In Memory of Pete Bacinski

The Orange Hat Society at Brig
(Bob, Larry, Pete, Lauren, Mike, Hank)

I stopped at a Wawa on my way up to South Amboy for Scott's walk in Raritan Bay Waterfront Park when I saw the sad and shocking text from Mike that Pete passed away last night. I don't know how many of these entries have begun "I went on Pete's & Mike's trip to Brig today," but if I added up all the loops around the impoundments I made with them we could probably have driven to California.

It is safe to say that Pete was a legend in New Jersey birding--it seems like everyone with binoculars in the state has a Pete story, a Pete encounter, a bird pointed out to them by him, a song identified by his keen ear. Pete taught me many birding lessons. Because there's a Tufted Titmouse at our feeder right now, I'm reminded of this one: Pete said that if you hear a bird calling and you can't figure out what it is, then it is probably a titmouse. He's was right about that more times than I can count. I know his influence will live on in my personal lexicon--a Brown-headed Cowbird will forever be a "901." (It's a long story, best told by Mike.)

The picture above was taken at the Gull Pond at Brig. I think it would be appropriate to rename that pool after Pete, who spent so many hours birding it and pointing out birds to hundreds of others.

Pete never really liked gulls much (he was a shorebird fanatic), so it seemed ironic to be in South Amboy hoping for a rare gull. I can't say it was the field guide look, but I did see, pretty clearly though far out in the channel, my state Little Gull. I'd say it was an "if you say so" bird except that I was able to clearly see the deep black on the under wings.

The bay was overcast, cold, windy; a gloomy morning, the external weather matching the internal.