Hoary Redpoll. A species I have rarely seen as it stays up in the far North even in the bleakest, snowiest of winters. But–Hoary Redpoll will forever be associated in my mind with Eleanor Mattusch, a long-time Linnaean Society Of New York member who died June 1, 2022.
I first met Eleanor in 1977, when I was a rather new member of LSNY. She was one of those people who I had a rapport with, as we had similar views on the absurdities of life, and was able to share it with observational, sometimes ironic humor. She also was a forthright person, never mean-spirited but not sugar-coating either.
Photograph courtesy of Richard ZainEldeen
Eleanor was a retired school teacher out in Queens, where she resided. She often birded in Central Park, as well as attended LSNY meetings. However, it was on the LSNY’s Centennial trip to Churchill, Manitoba in June 1978 that I really got to know her better.
It was I who discovered the Hoary Redpoll in a low, dense thicket east of the town of Churchill. Despite the fact that Eleanor, in her bright, smooth blue jacket and light patterned scarf, was directly behind me, she failed to see the bird. For years after that, she joked that it was my fault she hadn’t seen the Hoary Redpoll; it was years later while in Alaska, that she finally had that species as a Lifer.
Eventually, Eleanor moved from Queens to Cranberry Township, a place north of Pittsburgh where she had family. Just before she left, I paid a visit to her apartment for the first (and last) time and I have a photograph of our having dinner at a local diner. It is something I will always cherish.
I never saw her again. Through the years we did send email messages, and called occasionally.
She was getting frail with her maneuverability affected. But she still enjoyed her occasional Dewar’s on the rocks!
Last August 9th, I called her up to wish her a happy 91stbirthday. She told me about the assisted living place she was living at; how her wheelchair didn’t quite fit in her room. All with the same old Eleanor humor.
I never was able to speak to her again. She descended into the labyrinth of healthcare facilities where her phone kept ringing and ringing, but no one picked up and there were no answering machines on which I could leave a message.
Grateful. Yes, I am very grateful for the laughter we shared all those years. More importantly, I am certainly glad she finally saw that darned Hoary Redpoll!
I first met Tom when I interviewed for a job with him in late 1980, having been introduced by another longtime Linnaean member, Roger Pasquier. Like Tom, I was a native New Yorker, and had fallen in love with birds at Jamaica Bay and in Central Park. I met him at his family’s office in New York City, and within a second we both chuckled as we realized we were wearing identical blue Brooks Brothers suits. First impressions do count, and I was hired.
Born and raised in New York City, Thomas Lovejoy joined the Linnaean Society in 1961. He transcended his ornithological interests to become one of the most noted conservationists of our times. Tom, as he was known, became interested in birds as a child, but when he went to Millbrook School up the Hudson River, his broader intellectual curiosity in the biotic world was sparked. After Millbrook, he went to Yale, worked in the Peabody Museum as an undergrad, and even wandered off for a year to study birds along the Nile. Graduating in 1964, he stayed on for graduate work. He visited the Amazon to research avian migrants and fell in love with its magnificent flora and fauna. He then focused on the resident avian species and pioneered mist-netting in the Amazon’s forest canopy. He received his PhD in 1971 for delving into the mathematics of diversity (Lovejoy, T.E. 1975. Bird Diversity and Abundance in Amazon Forest Communities. Living Bird 13:127-191). At Yale he also became quite close to Professor Evelyn Hutchinson, who built on Charles Elton‘s idea of an ecological niche, further refining it as “a highly abstract multi-dimensional hyperspace.” Evelyn, who studied nutrient cycling, was also one of the first proponents of the notion that an increase in carbon dioxide would lead to a global temperature increase.
At Yale, Tom also fell in love with and married another professor’s daughter, Charlotte Seymour. Her grandfather had been Yale’s president, and her father a distinguished art historian. Tom and Charlotte, who was known as Mopsy (from Beatrix Potter’s tales), started their family in New Haven. Tom remained an inveterate Yalie all his life, closely involved with its School of the Environment and later chairing the University’s Institute for Biospheric Studies, known as the Biosphere 2.
