Check out more photos from the event:

Did you devote a part of this day to service? If so, what did you do?

Contributed by J. Drew Lanham

Birding while black; it’s not something that I simply think about, it’s something that I live.

A birder since the age of eight, I’ve always been the odd one out; the “rare” bird in the flock. Now approaching the fifty year mark faster than I care to admit, it wasn’t until my late twenties that I began to encounter the other rare birders of color out there. It’s unfortunate that it’s become normal for me to be “that guy”. Accepting it has been a challenge and at times a chore. On a few occasions it’s been downright scary.

Not that I haven’t enjoyed the bird-filled days afield with my fair-faced friends, but being the only one at a meeting, or having the stares (real or perceived) linger on you just a little longer gets tiresome. Even more so, having my color factor into my thoughts as to where I might bird is a sad but true reality. Do I really want to chase Chukar into the same far flung areas that folks have set up to separate themselves from the “mongrelization” of America? Will the folks who live in places where black faces are uncommon (or not readily accepted) accept my crepuscular habits as something less suspicious than the search for secretive sparrows? Will the police really believe that I was just looking for the skulking Connecticut warbler that was reported in that shrubby corner of the park yesterday?

These have been just a few of the realities that I’ve lived and pondered over the years–almost on a daily basis. Perhaps, as some say, it’s my own paranoia. Certainly with Obama in office all of the racism and hate has disappeared. African-Americans have arrived and so certainly among the largely liberal bastions of birders progress in the area of diversity has been made. Really?  Really? Guess again. I’m here to tell you that skin color still matters in 2011. Birding is among the “whitest” things a person can do. I just happen to be one of the few that adds a different hue to the mix. It’s critical that along with biodiversity we think about the human component as something just as important. Linking humans of all hues to nature–through birds or otherwise, means that more will be engaged in trying to save it. Air, water, birds, trees–we all need them. That word has to get out.

Students birding at a Summer enrichment experience-definitely not the norm!

This past weekend I had the distinct honor of being a panelist at the Focus on Diversity: Changing the Face of American Birding meeting at the Heinz National Wildlife Refuge in Philadelphia.  A long overdue effort, it finally took the courage and uncanny persistence of a New Jersey birder and middle school teacher to turn the talk into action.  Dave Magpiong is not a star in the birding world. That was until yesterday when his dream for what should be took a flying leap off of the ledge of potential into being.

Dave & fledgling birders (photo courtesy- fledgling birders.org)

Quicker than a Cooper’s Hawk with the comedic comeback, Dave is as deeply impassioned and purposeful a person as I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Beyond his daily work as a teacher he founded an organization dedicated to getting kids out into nature with birds as the vehicle for doing so. His Fledgling Birder’s Institute ( http://www.fledgingbirders.org/ ) is proof that one person can indeed make a huge difference.  I met Dave  for the first time at the Rio Grande Valley Birding Festival last November in Harlingen, Texas. There we and several other fine fellows including Dudley Edmondson, Douglas Wayne Gray, Jeremiah Alexander, Roy Rodriguez and Paul Baicich became the Sky Dawgs. (What are Sky Dawgs you might ask?  Well, they are ravens. The name was bestowed upon us by Dudley on a winter birding trip in Duluth and it has stuck.  It’s a complimentary thing I think as ravens are smart, playful, mischievous and mysterious birds that hold sway in the lore of many native cultures. Plus, they are black—like me!)

The Sky Dawgs post Aplomado: (r-l) Dudley, Jeremiah, Doug, Roy, Dave, Me

At Dave’s insistence, prodding, pleading, cursing and cajoling, we found ourselves together in a hotel room one night with a few beers (okay –more than a few), a pizza or two and a bag of pork rinds.  With the combination of nutritious food, wholesome drink and kind company, the recipe for something less than an intellectual discussion was primed. However, we gathered there not to exchange bird sightings or crude jokes (though both did slip into the conversation from time to time), our hearts and heads instead were ready to share our ideas about why diversity should matter to birders beyond their life lists. We all had anecdotes of racism on the birding trail—covert, overt and sometimes scary—to solidify why the discussion of diversity had to be enjoined by the almost lily white cadre of millions who call themselves birders.  The hours of talking were a boon to my soul as I learned from this group of extraordinary people why the face of American birding has to change. That night, after much laughter, some empathetic anger and maybe even a timid tear or two, we all committed ourselves to the effort—to making something happen beyond the talk that too many conservation organizations simply throw out as well-meaning politically correct double talk when pressed about why the lack of color is so prevalent among them.

