Some history, with descriptions of the content of a unique correspondence
This remarkable collaboration had its origins in a roadside meeting in Harvard, Massachusetts, in August of 1988… a roadside encounter, some brief conversation, a meeting of the eyes and minds, an exchange of addresses, and a unique dialogue of thirty four years and ongoing between a scientist-naturalist and a naturalist- scientist was initiated.
Among the contacts I made with career herpetologists working with the turtle species I would be writing about in YEAR OF THE TURTLE was Dr. Terry Graham, Professor of Biology at Worcester State College in Massachusetts.
He was continuing to conduct research with a focus on spotted and Blanding’s turtles. In the course of a telephone conversation I had with him I mentioned that I had not been able to find a Blanding’s turtle in the Digs that I could use as a subject for drawings.
[They are few and far between in the vast wetland mosaic of the Digs and its connecting waterways – my encounters with them are essentially fortuitous.]
Terry told me that he had one in his lab that I could borrow for a short period of time. I asked him if he knew where I might be able to obtain map and
soft shelled turtles for art purposes. I intended to include them in my overall coverage of some species that are native to New England, but not found within my range.
Both of these species are limited to northwesternVermont.
It so happened that he had one of each of these as well. They became subjects of pencil and watercolor studies in my swamp sketchbook and eventual illustrations in my books.
Accompanied by my artist wife Laurette, I drove to a meeting place at the Oxbow National Wildlife Reserve, where Terry was continuing his field work with a fairly sizable population of Blandings turtles
He was accompanied by one of his grad students, who was engaged in a thesis study for his Master’s degree on the ecology of these turtles. Due to time constraints I was engaged in conversation with Terry almost exclusively.
But I was keenly drawn to his student, Brian Butler. Analogous perceptions and perspectives, intuitions, the tenor of his own field work… I’m not sure what it all was, came through in the brief moments we shared in discussing his work with Blanding’s turtles.
When it came time to part he asked me if he could have my address. I was eager to have his, and thereby the prospect of further communication. We could not foresee the
correspondence, dynamic and of great duration, that was to evolve from this chance connection.
A collection of Brian’s post cards and my copies of postcards to him.
The first letter from Brian in my archive is dated the twenty-ninth of December, 1990. What I find in an overview of his earliest letters from 1991 clearly indicates that a correspondence had been going on, and it is certain that we took up our written communication soon after that roadside meeting.
The first of what was to become the sole vehicle of the dialog between us, the blank, stamped postcards available from the U.S. Postal Service, is dated the twenty third of January, 1992. (I regret that the card stock has become increasingly flimsy over the years.)
There are 24 of these in my collection from 1992. I have to assume that by then I was writing to him in the same format. There are 45 in my 1993 folder, along with several letters.
In January of 1994 I began to make copies of every postcard I sent to Brian. With these to accompany his communiques to me, a complete record of the Swamp Dialogs was established.
The earlier letters and postcards from Brian that I saved predates my making copies of my post cards by three years. Although Brian’s professional correspondence, truly massive field data and reports, et. al. are conveyed via emails, and much of my own voluminous written communication has shifted to this modern technology, we have adhered entirely to using the postcards in our own exchange.
I have no recollection of how this began, or which one of us initiated the practice, nor do I recall us making any covenant to keep it so. There are emails in rare matters of urgency, as when Brian advises me when his traditional December holiday gift of a cooler filled with ice packs and three dozen or more oysters are due to arrive via overnight delivery.
He is a devoted harvester of the sea’s edible biodiversity.
Other than that, there well may be none, and rarely more than two or three, emails in any given year.
One of my drawing/writing boards with postcards and Digs notebooks.
The constant thread of the conversation is an exchange of what we are seeing in the field, our various areas of investigation – records of observations and reflections on them. In short, reports from the field, written from the very personal-experience perspectives of two distinct but very closely in-synch individuals and their approaches.
As noted above, Brian’s research is more scientifically oriented than mine, by nature and by profession. But it comes from a lifelong grounding as a naturalist, and an ecological ethic with an acute ecosystem awareness.
This carries with it a shared prevailing deep concern regarding declines in species and the ever expanding negative impacts of human activities on habitats, leading to their alteration, fragmentation, marginalization, and outright loss. We are both long-time witnesses to the reality and magnitude of the steady diminution and disappearance that continues to the present, intensifying rather than abating.
This brings with it a shared sense of profound loss. There is a long history here, and there are many accounts of our separate efforts, battles, to prevent the loss of natural landscapes in our communications.
Brian’s reportage starts out with his thesis study, the exceptional research he carried out with Blanding’s turtles and every aspect of their natural history, a study ongoing, over three decades later. It remains central to his vastly expanded range of habitats and species, from his earlier work for various wildlife agencies to his own Oxbow Wetlands Associates initiative.
There are parallels, along with comparisons and contrasts, in this significant long-term study of a species in the same ecosystem and my notebook years in the Digs, both of which continue.
In terms of succeeding in protecting endangered to at-risk species and the habitats without which they are destined to face extirpations, there are overwhelming differences between what Brian has been able to achieve and what I have been able to effect.
Together with his staff of four exceptional biologists and botanists at Oxbow he has been able to work with the Massachusetts Natural Heritage program and the state’s
Endangered Species Act and their rigidly enforced regulations.
