Latest news with #NormanSmith
Yahoo
4 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
Retiree earns inspiring nickname after rescuing hundreds of owls from airport: 'They might be hiding or ... sleeping'
Since 1981, Norman Smith has rescued more than 900 snowy owls from Boston Logan International Airport, The Washington Post reported. The 73-year-old "Owl Man of Logan Airport" worked at Mass Audubon for nearly 60 years and continues to catch and release southbound snowy owls from the airport's runways. The retiree's involvement at Mass Audubon began when he was a teenager, the Post said. Most recently, he served as the director of the organization's Blue Hills Trailside Museum. He remains an expert on snowy owls, having made discoveries about the species through both his work at Mass Audubon and the airport. Logan Airport hosts the largest concentration of snowy owls in the Northeast, according to Mass Audubon. The birds migrate south from the Arctic when winter approaches, the Post explained, choosing the airport as their temporary home because of its resemblance to the barren Arctic tundra and abundance of food. However, snowy owls pose risks to planes, passengers, and themselves. Collisions between birds and airplanes can hurt everyone involved, and Logan Airport recorded the deadliest bird-related airplane accident in 1960 when a flight crashed because of a flock of starlings, killing all but 10 people on board. While policies to shoot birds at airports arose from accidents like this, Smith responded with a different strategy. He reached out to Logan Airport in 1981 and asked to humanely trap the snowy owls there, studying the birds before relocating them. For the past 44 years, Smith has rescued about 10 to 15 owls a year, according to the Post. He attaches transmitters to some of the owls as part of the Snowy Owl Project, allowing him and his team to learn more about the birds' locations and migration routes. His work also landed him in a documentary. "They might be just sitting there, they might be hiding, or they might be sleeping," Smith said about the owls. "They could be out on the salt marsh, roosting or feeding on a duck or a rabbit." Snowy owl populations are decreasing because of warmer temperatures, which cause habitat and prey loss, and Partners in Flight listed the species on its Yellow Watch List. Smith aims to protect the species by educating others about it and promoting care "for this world in which we live," Mass Audubon stated. Should the government be paying people to hunt invasive species? Definitely Depends on the animal No way Just let people do it for free Click your choice to see results and speak your mind. Join our free newsletter for good news and useful tips, and don't miss this cool list of easy ways to help yourself while helping the planet.
ABC News
21-05-2025
- General
- ABC News
WA jarrah axemen led back-breaking life as native forest logging peaked
The grim, back-breaking work of Western Australia's pioneering logging families should not be forgotten, according to historians, who say their contribution to the construction, railway and shipbuilding industries was vital. Under often treacherous conditions, loggers climbed and then felled giant jarrah trees, which were prized for their hardy timber. The trees, which can grow to 40 meters high and live for 1,000 years, became known as "Swan River mahogany" to European colonisers in the 1800s, however the species is known as djarraly in the Noongar language. It is almost 18 months since native timber logging was banned in the state, bringing an end to 200 years of forest harvesting. But historian Don Briggs said the stories of the early workers and their families should not be forgotten just because logging in native forests has been banned. During its peak, logging in the only area of Australia where jarrah grows naturally — the south west of WA — saw axemen working under terrible conditions. The pay, particularly for southern European migrants, was so low there were reports of some severing their own fingers for workers' compensation and income. This grizzly chapter of WA's history has been archived with interviews and records. But not all woodsmen were treated harshly. One such logger, Norman Smith, travelled west from Victoria at the turn of the 20th century to earn his way in WA's burgeoning native timber industry. In an archival interview recorded in 1971 and provided to the ABC, Mr Smith, who is now deceased, recalled his life as an axeman when the pay was clearly more agreeable. He said he was paid in gold pieces, known as sovereigns. "We considered we weren't doing much good unless we made 50 pounds a month," Mr Smith said. Fifty pounds from the early 1900s equates to about $10,000 today. Historian Mr Briggs has spent years researching and writing the history of the South West's native timber industry. "It goes right back to the 1830s, when the first ships arrived. One of the ships was Captain James Stirling's boat, the HMS Success," he said. The HMS Success crashed into Carnac Island, but the crew managed to throw enough weight overboard to float the ship to Garden Island, where it was repaired. "The timber used was called Swan River mahogany, which later became known as jarrah," Mr Briggs said. When the HMS Success returned to England with no sign of marine borer damage in the jarrah repairs, WA's timber export industry boomed as demand for jarrah wood soared. Jarrah wasn't just prized by shipbuilders — it was also used in the construction of railway networks throughout Western Australia, thanks to its natural resistance to termites. Initially, railway sleepers, especially in the Great Southern region, were made from timber harvested in the karri forests near Torbay, about 20 kilometres west of Albany. Mr Briggs said once the construction workers realised that the karri wood was often riddled with white ants, they set their sights on harvesting the jarrah forests. In the early 1900s, thousands of men made their way to jarrah country to work on the railways. While men, including Mr Smith, toiled on the forest floor, where they cut railway sleepers by hand, others risked life and limb climbing the giant trees to make fire-lookout towers, such as the iconic Gloucester Tree at Pemberton, 320km south of Perth. Mr Smith said the men would ascend the trees on precarious spikes driven into the wood. "They drove one in, say up three feet, and then the other one would be up a couple of feet … and they kept driving these spikes in and they climbed up them," he said. But it was risky work, and not everyone was keen to climb 40 metres up a tree trunk. Waves of European migrants eventually flocked to WA's southern forests for work from the 1920s to the 1970s. Christina Gillgren has detailed migrants' stories in the book Growing Roots — the Italians and Croatians in the Development of the Western Australian Timber Industry. "These early settlers came and did a lot of the clearing of the land, especially on private property," Dr Gillgren said. Dr Gillgren, who has a doctorate in philosophy from Murdoch University, said casual migrant workers in the native timber industry went to great lengths to maintain their income. "Especially when they didn't get paid, they would resort to very extreme acts to get some income. Sometimes they would cut off fingers and toes," she said. Dr Gillgren said a severed finger or toe would be enough for a workers' compensation claim from the timber mills. "It was very grim," she said. Life for the workers' spouses and children was also unforgiving, according to Dr Gillgren. One example was the life of an Australian woman called Elsie, who married a Croatian hewer. "She ended up having 13 children. "Her husband would come home and tell her they had to shift camp. "She'd have to pack everything up — she'd probably only just finished washing the nappies."