After New Haven, he moved to Washington D.C. with Charlotte to raise their family and begin a career in conservation, though they amicably divorced shortly thereafter. Throughout his career, Tom was a major proponent of three key issues: the loss of biological diversity, tropical deforestation, and climate change. Indeed, he coined the term biological diversity, which he later shortened to biodiversity. He brought each of these issues to the world’s attention through both his research and his ability to bring people together. While at the World Wildlife Fund, Tom started the incredibly ambitious Minimum Critical Size of Ecosystems project, now called the Biological Dynamics of Forest Fragments Project. In perhaps the largest study ever of forest fragmentation, Tom worked with the Brazilian government and local ranchers near Manaus to preserve forest plots of one hectare, 10 hectares, and 100 hectares that were isolated by surrounding grazing areas. He then raised the funds to bring in a host of North American and Brazilian scientists and students to study the effects of isolation on each plot’s flora and fauna (Lovejoy, T.E., and D.C. Oren. 1981. The minimum critical size of ecosystems. Pp. 7-12 in R.L. Burgess and D.M. Sharp, Eds. Forest Island Dynamics in Man Dominated Landscapes. Ecological Studies Vol. 41. Springer-Verlag; and Bierregaard, R. O. 2001. Lessons from Amazonia: The Ecology and Conservation of a Fragmented Forest. Yale University Press). The project, managed on site for its first eight years by Rob Bierregaard, was not only epic in scope, but brought a host of trained academicians to the Amazon and, as importantly, trained a generation of Brazilian biologists. Over the years this project and other facets of his work involved a number of Great Gull Islanders and Linnaean members, whom Tom relentlessly recruited for his projects.
As vice-president for science at the World Wildlife Fund–U.S. under Russell Train, whopreviously had headed the EPA, Tom also provided scientific reviews and recommendations on all the projects the organization considered funding. Among many many others, Tom ardently supported Russell Mittermeier’s work on primates and Anne Labastille’s efforts to protect and restore the Lake Atitlan Grebe. Reflecting Tom’s panache, her work on this highly endangered species was celebrated every July 14 (Bastille Day) in his office. He wrote copiously and spoke frequently, and was considered the consummate conservation host in the nation’s capital. Nearly every week, when he was not in Brazil or traveling elsewhere, Tom would pull together splendid but low-key dinners for visiting conservationists at his home, called Drover’s Rest, in McLean, Virginia. E.O. Wilson, Paul Ehrlich, Jared Diamond, George Woodwell, Jane Lubchenco, and many others were his guests. Following a tour of his splendid garden, filled with unusual and interesting plants, guests were treated to a table laden with good food and great wines, and a long comfortable evening spent plotting conservation strategies. Indeed, it was because of George Woodwell, founder of the Woods Hole Research Center (now known as the Woodwell Climate Research Center), that late one night in the early 1980s Tom’s interest in climate change was reignited. He pondered a graph that George shared, showing rising global atmospheric carbon levels, and, recollecting Evelyn’s work, soon began to promote an awareness of the ecological consequences (Climate Change and Biodiversity. Lovejoy & Hannah, Eds. 2006. Yale Univ. Press).
Long a great admirer and close friend of ornithologist Dillon Ripley, his professor at Yale and later secretary of the Smithsonian (1964-84), Tom himself had a hankering to work for the Smithsonian, and after his time at WWF, from 1987 until 1994, he was the assistant secretary for the environment there. He stayed on a bit longer as a senior scientist. Then, in 2002, he became president of the H. John Heinz III Center for Science, Economics and the Environment. In recent years he was a professor at George Mason University, lecturing on biodiversity.
Thomas Eugene Lovejoy III was born to Thomas Jr. and Jeanne Gillette Lovejoy, their only child, in 1942. His grandfather had acquired the Manhattan Life Insurance Company in 1912, and his father was later its president. Throughout his life, Tom remained involved with the company and later chaired its board. Indeed, it is perhaps not surprising that New York City’s first re-introduced set of Peregrine Falcons were hacked off the company’s building on West 57th Street by Tom Cade. (https://www.audubon.org/news/remembering-tom-cade-father-peregrine-falcon-conservation)
Tom’s marriage to Charlotte ended in a divorce, but they remained close friends until she passed away in 2013. Tom and Charlotte are survived by their three daughters, Elizabeth, Katherine, and Anne, plus six grandchildren.