This has him engaged with field work ranging far beyond turtles: toads and salamanders; timber rattlesnakes; copperheads; and blacksnakes; fairy shrimp and other invertebrates; moths; plants; and habitats such as vernal pools – a naturalist’s encyclopedia. And his knowledge is encyclopedic.
If projects are to be enabled and their proposed acreage has present, or might have present, state listed species, surveys must be conducted. Habitat requirements are then assessed and designs must be set in place that would not only prevent impacts certain to threaten their persistence, but actually enhance the prospects of the given species’ persistence.
I know of no other state that has such a dedicated conservation/true-protection initiative.
My endeavors in New Hampshire have no such regulatory backing, and I cannot see that any true policy of protecting species and habitats will ever come to pass here.
This duality is an omnipresent theme in our discussions. Brian never has the intent of sabotaging a project, but together with his staff works with
the highest scientific standards in making evaluations and recommendations to insure the persistence of species in question.
This involves virtually endless consummately detailed, scientifically sound field work; plans addressing habitat requisites; meetings with agencies and developers; legal testimony in inevitable cases of dispute et. al.
Among other things, Brian has established recovery plans for Blandings turtles, including nest protection to offset the high mortality rate commonly affecting turtle populations as a result of predation, in many cases by human-subsidized predators such as skunks and raccoons.
This program entails the release of a number of hatchlings at the nest site, and head-starting a percentage of them until they reach a size that puts them out of danger of the heavy toll taken on the juveniles by predators. This long-term initiative has led to records of head-started turtles living on to reach maturity, and nesting, which can take fourteen to twenty years.
Accounts of habitat restoration on a major scale are a key feature of his correspondence: in one case forty tons of boulders and other appropriate fill converting an abandoned quarry into critical habitat for the endangered timber rattlesnakes, copperheads, and black snakes.
Another project was the creation of nesting habitat for a marginalized, on-edge, population of Blandings turtles.
An endless streaming of insightful, personal-experience comment on biology and ecology, complications of working with environmental agencies and all manner of
development interests; and natural history in general, are interspersed throughout the humble vehicle of Brian’s post card reportage.
In looking back, I see that his unique narratives continue as they started out, always written in his seemingly offhand, spontaneous, and yet penetrating manner, intermingled with humor, surprising twists and ever- creative turns of expression.
I read each one to Laurette as it arrives, to her great appreciation and delight.
His statements are at once irreverent and concerned, unforced, natural, and substantive. Always ironic and existential in his quickly paced commentary, (we are well matched here) he is constant in applying his supremely dedicated, detailed research and uncompromising science to the persistence of species on the edge of extirpation.
My half of the dialogs in good measure amplify and enhance material to be found in my Digs notebooks, as I work to move conservation agencies, land trusts, state government, et. al. to provide real habitat protection, and in essence go beyond conservation to preservation.
As mentioned above, there are sharp contrasts with the scenario from which Brian and his Oxbow team operates. Detailed accounts of my efforts in these arenas are to be found in the separate body of reports, notes for meetings, and from my many talks and seminars… literally numbered into the hundreds, likely over a thousand.
There is a separate body of material elucidating this history in my core archive, as noted in my inventory.
This body of correspondence, spanning three decades of observations and discoveries, along with with discussions of natural history and biological science and a strong footing in field work, stands as a compendium that would be of research value to students and others in a wide range of age and interests.
The content would serve both those with personal, professional, and academic backgrounds in natural history and environmental science.
It is a book of many “pages” (to my mind, they would make a great book) – many days over many seasons that in essence could serve as a text – not lacking in fascination – and as a reference, and an enhancing source for individual and/or classroom agendas. There are applications to be found throughout the exchange for pursuits on many levels in the fields of natural history and ecological-environmental studies, as well as conservation, land trust, and preservation initiatives.
Our rather minute handwriting, often written in haste, has evolved over the years to scripts not always immediately readable. But they are definitely decipherable. I am ever amazed that Brian finds the time to write to me. (My postmaster once joked that I managed to put so much writing on a post card that he would have to charge extra postage.)
As with all components of my core archive, I welcome the opportunity to discuss this extensive significant literary content further with principals considering an archival purchase. I could also provide some copies.
My Five Published Books
Trout Reflections
Following the Water
Year of the Turtle
Self-Portrait With Turtles, A Memoir
Swampwalker’s Journal
Hand Bound Books
A Book of a Number of Hours
A Book of Winter Buds
A Book of Winter Branches
Borradores
Landscapes – January 20, 1978 – April 1978
Variations: February 1, 1967 – August 1, 1968
Visions: Drawings and Paintings: 1976 – 1988
Exhibitions
“Seldom Seen” Exhibition at the Davidow Center
“Beyond Words” Exhibition at the Currier Museum
Galleries
“Seldom Seen” Gallery
David’s Wildlife Studies Sketchbook
Virtual Gallery of Art Produced for My Five Books
“Regarding Women Regarding…” Introduction
Sketchbook Gallery: 4/1/1985 – 10/14/1987
Swamp Sketchbook
The Swamp Dialogs
Drawings and Watercolors Produced to Illustrate my Published Books
CODIT – Compartmentalization of Decay in Trees