Typical Outing–One of these things is not like the other!

Beyond that initial meeting, the rest of the week with my fellow Sky Dawgs was spent cruising the South Texas landscape, finding Aplomado falcons and other birdy treasures.  I’ve never laughed as hard as when we encountered the mother of all western diamondback rattlesnakes or thought we’d been locked behind the gates of Laguna Atascosa one evening (Stay tuned for the story!). Watching the sun set on rafts of redhead ducks was a bonding over birds I’ll never forget.  I’ve also not felt as close to a group of birding friends as when we shared our hearts and minds over the serious issue of how people matter too.  I must throw a huge debt of gratitude to Mary Gustafson who organizes the Rio Grande Valley Birding Festival and  made the very courageous decision to diversify the leader group at the  event last year. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is also one of the Sky Dawgs. I’ll teach her the double-secret handshake when I make my way down there in a couple of weeks.  I don’t think the others will mind!

And so last month, it happened.  The meeting Dave Magpiong dreamed of and we all talked about in that hotel room happened.  A room of folks—of all colors and persuasions– filled a conference room at the John Heinz Refuge to capacity at the first Focus on Diversity: Changing the Face of American Birding meeting.  They listened, asked questions, net-worked and shared their heads and hearts as we had in that room that November night in Texas.  I felt honored to be among the number and humbled to serve on a couple of panels that spoke on the issues.  Private citizens and folks from several federal agencies (USFWS, USDA Forest Service), the American Birding Association, Audubon Together Green  and various other organizations showed up to support the cause. Folks as famous as Kenn Kaufman, John Robinson, Richard Crossley and Mamie Parks were there to lend their celebrity to the cause.

Unfortunately, several other organizations that should have been there to support the cause weren’t. The absence of folks from such an important gathering who say they care about such things spoke volumes to perhaps a lack of true commitment to the cause and a deeper problem that needs to be addressed.  We’ll all be watching to see if they join the push to make the community of birders a more inclusive neighborhood. We’ll welcome all comers to the party.  It matters if we want to conserve birds, habitats and have generations of people who look like the future of America to do so. Their perceptions of nature, the issues and ultimately passion and commitment to protect birds, water, air, trees and all the natural things that matter to all regardless of color will be shaped now.

Regardless of the absence of some of the “big guns”, I think one conclusion was obvious from the gathering.  Changing the homogeneous face of American birding will start with the individual.  For each of us, reaching out to someone of a different hue, mode of thinking or simply different somehow than ourselves will go a long way to making birding look more like America.  And that my Dear Kindred Conservationists, matters as much as the birds.

Philly Sky Dawgs–r-l; Dave, me, Paul, Doug, Roy, Dudley

Kudos to Dave and to my Sky Dawgs! Here’s to the work ahead and the next adventure! And here’s a hearty toast and tip of the hat to all those all who attended and committed to changing the face of American birding. Until we meet again! Good Birding!

J. Drew Lanham is a Professor at Clemson College, and a Certified Wildlife Biologist and Senior Ecologist

Last month’s bird was the very common Warbling Vireo.  The proverbial pendulum has swung dramatically to the other side with this month’s rare Indiana bird.

I sometimes have difficulty deciding on which bird to mention for a “Bird of the Month”.  Trying to decide which particular bird species stood out during a particular span of time…can be a daunting task for someone who simply loves to observe birds and their behavior.  (This probably manifests itself in my capacity to watch, what may be a very common species, for long periods of time.  Even the most common of birds will do “something extraordinary” and mind blowing if you observe them long enough.)

However, this month’s bird stands out quite readily; it is the Long-tailed Jaeger (also known as the Long-tailed Skua in many parts of the world).

The Long-tailed Jaeger is indeed a rare visitor to our state.  It is a bird more closely associated with the Arctic Tundra and Open Ocean rather than Central Indiana’s Eagle Creek Park where it was spotted.  The uniqueness of this bird showing up actually forced me into my “Brock’s Birds of Indiana” to see just how often this bird has been reported in Indiana. (“Brock’s Birds of Indiana” is an exhaustive work by Dr. Kenneth Brock. You can purchase it from the Indiana Audubon Society.  It is invaluable to Hoosier Birders.  I highly recommend it for your library.)

Brock notes there have been 22 recorded sightings of this bird in Indiana, with almost all of those sightings at Lake Michigan.  There had been no sightings for Central Indiana.  So, seeing this bird out at Eagle Creek was indeed a treat for not only me, but many, many others as well.

