Owl Prowl at Alley Pond Park

The Golden Rule

The Goats
San Clement Island Goat I am not the only Laben undertaking new life stages lately. One of my sisters and her husband, aggrieved with city life, have signed a contract on a New Homestead. Though they must toil in the urban salt mines a bit longer, they’re starting to plan what they will raise on their farm. No monoculturists they! They want a blend of crops and critters adapted to the landscape, able to thrive with a minimum of artificial inputs, and generally healthier than

Greatest Hits?
So, as those of you who follow along with my multifarious online facets already know, I’m applying to various programs in an attempt to get my flippers on an M.F.A in Creative Nonfiction with a nature writing concentration. In order to be invited to plunge back into academia, though, I need a portfolio, and it needs to kick ass. The bulk of my portfolio is composed of the proposed first chapter of the proposed Labrador Duck book. But I also want a few shorter pieces, and for this purposes, I’d like my loyal readers to let me know which they consider the Greatest of the Auk – entries that you think are A.) well-written and B.) would respond well to bein

Night at the Museum, or How I Saw the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker
Painted Redstarts, American Museum of Natural History The Dovkie’s head flopped loosely as Paul showed it around the room, asking if anyone knew what it was. I’d already volunteered the “auk” part, and was trying to maintain the discipline of letting someone else have a chance, especially since there were a lot of kids on this tour. They seemed kind of overwhelmed, though. Maybe it was the hog-tied, half

In the Weeds
The morning is cold, and it’s damp, although not the buckets-from-the-sky affair that yesterday was. Dawn is getting later and later. The lawn seems bare of birds, except for a single female Flicker. Overhead, a white-tailed young Red-tailed Hawk calls. It’s my first return to Prospect Park since my overwhelming San Diego adventure (conclusion pending) and things seem quiet, despite favorable overnight winds and gushing reports of a wild sparrow bonanza the previous day. Could I ever readjust to land? Could I go home again? Or was I, like so many birders, doomed to eternal restlessness, always investing somewhere else with the glamor of new birds and new exp

The New York Times Agrees With Me
“Yet even with these clearer design cues, customers will have to be taught to think about the destination of every throwaway if the zero-waste philosophy is to prevail, environmental officials say…” That’s the thing, isn’t it? You have to think all the time. Think when you buy. Think when you discard. Know about stuff that has been hidden from view, often quite purposefully, often because we don’t want to know and never have (Not in MY backyard…) And I find… I’m not saying this to be cruel, or accuse people of being