes and places of refuge.  And every so often, by being patient and lucky, I'll take a picture I like of a bird I like.

Here, then, in an ongoing trade of tweets for tweets, are my favorites photos from 2019:

This is an Egret that I photographed early in the morning with my friend Rebecca
for one of her excellent "running with" birding articles.

These two Pileated Woodpeckers met me on our driveway as I returned home from a run.  They were nice enough to
stick around while I dashed inside to get my camera.

In Praise of Alfred D. Chandler, Jr: Birding the Visible Hand

Some of my go-to business books, The Visible Hand
being among the most important 

One of the business history books I most admire is Alfred D.Chandler Jr.’s The Visible Hand: The Managerial Revolution in American Business. It is impressive in every way, and an important touchstone for my research on Innovation on Tap.

The Visible Hand won the Pulitzer Prize in 1978, doing for business history what Jared Diamond did for our understanding of civilizations and Yuval Harari for evolution: Professor Chandler presented a unifying theory that explained the growth of modern capitalism.

“Almost single-handedly,” The Economist wrote, “Alfred Chandler (1918-2007) invented the study of business history.”  In his obituary, the New York Times described Chandler as “shunning the old debate about whether tycoons are good or bad, and instead arguing persuasively in almost two dozen books that it was the emergence of professional management that propelled modern capitalism.”  

Food Foolish #8: What About the Birds?

Photo: Mark Thiessen/National Geographic Creative

Whenever I present Food Foolish to a live audience, I always try to end on a hopeful note, saying that if we are smart and diligent, we can reduce food waste. And when we’re successful, the result will be good for everyone: less hunger, reduced carbon emissions, a stable agricultural footprint, more available fresh water, and greater food security for populations around the world.  Nobody loses. 

I usually see people nod in agreement until one evening at a local college, someone asked, “What about birds?” 

“Birds?” I asked. 

“What,” she explained, “would happen to birds that had come to depend on landfills if we stopped wasting food?”

It was a good question.  In the United States and other developed countries, much of the food we waste shows up in landfills.  Unfortunately, I had no answer at the time.  Recently, I decided to try to figure it out: How dependent are birds on human food waste, and what happens if we reduce it—as so many individuals, corporations, and governments are now committed to doing?