IOL News
29-04-2025
- IOL News
The ‘owl man' is busy at Boston airport
Norman Smith with an Arctic Snowy Owl. Image: Supplied Andrea Sachs Every winter, Arctic snowy owls fly thousands of miles south to Boston Logan International Airport. And every season, Norman Smith drives less than an hour to try to snatch them up. 'I've seen a plane taxiing down the runway and the people looking out and seeing me with a bird,' said Smith, 73. 'They're like, 'What's that? What are you doing?'' Known as the 'owl man of Logan airport,' the raptor researcher has caught and released into the wild more than 900 snowy owls that decided Boston Logan was their Boca Raton. When the temperature begins to drop, the Arctic raptors, especially the juveniles, migrate to relatively warmer climates. Many choose the airport, home to the largest known concentration of snowy owls in New England. The East Boston site also sits along the Atlantic Flyway, a superhighway for migratory birds that stretches from Greenland to Florida. With the congested airspace and constant rumble of jets, the airport is hardly a tranquil bird sanctuary. But Smith said the terrain resembles the Arctic tundra. It's open, flat and barren, with water on three sides and plenty to eat, including waterfowl and small mammals. The airfield is also a dangerous place to alight. A collision between a plane and an owl can end badly for both types of fliers. 'The importance of Norm coming in is that he helps us take out a significant threat to aviation safety, which is a large, dense-bodied bird on the airfield,' said Jeff Turner, the airport facilities supervisor for the Massachusetts Port Authority. In 1981, Smith sent a letter to his home airport, asking whether he could study the visiting raptors. He offered to humanely trap the owls from October to spring, or whenever the last bird decided to return home. After checking their vitals, conducting a few tests and banding their legs, he would release them farther afield, such as from Cape Cod or the North Shore. 'If it was early in the season, you'd want to move them south of the airport, because the birds were generally heading south,' said Raymond MacDonald, a wildlife photographer who has been collaborating with Smith for 15 years. 'If you released them north of Logan, they might run into Logan again.' Smith started that fall and has not stopped. Several times a month, Smith will drive to Boston Logan, where he has a high security clearance. In the back of his truck, a bow trap rattles, and the live mice don't make a peep. (No animals, including the bait, are harmed in the process, he says.) He typically catches 10 to 15 snowy owls a year, plus several other birds of prey, such as short-eared owls, peregrine falcons, red-tailed hawks and harriers. He set a personal record in the 2013-2014 season, capturing 14 snowy owls in one day and 121 over the winter. In late March, it was 15. 'They might be just sitting there, they might be hiding or they might be sleeping,' Smith said of his targets. 'They could be out on the salt marsh, roosting or feeding on a duck or a rabbit. Obviously, those birds you're not going to catch, because the bird has to be hungry.' The Boston-area native, who started working at Mass Audubon as a teenager and recently retired as director of its Blue Hills Trailside Museum, is a preeminent authority on snowy owls. He was the subject of a recent award-winning short documentary film by local filmmaker Anna Miller, called 'The Snowy Owls of Logan Airport.' Through tagging, satellite telemetry and field work, he has made numerous discoveries about the species' life expectancy, vision, migratory routes and feeding habits. He was a pioneer in bird tracking, attaching transmitters to wintering snowy owls and determining that the animals successfully complete the 3,000-mile odyssey to the Arctic. But not all of them do. 'I was out there one time, and a snowy owl was sucked into a Learjet engine. It blew the engine, and the plane had to turn around and come back,' Smith said. 'That's the reason why we catch them and move them from the airport.' Smith said some people have suggested he leave the snowy owls alone. He shrugs them off. 'That's not good for the owl,' he said, 'and it certainly isn't good for the plane.' Boston Logan is haunted by the specter of a 1960 bird strike that ranks as the deadliest of its kind. In October of that year, a flock of starlings caused Eastern Airlines Flight 375 to plunge into Winthrop Bay minutes after takeoff. Of the 72 passengers and flight crew members on board, 10 survived. More often than not, bird strikes are not life-threatening to airplane passengers, but they can be harrowing. One of the most famous nonfatal incidents occurred in New York in 2009, when a US Airways plane flew into a flock of Canada geese. Captain Chesley 'Sully' Sullenberger III safely landed the aircraft on the Hudson River. Wildlife strikes are on the rise, according to the Federal Aviation Administration's most recent and complete data. In 2023, the agency recorded 19,603 run-ins in the United States, a 14 percent increase from the previous year's 17,205 collisions. Around the world, wildlife accidents involving civilian and military aircraft have killed