by Paul McGuire
October, 2008
A few days ago (September 28), a Western Maine Audubon member in Jay e-mailed her concern about an absence of chickadees at feeders in her neighbor hood lately. She wondered whether other members have experienced similar disappearances at their stations, and seemed to wonder whether it might be cause for concern. A week before, I received a call from another member in Starks, whose concern over a half-dozen deaths of goldfinches and unidentified sparrows at her feeder led her to inquire as to what might be wrong.
In responding to the issue of the missing chickadees, I first noted that we’ve received nothing in the mail about large scale disappearances of chickadees, and further that members of the clans around our place flit to the feeder from time to time, more to check in to see if it is still there, it seems, than to carry on the day-long feeding runs one witnesses in February. A walk along the edges of our fields and into the bordering alder and wild apple thickets tell us much more: the bushes are full of chickadees “pigging out” on the harvest of the season. Seeds, ant eggs and tiny crawly critters of all sorts are to be had for a minimum of effort – easy foraging which is the real point of their coming to our feeders in the first place. When the seeds get frozen and buried under snow, when the insect larvae disappear, when the easy pickings are gone, at that point “dee-dee-dee” will again be the background noise of our shrubs and shade trees.
The case of goldfinches and sparrows seeming to have difficulty in swallowing, looking poorly, and dying in the member’s yard led me to advise her to contact Susan Gallo, staff biologist at Maine Audubon. Whether the Starks member’s feeder friends happened to have expired naturally or if they came to some sort of foul end, she agreed to pass the findings on to us.
These and similar communications over the past two years of my tenure “in the chair,” are not surprising. After all, members of Western Maine Audubon, are generally people who know the meaning of stewardship, that essential attribute of all who harbor affection and concern for Maine’s wild inhabitants. Feeder guests are not seen by their hosts as seasonal yard ornaments; rather, they are recognized as fellow travelers, sharers of place and time, no less than our equals in their need for healthful places in which to live and prosper.
As stewards, we know that the matter of favorable habitat requires all of us in the Audubon network to think beyond our personal backyards, dear though they may be. We know that in the course of a year many of the species who visit our feeders need much more than local shade trees and gardens to survive. They need uncluttered wild space, lots of it in order for many of them to survive; they need clean water and clean air no less than we do; they need migration routes as safe as nature will allow.
The list goes on, as we all know. We also know it isn’t enough to simply preach to our own choir on these matters, as I’m doing here; it is important to support local land trusts, municipal conservation commissions and other organizations dedicated to habitant enhancement and preservation. Since much of the effort to protect wild habitats involves public policy at all levels, we must be ready to speak, write letters, and otherwise show our resolve before those government agencies and commissions whose duties are to practice stewardship in the very same places. Finally, we must never forget the legislative halls and executive offices from whence public policy comes to life, and to remember this when we cast our ballots this November.
We know we will “win some and lose some” as the saying goes, but, as the good stewards we attempt to be, what choice do we have but to carry on?