Mice in the Freezer, Owls on the Porch: The Lives of Naturalists Frederick and Francis Hamerstrom

15 Of Hawks, Humans, and Freedom

Hammy and Fran sometimes had to choose between their responsibilities to their jobs, which Hammy could not countenance, and the demands of their current enthusiasms and interests. Their semi-official activities in support of prairie chicken–directed organizations—the Society, the Prairie Chicken Foundation, and the Prairie Grouse Technical Council—brought them obligations as well as long-term friendships . But their wishes to play a significant part in such groups as the Raptor Research Foundation Board, the North America Falconry Association , and the Wisconsin Society of Ornithologists could only be satisfied by submitting to constant pressure and frustration.1 Then there was his editing. “No one,” maintained Fran, “ever realized how much time and effort Hammy put in to improving other people’s papers.” Ruth Hine testified that he edited departmental material from the very beginning. “He was orderly, disciplined, and persistent,” she declared. “Working with him was an intellectual and emotional challenge. Sensitivity was required. I always looked forward to his written or telephoned query: ‘Isn’t it time for a story conference?’”2 Former gabboon Joe Schmutz, now an academic in Canada, watched Hammy spend hours on other people’s papers. “His credo, of publishing only when satisfied that the material is of top quality and scrupulously edited, required his prompt, pungent comment and To band a bird is to hold a ticket in a great lottery. —Aldo Leopold 227 15 Of Hawks, Humans, and Freedom useful suggestions. He never sat on manuscripts for months.” Joe’s wife Sheila added a knowing restatement of the “publish or perish” formula: “Such attitudes may put those he trained at a disadvantage in the current university climate of publish and publish.” “When you did a paper,” said former gabboon Mark Kopeny, “you had to do it right. I wrote half of my Ph.D. thesis up here—on the porch, or in the cool fruit cellar. He was always encouraging and delicate in review. How we waited for—and valued—that nod of assent!” Hammy even carried papers for review or editing with him on vacations . His letter to an author from their campsite in Manitoba where they were trapping hawks (their regular fall study vacation for several years after 1964) included sincere compliments, an apt diagnosis, and a warning that his comments might be impolite. “Data, based on only five days of observation, is thin.” Pointed suggestions followed: “Why not use a little showmanship instead of presenting it deadpan? . . . your readers can’t be expected to know that this is red hot.” Build from observation to generalization, he advised, and try for clear language: “You’d do your critics (and your final readers) a favor if you could recast the writing into a simpler and more direct style. I realize that you have been indoctrinated (the field marks are unmistakable) and should not be criticized for it, but if you have something worthwhile to say, good English won’t hurt it and if you haven’t, pseudo-scientific lingo won’t help it.” A final face-saving disclaimer softened the critique: “Do by all means try this out on somebody else.”3 The growing nationwide interest in raptors brought a continuing flood of papers to his mailbox.4 He refereed papers for the Auk, the Journal of Wildlife Management, The Wilson Bulletin, and numerous proceedings while continuing to write papers and edit Fran’s books. Comparing their bibliographies is useful. Hammy’s is straightforward , entirely professional. He and Paul Errington authored a paper in the first issue of the Journal of Wildlife Management, and from 1934 on (sometimes as junior author) he published one or two papers a year until 1938. A steady flow of technical papers on various subjects ensued , until the 1960s when his production slowed. His early, classic papers were well known, and he published scientific works as late as 1986.5 A colleague estimated that Hammy had over eighty publications , plus a number of reviews.6 Mice in the Freezer, Owls on the Porch 228 Fran, on the other hand, listed over 150 publications of every kind in her bibliography; titles vary from: “Time to Cook Grouse” and “Dead Trees Are Part of Our World” to “A Morphological Comparison of Two Harrier Populations.” She classified forty-one as technical, forty-two as popular, and listed ten books and considerable miscellany —reviews, committee reports, and the like. By her count, seventyfour publications dealt with birds...