A Love Affair with Birds: The Life of Thomas Sadler Roberts

Chapter 3: The Young Naturalists' Society

27 • Chapter 3 The Young Naturalists’ Society “Why do you study birds?” “Because they are interesting and beautiful and because we enjoy it and we think that should be answer enough.” —answer from a young birder in The Birds of Minnesota, 1: 99 On a Friday evening in March 1875, seven earnest teens gathered in a home on the outskirts of Minneapolis. A bitterly cold winter was losing its grip after months of subzero temperatures, and tufts of prairie grass could be seen protruding from the crusted snow. Most of the boys lived in this neighborhood of two-storied frame houses that lay just west of the business district of First Avenue North, Hennepin Avenue, and Nicollet Avenue. Atleasttwowouldwalkhomeinthechillyblacknesslaterthatnighttofarms farther out of town. The boys had recently formed a club, the Young Naturalists’ Society, whosepurposewastosupportthepursuitofnaturalhistory.Suchclubswere not unusual “back East,” where the study of nature was a long-established pastime ofeducatedmen.InMinneapolis,anisolatedbutburgeoningcityof thirty-two thousand on the edge of what was termed the “Great Northwest,” such groups were uncommon. The Minnesota Academy of Natural Sciences had been established only two years before in St. Paul. Perhaps the idea of an “academy” of their own came from this newly formed gathering of the scientifically inclined. Followingtheformalityofthelike-mindedacademies,PresidentThomas Roberts called the society to order, Secretary Clarence Herrick read the minutes to the previous meeting, and Treasurer Frank Clough reported on the society’s finances. These procedural duties dispatched, the group settled into the meeting’s heart: a discussion on Minnesota’s natural world. Their The Young Naturalists’ Society 28 faces bathed in the rosy gaslight, various members offered reports individually researchedduringthepasttwoweeks.FrankCloughenlightenedthesociety and fellow classmates on deer. Rob Williams offered a paper on snakes, and Thomas Roberts reported on “our winter birds,” many of which he had been scrutinizing for the past four months. Thomas prefaced his essay by cautioning the society that his knowledge on the subject was, as yet, “very slight, only the observation of one or two winters,” so he could say “but little” on his own authority.1 He himself had seen only twelve species in the winter, the most common of which he thought were the White-breasted Nuthatch and the Blue Jay. Drawing on a listof Minnesota birds published the year before by Philo Hatch, Minnesota state ornithologist, in the Bulletin of the Minnesota Academy of Natural Sciences , Thomas reviewed Minnesota’s avian residents. He had seen only one of the four owls on Hatch’s list—a Snowy. He knew two of the three woodpeckers —the Downy and the Hairy, birds “we are all doubtless acquainted with.” He had seen a Bohemian Chatterer and a stunning black and yellow Evening Grosbeak “in Mr. Howling’s curiosity shop, but never alive to my knowledge,” and he had seen crossbills only as specimens in the Minneapolis Athenaeum.2 One winter bird Thomas had seen frequently in the past month was the lovely Pine Grosbeak. Large flocks of the uncommon migrant from the high Arctic had wandered into the vicinity of Minneapolis that winter. At Lake Calhoun in late February, where the Pond brothers had built their Indian Mission School in 1834, he had encountered some feeding on sumac berries. The flock of about twenty contained mostly birds in the gray and ochre coloration of winter, with one old male feathered a brilliant red. They communicated among themselves in soft calls. Thomas was captivated both by the birds’ tame and peaceful manner and by the artistry of the setting. Nevertheless , he had killed two to take as specimens for his collection.3 Speaking at the meeting, Thomas methodically worked his way through Hatch’s list. Since one of the aims of the Young Naturalists’ Society (or YNS, as it was later referred to) was to encourage original observation, Thomas discussed what he knew about the topic, giving it his best shot. After additional business, the meeting adjourned, and discussion could move on to other topics. Perhaps Frank Clough informed the boys about the new structure being planned to replace the rickety suspension bridge The Young Naturalists’ Society 29 over the Mississippi River that had been built in 1850. The span was the allimportant link between Hennepin Avenue on the west side of the river and Nicollet Island, and the flour mills in St. Anthony on the east bank. His father, as city engineer, was privy to high-level talks about the structure.4 No...