Bicknell's Thrush in New Hampshire

The lure of finding a Bicknell's Thrush –– a rare summer denizen of high elevations in New England and southeasternmost Canada –– pulled me away from the heat of southern Arizona last month. (The cool mists of northern New Hampshire might have had something to do with it, too!)

Alan and I set out on an eventful drive through Tornado Alley, which results in our seeking refuge in a truck stop's reinforced shower area with perhaps 100 other refugees from the raging tornados. Truckers study the tornado apps on their cell phones while the winds howl.

Resuming our drive, we eventually land in Philadelphia at Bartram's Gardens, where I bequeath my painting of Bartram's Painted Vulture to the museum's permanent collection. Our friend Jim Shiflett joins us here, and curator Joel Fry gives the three of us a wonderfully fun tour of the famous botanical garden. (You can read more about William Bartram and see the painting in my post from March 20, 2013.)

But enough city! In my mind I can hear the haunting flute-song of a Bicknell's Thrush, shimmering over the krummholz. Krummholz is the stunted, bent forest often found at timberline, where exposure to fierce winds prunes the trees. These Black Spruce and Balsam Firs of New Hampshire's northwoods survive at timberline where they have sheltering rocks and enough snow cover. They form a dense tangle of twisted, short trees at timberline, which –– along with the taller bordering forest that grows slightly lower on the mountain –– is just this thrush's cup of tea... Labrador tea!

Krummholz on Mt Washington, New Hampshire (Photos by Narca)

Perhaps the harsh conditions contribute to the thrush's unusual breeding system: a single female will mate with as many as four males, all of whom help to feed the nestlings. It may take that many adults to optimize the chances of raising a clutch of chicks in this challenging environment!

Hmmm

Mt Washington wreathed in cloud

We have chosen Mt Washington in New Hampshire, with its private, good road to the top, as our destination for searching for the thrush. Rain threatens, and the mountain is crowned in cloud, as we make our way to timberline. A pullout allows for parking, and we walk back down through the krummholz and into the taller forest next to it. Very soon we hear the thrush's melody, and Jim spots our singer at the tip of a nearby spruce. Jubilation!

Bicknell's Thrush is a cryptic species, originally lumped with the more widespread Gray-cheeked Thrush. Studies show them to be a species in their own right. It is not only rare but secretive, and we are very lucky to have such a fine look, even though the early light doesn't allow for good photos. Here's the best I can do: guess you'll have to trust me with this one.

Yes, it really IS a Bicknell's Thrush!

Mt Washington is home to a host of other northern birds, like Yellow-bellied Flycatchers, Boreal Chickadees, and Blackpoll Warblers, and we thoroughly enjoy our morning. Even a Black Bear is romping through the ferns –– a mammal I didn't expect to see in New England!

A chewed-on Black Bear on Mt Washington, New Hampshire

Bartram's Painted Vulture

OK, I've been lax about posting! Painting can dominate everything––I even forget to eat. Here is a recent project, an acrylic painting of Bartram's Painted Vulture.

I hadn't heard of it either.

Bartram's Painted Vulture, a bird that formerly inhabited Florida

(Acrylic painting by Narca)

Noel Snyder investigated the mystery surrounding this vanished bird, and with Joel Fry, has published an on-line paper in the journal Zootaxa which proposes, at long last, the acceptance of this now-extinct species – or subspecies – into the roster of North American avifauna. (An excellent review of this paper was written by Rick Wright for the American Birding Association's blog.)

William Bartram was the first naturalist ever to visit Florida, about the time of the Revolutionary War. He left a detailed description of this spectacular bird, whose existence is not recognized by the American Ornithologists' Union, although several ornithologists have independently acknowledged it. Very similar to the King Vulture of the American tropics from Mexico south, the Painted Vulture was likely either a closely related species or a subspecies of King Vulture.

The bird apparently vanished shortly after Bartram's encounter with it, for it was never seen by Audubon or other early ornithologists who visited Florida.

William Bartram and his father John Bartram left an impressive legacy.  John was North America's first botanist, called "the greatest natural botanist in the world" by Linnaeus. John was named the Royal Botanist in America by King George III, and the Bartram homestead is considered to be the birthplace of American botany and the first botanical garden in the US. You can visit their home in Philadelphia, now the Bartram Garden and Museum. (I've not yet visited this National Historic Landmark and garden, but certainly hope to see it soon – perhaps as soon as this summer! The museum would like to have this painting of Bartram's Painted Vulture in its permanent collection, and that strikes me as its perfect home.)

The Bartrams knew Benjamin Franklin and named a tree after their statesman friend––Franklinia alatamatha. The tree is feared to be extinct in the wild but still survives in cultivation, descended from the original plants collected by the Bartrams.

William carried on his father's natural history endeavors, traveling for several years through the eight southern colonies, observing the flora and fauna, and executing exquisite drawings. He built a reputation as an adept and perceptive observer of nature. Thomas Jefferson asked Bartram to accompany Lewis and Clark on their exploration of Louisiana Territory, but his health didn't permit it.

Today the Bartram Trail follows William's footsteps through North and South Carolina and Georgia. In Alabama, the Bartram Canoe Trail meanders along waterways in the Mobile-Tensaw River Delta.

William's travels through a truly wild America and his interest in the Native peoples he met are detailed in a marvelous book. If reading the firsthand accounts of early explorers appeals to you, track down the Travels of William Bartram, edited by Mark Van Doren. What a treasure! I also plan to track down another: Judith Magee's 2007 volume, Art and Science of William Bartram, for the pleasure of seeing more of his marvelous botanical illustrations.