The adult Long-tailed Jaeger during breeding season is almost unmistakable to identify.  Its long, central tail feathers extend 5-10 inches beyond the rest of the tail, giving this bird its name. The juvenile bird that prompts this BOTM did not have this long tail feature.  Even so, Indiana birder and photographer Ryan Sanderson was able to help with a positive ID by capturing the bird’s two outermost primary feathers showing notable white shafts.

While observing this bird, I noticed it to be a very agile and graceful flyer.  It even seemed to be catching insects on the wing at one point.  I also noticed the bird showing its proclivity and ability to steal food from other birds.  (Laughing Gulls and Ring Billed Gulls in this jaegers’ proximity experienced the somewhat aggressive nature of this bird firsthand.)  For the most part, this bird seemed to have no problem catching its own fish with some proficiency.

As a birder, I get joy in being very surprised by birds every now and again.  Because they have wings, birds can surprise us with their potential to show up almost anywhere.  A Long-tailed Jaeger in Central Indiana?  When it comes to birds, it’s true; they have wings and tend to use them.

Lynne Arrowsmith

Douglas “Birdman” Gray has been birding almost all of his life. He grew up on a family farm near Clarksville, Tennessee, where they grew crops ranging from apricots to wheat, and most things in between. They also raised chickens, guineas, pigs, horses, and a cow named…….Apples. Doug’s grandfather identified the birds they would see daily on the farm.

Doug now resides in Indianapolis and works in Parenteral Engineering with Eli Lilly and Company. Most of his current birding takes place in Indiana, with a concentration on Central Indiana, where he leads bird walks for “Backyard Birds”. Doug can be reached at 317-255-7333.

For urban dwellers who would love to garden, but feel as though they don’t have enough, time, skills, or space, a re-popularized and fun solution is the sidewalk garden. These gardens not only invite beauty into the local surroundings, but also create an urban sanctuary for environmental allies such as birds, bees, and butterflies. For pedestrians and passersby, a sidewalk garden also promotes a sense of community pride, and a natural respite from the harsh angles of the urban setting.

Found in urban sidewalks everywhere are overlooked squares of soil tangled with weeds, or patches of dirt that might easily be converted into a supportive micro-landscape. For San Francisco architect Jane Martin, sidewalk gardens were a smart response to the periodic flooding happening in her neighborhood because they lowered the amount of impermeable surface area frequently challenged by sewer drain overflow and heavy rain run-off. So Martin recently led the charge in her city to convert concrete driveways into flower beds.

But sidewalk gardens are not entirely new. Almost forgotten are the “yard gardens” that are a part of a long tradition for early 20th Century African-American families and communities. Zora Neale Hurston’s book, The Gilded Six-Bits describes the fictional character Missie May’s front yard as, “a sidewalk edged on either side by quart bottles driven neck down into the ground on a slant. A mess of homey flowers planted without a plan but blooming cheerily from their helter-skelter places.” In this world, a sidewalk garden was a part of the melodic continuum of the front garden and a forum for individual expression.

Dianne Glave, co-editor of To Love the Wind and the Rain: African Americans and Environmental History, underscores how gardens were a public affair. She wrote, “African-Americans also displayed flowers for everyone’s viewing and pleasure, beckoning neighbors to take a closer look or visitors to chat in the yard’s fragrance and color.” Therefore yards were intentionally public as a critical way to support community.

Read more about how one African-American community transformed their community one garden at a time.

So where to begin? Here is some inspiration:

1634 Jerrold Avenue (near 3rd Street, Bayview District, San Francisco, CA)

Even if you do not have a nearby plot of dirt, or are unable to bust up concrete, consider container gardening as an option:

What to plant? Natives for your area are a good bet for low maintenance and environmental friendliness. And if available in your area, vertical plant options like Jasmine, Bougainvillea, or Trumpet Vine are showy and smell terrific for economy spaces. Also don’t disregard edibles like strawberries, or herbs like lavender or rosemary as generous neighborhood treats!

Once your sidewalk begins to bloom, you’ll notice how your community and the many species that live there benefit — including the homo sapiens!

What will you grow in your sidewalk garden?

Since founding Outdoor Afro, what has excited me most is the number of African Americans from around the country who share a variety of ways nature can be enjoyed. People post pictures, blogs, and videos that collectively shout, “Yes, we do love the outdoors!”

We sometimes forget that African Americans have always valued peace, recreation, and connection in natural spaces, but the way we connect with nature can sometimes look different than what others may define as “real” engagement and may not take on the form of  activities such as primitive camping, rock climbing, mountaineering, or whitewater rafting.

