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IVORY-BILLS  LiVE???!  ...

=> THE blog devoted to news and commentary on the most iconic bird in American ornithology, the Ivory-billed Woodpecker (IBWO)... and... sometimes other schtuff.
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"....The truth is out there."

-- Dr. Jerome Jackson, 2002 (... & Agent Fox Mulder)

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

-- Hamlet

"All truth passes through 3 stages: First it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as self-evident."

-- Arthur Schopenhauer






Sunday, August 27, 2017

 

-- Very Sad News… Bill Pulliam passes --

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One of the more intrepid participants in the Ivory-bill debate (and more generally, a very active-and-respected Tennessee birder) has passed on at the too-youngish age of 56. For those who followed the IBWO debate closely early-on, Bill is probably well-known, though in recent years he was more quiet about the subject. I never met Bill, but in those earlier years some of my most interesting (and enjoyable) backchannel encounters were with him… we didn’t agree on everything, but we agreed on a lot and I hope he respected my opinions as much as I respected his.

More recently, he had tweeted about suffering through a tic-borne illness, but apparently that turned out to be an aggressive, undiagnosed form of lung cancer that he succumbed to a few days ago. A tremendous loss of an intelligent, independent, entertaining cuss, if I dare say so!

I always wished that he had pursued more searches of the Ivory-bill in western Tennessee, following up on some claims, but if he did he never reported it back to me. At one point he indicated IF the bird was there it ought just be left alone.

When Bill's father died a few years back I sent him this well-known poem I've always enjoyed and sent to many over the years upon such occasions. I feel odd using it again, so soon, but in his honor, and for his loved ones, I will: 

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die. 

-- Mary Elizabeth Frye

ADDENDUM:
eBird, where Bill was very active as a regional editor and more, has posted this memorial:
http://ebird.org/content/ebird/news/bill-pulliam/

...and now Mark Michaels has penned some further tribute here:
https://projectcoyoteibwo.com/2017/09/14/go-read-bill-pulliams-blog-while-you-can/
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