more than 491 people and destroyed more than 350 aircraft between 1988 and 2023. Domestically, the numbers are 76 and 126, respectively. During roughly the same period, nearly 800 species were involved, including 651 bird species, such as black and turkey vultures, gulls, brown and white pelicans, trumpeter swans, American kestrels, bald eagles, and snowy owls. Among birds, the FAA said, waterfowl, raptors and gulls cause the greatest amount of damage. Airports employ a battalion of tactics to deter birds and mammals from tangling with aircraft operations. Not all of the strategies are well-received. In 2013, the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey instructed its airports to shoot any snowy owls on the premises, a legal method despite protections from the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. Workers at JFK International killed three snowy owls, unleashing a public outcry. The episode also spurred Turner, who was a Department of Agriculture biologist at the time, and Smith to create a USDA-accepted protocol for airport wildlife practices dealing with raptors. On a late March morning, the Blue Hills Trailside Museum in Milton was still in winter's grip. Smith wore a blue Mass Audubon hoodie, baggy black jeans and scuffed leather hiking boots. With his snowbank of hair and intense gaze, he resembled a snowy owl. When he smiled, his bushy white mustache quivered like feathers in the wind. I followed him into the small museum and to a glass case containing a pair of taxidermied snowy owls. Smith launched into a lesson about the birds - their size and coloring, courtship rituals, breeding habits, and taste for lemmings. In addition to his research, the grandfather of six is an educator. One of his primary goals, he said, is to inspire people, especially young ones, and help them 'better understand, appreciate and care for this world in which we live.' Back outside, two snowy owls in an enclosure coolly regarded us as Smith recounted their backstories. Both were airport rescues. The female bird had been sitting on a snow-melting machine at Boston Logan, and the heat caused irreparable damage to her feathers. 'This bird is not going to find its way back to the Arctic,' Smith said.
Washington Post
23-04-2025
- Washington Post
Snowy owls love the Boston airport. This man sends them away.
BOSTON — Every winter, Arctic snowy owls fly thousands of miles south to Boston Logan International Airport. And every season, Norman Smith drives less than an hour to try to snatch them up. 'I've seen a plane taxiing down the runway and the people looking out and seeing me with a bird,' said Smith, 73. 'They're like, 'What's that? What are you doing?''
CBS News
10-04-2025
- CBS News
Snowy owls love Logan Airport. Here's how one man helps keep them and planes safe
East Boston is notably home to Logan Airport , but what fliers may not see from above are the snowy owls being rescued by Norman Smith. "Since 1981, I've been going out to Logan Airport and capturing and relocating snowy owls," said Smith, a raptor specialist for Mass Audubon. From the runway to the wild, Smith has released more than 900 snowy owls rescued from Logan. His mission is to not just to protect the birds, but the planes. "Birds certainly are a threat to aircrafts," he said. Logan Airport has the largest known concentration of snowy owls in the northeast. While the tarmac may seem like an unusual place for them, Smith says it actually reminds them of home . "It looks very much like the Arctic tundra," he explained. "It's short, very short, mowed grass like it is in the Arctic. It's surrounded on three side by water, so there's plenty of food on the airport." The Arctic travelers end up at the airport during the harsh winters and some get hurt along the way. "The female was a bird that came from Logan and was sitting on a snow melter and melted all her feathers," explained Smith while showing WBZ-TV a snowy owl that now resides at Blue Hills Trailside Museum in Milton. Once the birds are rehabilitated, the ones unable to be released are available for locals to see up close at the Mass Audubon property. "Seeing they can't be released again, we bring them and put them on exhibit at the museum so people can see them close up and personable and they can be ambassadors for the owl species," he added. Smith's work is now getting national attention. A film about his work called the " Snowy Owls of Logan Airport " recently won the Audience Choice Award at the American Conversation Film Festival. "You wonder how many people's lives you've actually changed or stimulated," said Smith. "It's been an incredible experience to learn about these birds and see what they do, where they go, and how long they might live." His life's work is now a model for both public safety and conservation. "Together we can better understand, appreciate and care for the world in which we live," he said. Smith's research has shown that many snowy owls captured and relocated are in great shape. In 2000, with a gift from a donor, he and his team were able to put satellite transmitters on the wintering owls for the first time to track their movements. It proved that the owls wintering in Massachusetts make it back to the Arctic.
