Laura Erickson, Ornithologist.- - - - Q: How did you first become interested in birds? Q: How did you begin to learn the names of birds? Q: How old were you? There was a bird called a resplendent quetzal and it caught my eye. It's the national bird of Guatemala. I loved the sound of the word "resplendent," so much that I started calling everything resplendent. I said, "These Cheerios are resplendent," or, "I cleaned the toilet until it was resplendent." I had no sense of geography. So I would look for birds in my neighborhood—like peregrine falcons and bee hummingbirds and ostriches—I thought maybe they could be in the next maple tree. Q: When did you first recognize specific birds? I went through childhood not knowing how to find birds. In high school, I was in debate and we would take the bus to downtown Chicago to go to the library. I was dating this guy who would become my husband and who was my debate partner. We were walking and I found this greenish-brown bird, dead, on its back. It had a pure-white underside, its eyes had rings around them, and it looked so sad. I could easily see how it died in downtown Chicago, but I couldn't see what it was doing there in the first place. The funny thing is, I was headed to the library but I didn't know they had books that could tell me what this bird was. After we were married, for Christmas his mother bought me binoculars and a field guide. The bird I had found was in there. It was an ovenbird, which is a warbler. And it was like floodgates had been opened. I was like Helen Keller, discovering the names for everything. Reading my field guide cover to cover was like being let out of a small world and into a much bigger one. After that, I read another field guide, and a book about birding in Chicagoland, and a guide to birdwatching. On March 2, 1975, I went to the woods with my dog and hiked for two hours before I finally found a bird. I couldn't tell which bird it was—there were two that looked the same to me. But the book said you could tell them apart by their voice. Then I learned that they had bird recordings at the library, and so I went and listened to the recordings. That's how I identified my first bird—a chickadee. Q: Were there other people who helped you learn? That spring I found out that Michigan State, where I went, had ornithology classes. I was hooked from the moment I went out that first time with my dog and saw that chickadee. I saw 40 species that spring and I was very proud of myself. Now I usually see at least 40 species a day. Q: Did you get your degree in ornithology? I was a junior-high-school teacher. Then I stayed home and had children and started writing about birds. I've written a couple of books. My third book will be out in the spring and it's called 101 Ways to Help Birds. Q: Is it for adults, or children? I also do a local radio show about birds. I've been doing it for just about 20 years. Nine radio stations carry it—most are local (Wisconsin and Minnesota), but it's also carried in South Dakota and Jamestown, New York. Q: What do you do on the show? Do you take callers, or ...? I also have an owl for education. His name is Archimedes—my son named him. When I'm gone, my kids have to defrost a mouse for him every day. Q: Where do you get frozen mice? Q: Where do you keep the owl? I won the American Ornithologists' Union's Bird-Calling Contest for my owl calls. I often lead owl walks. A great horned owl has a soft, mellow hoot. Barred owls are the easiest to call in with imitations. Q: What kind of jobs do most ornithologists take? Q: How long have you been doing it? Q: Do you have a favorite bird? Q: How can you tell that birds are intelligent? Months after I'd stopped feeding them, the first time I whistled and held my hand out the window, in they flew. And now again they fly outside my office window, and peck at the glass to get my attention. I open the window with a worm in my hand and they take it. Birds are not only smart but they are smart enough to train humans to be their servants. Q: Is there anything you'd like people to know about birds? My grandpa had two pet canaries and he told me about how canaries saved the lives of miners, because the canaries died when there was too much carbon monoxide in the air. The miners were sad, because the canaries were their pets, but they were grateful because they saved their lives. When birds die it's usually a warning. The bird flu is partly because we're raising domesticated birds badly—in overcrowded conditions with high stress. And when poultry gets sick with just about any disease, they can spread it to us. Countries that are still using DDT actually have malaria rates that are worse than ever because they used the DDT to kill mosquitoes, but it also kills dragonflies, birds, and others that feed on mosquitoes. Our fate is so tied to nature's. We're all on this little planet together. - - - -
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