Throughout his career Tom was a prolific author (he edited 10 books and authored or co-authored 321 papers) and spoke tirelessly about the issues important to him, leveraging his charm to reach a wider audience. After working for him for several years, I came to think of him as Mother Nature’s elf on Earth—always smiling, self-deprecating, witty, welcoming, and immeasurably bright. Even amidst all his research and the need to raise funds and deal with the tentacles of bureaucracy, he still managed with his trademark effervescent joy and great aplomb to bring influential and politically connected people to the Amazon and to his side, including Walter Cronkite, Tom Cruise, Ben Bradlee, and Al Gore. Tom always danced on the edge of politics and science—even, in the 1980s, coming up with the notion of nature-for-debt swaps as a way for wealthy nations to fund nature preserves in developing countries, an idea being replicated currently in the form of carbon tax credits. Not surprisingly, Tom received a number of accolades for all his great work, including election to the American Academy of Arts & Sciences, the American Philosophical Society, and the U.S. National Academy of Science. He was also awarded USC’s Tyler Prize for Environmental Achievement and the Blue Planet Prize.
Tom was a frequent visitor to NYC and attended the Society’s banquet in 2020. Deep down, I will dare say, he was always a New Yorker at heart—bright, energetic, and competitive….just don’t tell his great circle of Washington friends.
The Linnaean Society of New York fondly remembers legendary local naturalist and educator Mickey Maxwell Cohen, who received the Society’s Natural History Award in 2012. He passed away at the end of December at the age of 94. Mickey was an educator, a naturalist, an environmentalist, a civil rights activist, and an intellectual, in addition to being expert in antique restoration, ornithology, marine life, and foraging wild foods.
Photograph courtesy of Don Riepe
Mickey was instrumental in the concept design for Beach Channel High School—a NYC high school on the shores of Jamaica Bay in Queens, NY, that was intended to integrate marine studies into every subject taught. He served as assistant principal and chair of science and oceanography, and throughout his career received numerous scientific and teaching awards.
He also served as chief scientist and much-loved naturalist for the Littoral Society in New York. For over 40 years, Mickey and Don Riepe, a long-term member of the Linnaean Society of New York, led natural history trips for the Littoral Society to places near and far, including Montauk, Chincoteague, Costa Rica, Africa, Cape Ann, the Galapagos, and one of his favorite local haunts, Dead Horse Bay in Jamaica Bay. His favorite place of all was perhaps the Galapagos Islands, which he visited over 20 times. He was always willing to share his wide knowledge with everyone.
His love of nature and natural history has inspired several generations to follow in his footsteps by becoming outdoor enthusiasts, environmental protectors, and nature lovers. He will be greatly missed by many people.
Long time Linnaean Society of New York member Jean Blair died this past January in her native England. She resided in Manhattan and worked for the United Nations for many years until her retirement in 1988, whereupon she returned to her family home in Uckfield. I first met Jean back in 1977 and we struck up a friendship that lasted for decades. I found her to be a charming person, with a sense of humor about what was going on in our lives. I will never forget her delight when a roosting nightjar sitting low on a branch in the Central Park Ramble turned out to be her life Eastern Whip-poor-will, and not, as first thought, a Chuck-will’s-widow, a species she had previously seen. She literally grabbed me in her excitement.
I paid her a visit when we visited England back in the fall of 1996. I will never forget her kindness in showing us her quaint cottage, where her mother had taught private students. The weather had turned chilly, and Jean had her gardener cover her flowers so that they would not wither overnight in the low temperatures. She took us to a lovely, old-fashioned shop for tea and scones; for lunch we dined at a 16th-century inn that specialized in bangers and mash—but the bangers were made fresh across the road! She also showed me my life Marsh Tit.
Every year Jean would make a February/early March visit to New York City, and every year we would have dinner on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, a block or two from where she was staying. We would laugh and talk about the old LSNY days. We only birded once in all those years, and that was a quick day trip to Central Park to look for the Varied Thrush (which we unfortunately did not find).
I was in England in April 2019 and rang her up to ask if I could take the train down to see her once more, as she hadn’t been able to fly to New York for her annual visit for a couple of years. She was not up to it, so I had to be content with talking on the phone.
The last time I spoke with Jean was in early September of 2020. She had had some physical problems necessitating a rather long hospitalization in the spring of 2020. However, when she picked up the phone in September, she told me that I “couldn’t have picked a better time to call her.” When I rang off I had no idea it would be the last time I heard her voice.
One species that had always eluded Jean and which she often talked about was the American Bittern. She never did see it.
Well, my dear Jean, I regret that I never was able to show you that American Bittern. I will miss you.
