Farewell to a good birding friend

My friend Andy was one of the first birders I got to know when I began birding regularly about 6 years ago. I’m saddened to report that Andy died on June 6 at age 90.

Andy was a regular presence at Colonial Lake and at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, where we most often encountered one another.

It was Andy who kindly pointed out the pied-billed grebe that was floating on Colonial Lake one day, a “lifer” I might otherwise have missed. It was the first of many kindnesses he showed me.

Our friendship started with a few friendly greetings-in-passing, and at some point not long after we began walking sections of the trails together. Many times we were joined by Jim Parris, who’s recorded more bird species at the Pole Farm than anyone else. Andy and I often joked that following Jim was the best way to spot birds, because they always seemed to find him, not the other way around.

During migration seasons, Andy, Jim and I often spent up to half an hour scouring the wall of trees by the old AT&T Building One arches. We spotted many a warbler there and snapped them happily with our cameras.

Andy had a long zoom lens on his Nikon and upgraded to a 700mm prime lens a couple of years back. The shot topping this post from July 2023 shows Andy aiming that 700 mm monster at a Dickcissel that hung out at the parking lot on the Reed Bryan Farm side of Mercer Meadows

Whichever lens he used, Andy took stunning images, capturing birds in flight or amid colorful floral backdrops. We often viewed each other’s shots on the displays on the backs of our cameras.

We staked out short-eared owls and Northern harriers. One of his best finds was a scarlet tanager nest on a wooded Pole Farm trail. He showed it to me one morning as the female poked her head out of the nest. Moments later, the male landed a few feet away from us on the trail. It took our breath away.

We shared many moments like that.

I should mention that Andy was in his mid-80s when we met, which made all the more remarkable his ability to lug a heavy camera rig on long walks in the woods and fields. I told him at least a few times that, at two decades younger than he was, I hoped to exhibit the same stamina in my upper years as he did.

Andy started slowing down maybe 18 months ago, limiting how far he’d head up the trail from the Pole Farm parking lot. He still managed to get great shots.

Andy had several grand-daughters, and he wore a different baseball cap Monday through Saturday, one for each of the colleges and graduate schools they attended. On Sundays, he often wore a cap from one of the many cruises he went on with his wife, who many times came to the Pole Farm with him and sat on a bench near the parking lot, patiently waiting for him to return.

Over the years, I picked up bits and pieces of Andy’s life, which brought him from his native China to Taiwan to the United States in the early 1960s. An engineer with a doctorate, he settled in New Jersey and worked for several major companies. His obituary has details.

I’m glad Andy found his way to the United States, and that we found each other.

Rest in peace, my good friend. 🦅