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An Osprey catching a fish is what aroused
Bert Raynes curiosity in bird watching.
Meg grew up in a small town, knowing farm life and open spaces. I grew up in a highly urbanized setting, innocent of mother nature. A perfect match.
Meg introduced me to the outdoors. She learned to cope with urban living. From the first place we lived and worked, we could get to Adirondack State Park in upstate New York and we went camping with colleagues at work. It was the first time we were with people who would identify birds by their voices before they got out of their sleeping bags. Noted, but not further pursued. We became wet fly fishermen; Meg tied flies. We got a little piece of land on a large creek and built a fishing cabin. No power. Dug a well, dug a two holer.
Then came the osprey. I was oblivious to it, intent on deer watching. The osprey was indifferent to me, concentrating on a big fish below it, and simply did its thing. Great splash of water, reaching me in fact, bird struggling to rise with this big bass. A fish one envied (for its size, that is).
Curiosity finally aroused. To the Public Library, a conditioned response. Found a Roger Tory Peterson’s bird field guide. Found osprey. Then, great blue herons. And, a bittern. All big birds.
Then, asking about those birdsongs, those little birds folks exclaimed over, and—downhill from there. We became birdwatchers. Meg was far better at it, but not possessed. I got into it. Each to her own. A college professor had already made me into a preservationist, a conservationist. Meg and I have been called lots of names since those days, but having thought deeply about environmental issues and the future of humanity, call us environmentalists or tree-huggers as you will. We sure are.
We were active in environmental causes, particularly water pollution ones. Ultimately I worked in that cause. We performed boots-on-the-ground restoration of habitats until we no longer could, still adding our voices in similar causes. At that time, Meg and I began to consider what we might be able to do, if anything, past our time.
I can't say these discussions were organized, particularly early on. We have no children, one consideration. We have no large tract of land. The more we talked, the more the ideas of helping worthwhile small projects to help Jackson Hole wildlife. We had observed that often some useful restoration work or project initiation would be delayed or lost for the want of public knowledge or of a small financial assist. We looked for some way we could pass that down.
This was all just conversation between us until Meg died. Turning to our many wonderful friends for advice and counsel, the idea of establishing a sustainable fund to help or initiate projects concerned primarily with the wildlife of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Should have done that sooner. Things progressed, as they can when folks participate freely and intelligently, and so the Meg and Bert Raynes Wildlife Fund was created. I believe Meg would be pleased and satisfied.
That's all history. What matters now is what the Fund shall achieve.
Bert Raynes
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