Sadly, I must report the loss of the Society’s oldest member. Michael Burke Flynn of El Paso Texas, passed away at home on October 26, 2020. Michael was 100 years old. He joined the Society in 1937, 83 years ago. His daughter Bonnie, tells us that each year Michael insisted on renewing his membership in the Society. On behalf of the LSNY, I wish to extend our sincerest condolences to the entire Flynn family and to the friends of Michael Burke Flynn. The full obituary is here.
— Ken Chaya, President, The Linnaean Society of New York
David Burg, New York naturalist and conservationist, died suddenly on July 11, 2020, while doing what he loved best—enjoying a day out in one of New York’s natural areas.
David had a way of quickly befriending people he’d just met. As one who struggles with shyness, I was always amazed by his ease at starting conversations with strangers. But his conversations were not just idle chit-chat. He really got to know people. He knew how to draw out their interests and was always fascinated by their stories. He was a mentor who taught so many to appreciate the beauty and importance of the natural world. David was a family man. He cared deeply for his family and for all of us who were lucky enough to belong to his “adopted” family. To see the influence he had on people’s lives, one need only look at his Facebook page and read the incredible number of tributes written by friends, family, and even people he had never met in person but knew from Facebook conversations.
David formed his non-profit, WildMetro to fight for the preservation of the nature around us, never an easy task. Despite the difficulties, he always managed to remain positive, continually teaching and fighting. His knowledge, curiosity, and incessant defense of nature inspired and continues to inspire so many of us. He was generous with his knowledge and his time, never thinking twice about driving out of his way to pick up people who needed a ride, just to make sure they were able to join a nature walk. He knew all the local natural areas intimately and was eager to share them with anyone willing to take a walk with him. He led regular New Year’s Day walks and especially enjoyed leading the yearly Superb Owl Walk (for those of us who are not football fans). It was on these walks that some of us got to see nesting owls in New York for the first time!
David considered himself a birder first but was interested in all of nature. He had a special affinity for trees, especially the radiant field-grown oaks he was so fond of showing off to all of us. He was a naturalist, something that has become increasingly rare. And this world needs more naturalists. Thankfully, the young men and women he mentored are now excellent naturalists themselves, continuing the work of conservation and teaching.
If you read the posts regarding the loss of David, you will notice one theme throughout: we all feel our time spent with him was not enough. We all want one more walk in nature with David. New York has lost a nature champion and we have all lost a dear friend.
Douglas P. Murray died on April 19th at the age of 84. His loss is mourned by his wife Peggy Blumenthal, daughter Gwyn Firth Murray, and grandchildren Laila and Oscar Murray Volpe. He was born in Tenafly, NJ, earned his BA degree at Yale and a PhD at Stanford University. His long career was spent strengthening US-Asia relations. At first he taught in Hong Kong through the Yale-China Program, but later served as the Singapore Director of the Asia Foundation. He was Vice President of the East-West Center and President of the National Committee on US-China Relations, the China Institute and the Lingnan Foundation.
Doug was an active lifetime lover of nature and wildlife who spent many happy years walking the woods and trails of the California Sierras, in Vermont and near Grafton, CT where he also played cornet in the town band. He was active in the Tenafly, NJ Nature Center and was a regular participant of the AMNH Wednesday birdwalks led by Joe DiCostanzo. He was a member of the Linnaean Society of New York since 2010 and will be missed by his friends everywhere.
Clive Minton died in a car accident on November 6, 2019 in Australia where he lived. The Linnaean Society of New York honored Minton with the Eisenmann Medal at the annual dinner in 2012. Minton is renowned for his study of shorebirds. He began his research on shorebirds in his native England. When his job in the metals industry required relocating to Australia, he continued and expanded his banding there. He pioneered the use of cannon nets to capture shorebirds. His long term studies have produced much information on shorebird migration, and have had consequential implications for their conservation. Minton shared his banding expertise with many others, and in many countries, including in South America and in the US. He came every year from 1997 to Delaware Bay to band the many shorebirds, in particular, the Red Knot, drawn to the horseshoe crab eggs. His voice helped give impetus to a limitation on the harvest of horseshoe crabs in New Jersey, and later to the current moratorium on harvesting.
Part of the Eisenmann Medal is for encouragement of the amateur. Minton, himself the ultimate amateur, was superlative in this regard. The volunteers who banded with him often attain a lifelong interest in shorebird, birds, and nature. His enthusiasm was well known and contagious. His life and work is an inspiration for us.