Black participation in nature can also be difficult to measure, and is rarely featured within mainstream media representation. But it does exist. From Harriet Tubman, who knew how to navigate slaves to freedom because of the interpretive path nature provided her, to our mother’s vegetable gardens that nourished our homes, to the black vacationers at American Beach – we have thrived in nature.

“But I hike all the time, and I never see African-Americans on the trail!”

There are indeed some graphic historic associations and memories involving prohibited access to parks; terror in the woods and in open water that inhibit some African Americans from building on our relationship with nature to include more places and activities. Dr. Carolyn Finney of UC Berkeley, Dr. Nina Roberts of San Francisco State University, and authors Audrey Peterman and Dianne Glave have each done a remarkable job of both researching  and documenting our fascinating history with nature; they all conclude that in spite of a sometimes tenuous past, positive African American relationships to land and place prevail.

But today, even as we work and conduct business together, Americans still lead somewhat segregated lives when it comes to where we live, worship, and recreate. Many African-Americans share on Outdoor Afro that they enjoy familiar nature easily accessible from home, such as local parks, lakes, or backyards in the company of family and friends, versus venturing miles away from cities to unfamiliar places where few people “look like them” and, in reality, may not welcome them.

So how do we dispel the myths?

Even those African Americans who swear they hate camping, and say they only do the outdoors if there is a 4-star hotel involved, can still admit to fond memories of fishing along the banks of a favorite lake with a family member, or might be found eagerly participating in family gatherings, celebrations, or reunions under the canopy of trees. Like this one:

So it is important to remember that engagement with the outdoors for African Americans, and other ethnic groups, can take on many forms in various places. It might look much different than mainstream adventure based activities. For these reasons, the work before those of us who are trying to create relevant outdoor programming, or share new experiences in nature should recognize and build on existing behaviors and preferences.

Therefore perhaps a more compelling leading query in the journey toward greater participation in the outdoors might be, “How can African Americans expand on their relationship to nature?” — an elevating question that Outdoor Afro and many others are eager to answer and will continue to pursue.

After our visit to the wildlife refuge, we leisurely moved along the scenic road toward the coastal fishing town of Seward that edges Resurrection Bay along the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska. We landed at the Seward Military Resort, a popular yet understated destination for US active duty or retired military personnel and their guests.

The manicured grounds were beautiful, yet sensible. And they have a selection of  yurts, guest rooms, or townhouses from which to choose. Since Mark is a US Army officer, it was an easy selection – and a perfect location for our planned activities. They also had an impressive Fish House I now realize was a key amenity to stage our activities for the next day.

But first, we took a tour by car around Seward then stopped for a bite to eat at Marina Café for some crispy halibut fish and chips. With calories to burn, we headed down the road for a hike to Kenjai Fjords National Park to visit Exit Glacier. It is one of the few places in the area where you can safely witness up close an ancient glacier with Ice Age origins that still re-shapes the landscape, and observe how plant life adapts to the barren rocky land exposed by a glacier’s retreat.

At the park, I appreciated that there were several trails from which to choose, from flat and easy to challenging. We decided on a self-led one-mile gradual climb though a cottonwood forest to a scenic edge of the glacier. On our way back, we chose a different route, where we carefully traversed rocks over a gentle river to access the terminus of the melting ice.

Once we arrived, we stood in front of the vast blue to take it all in and capture the scene in photos. We had already noted interpretive signage that warned visitors not to stand under an overhang of ice, as it can fall without warning, so we were careful!

Up Next: Adventures in Fishing Alaska Waters

Submitted by Outdoor Afro Brandon Pope, CIG, Education Specialist at the Anita B. Gorman Conservation Discovery Center. His blog exemplifies the need for relevant outdoor leadership to help youth feel more comfort and at ease to explore nature for the first time. Click to enlarge the wonderful pictures below:

This is the same sand that lines our coasts and fills our childhood sandboxes. We feel its warmth between our toes, and shake it free from our shoes. The stuff of play and comfort, most often seen in utilitarian terms. In these photos, we imagine sand in a completely different way, magnified so that we can see the spirit of each grain. As unique as a snowflake.

I doubt I will ever look at sand the same again…

Learn more about the formation of sand and the source of these images,
taken by Gary Greenberg, PhD.

This month I had the good fortune to engage with leaders in sustainability from around the country with the Center for Whole Communities at Knoll Farm, located above the Mad River Valley in Vermont. Over the course of a week, under the leadership of facilitators Kaylynn Sullivan TwoTrees, Matt Kolan, and Carolyn Finney, we visioned sustainability and collaboration in our work to inspire social change.

As a land-based leadership development organization, the Center for Whole Communities brings together leaders of different race, class, profession and ideology to find shared purpose and renew their collective strength.

The fellowship is designed to innovative and invite responses from different sectors of the environmental and social movements to address the complexity of today’s challenges, such as the fragmentation that exists in American society around politics, race, class and privilege.

I remain grateful for a gift I am still unpacking that has already infused my work with greater clarity and inspiration.

Thank you Center for Whole Communities for such a rich and powerful experience.

Here is a slideshow that captures some of  the beauty and magic of Knoll Farm:

All the time I hear reasons why African-Americans do not engage with the outdoors. From experience, I know it’s not just because of the bugs, or a rustic engagement with nature that can signal a lack of modern-day progress, but sometimes because of the people they may encounter along the way. In some circles, whispers still remain of “strange fruit,” or a fear that bad things happen to black people in the woods.

Many have seen the satire of Blair Underwood, stymied over and over again by the way those he encountered responded dramatically to his unassuming hike in nature. For many black people who find ourselves on a back-country trail as the only person of color for miles around, each Underwood scene, no matter how humorously staged, rings true, and exemplifies the psychological barriers we must push through in order to simply enjoy nature: the nervous or inquisitive stares, questions about what we are doing, or the overly enthusiastic embrace that can leave us feeling like a rare, identified species discovered in the wild.

So I partnered with an organization I respect tremendously to bring youth and their families by bus from the local community to come out for a day of play in nature. Leading up to the event, we deliberately reached out to families who live in poorer communities within a city (like many) divided geographically and socially by class, with many never venturing beyond the ten-square blocks of their own neighborhood, much less into the remote wild that looms perilously in the skyline. In the weeks before the event, we personally invited people at local community meetings, and early-childhood development centers. We obtained the blessing of city park and recreation leadership and also made promotional materials available in a few languages. Our efforts left us feeling hopeful that the event would reflect the true diversity of the community not commonly seen in local nature.

What began as a diverse group of families exploring nature, many for the first time, was quickly shaken-up by the presence of a nearby and vocal resident, who demanded to know: “What is going on here?”

The concerned resident was visibly upset, struggling to string together words to name her distress. She mentioned that the event came to her attention because she found herself in her car, stuck behind a slowly climbing bus on her way home. She decided to follow it to see where the diesel carrier might go, what it might contain.

She followed the passengers off the bus into the public park, and along the trail leading to the narrow, curved strip of land where the event was staged. There, she found a temporary play space in an impacted clearing, with imported natural materials such as dried bamboo, palm fronds, mounds of dirt, rocks, native plant clippings, and plenty of wet mud. While surveying the new park visitors, she expressed concern about the presence of so many “non-native” species, and said she was troubled by the threat to the local ecology.

Feeling responsible, I stepped in to try to engage her in a discussion about how people can engage with nature in a variety of ways. I tried to discuss cultural relevancy and how the event was a safe, rare invitation for families to discover and begin to build a relationship with the wild spaces right in their home town. I tried to explain how the material would be removed once the play event was over. But as we talked, I saw she was not satisfied with my answers, and became more agitated and resolute. With a sinking feeling, I could see my expressed passion for connecting this community of black and brown folks to the outdoors was very misunderstood.

Without satisfaction from our conversation, the resident said that she needed to speak to someone else because I had an “attitude,” and therefore decided she was going to contact the City Council as well as a national environmental organization to protest the event. Feeling deflated, yet still hopeful for resolution, I led her to my co-organizers and colleagues (all white) who helped to reassure her of the merits of the event and clean-up plans. And I listened nearby with humility, as they were also obliged to vouch for my character.

My own feelings aside, I was actually more worried about who might be overhearing this passionate exchange, and how they might react; Would they feel unwelcomed? Would they ever return to nature again?

The resident was eventually able to calm, and I decided to get present to the gifts all around me. I observed my own giddy kids from afar building forts and fairy houses, the pride of families creating in nature for the first time, many muddy fingers and toes, and relaxed parents (relieved from always having to say “no” to play in their own neighborhoods) finally safe to say “yes.”

Yet it was heartbreaking that the concerned resident could not see past those magic moments and into the future of these youth and their families to become the conservationists our lands and their health so desperately need. She could not see that the seeds of love for self and the planet evolve from connectedness and relationship between land and people, most often through unstructured discovery and play – and that there were no invasive species that day after all.

Here are three short videos that share some of the beauty in nature experienced by all that day: