Date: 12/30/24 7:07 am From: Edmund LeGrand (via carolinabirds Mailing List) <carolinabirds...> Subject: An owling adventure with John Fussell
I appreciate Derb Carter’s notification of John Fussell’s passing and
everyone’s recollection of John’s life and his huge impact on us. John and
I actively birded together in our college days at NC State under Dr. Tom
Quay’s guidance. Since then I’ve spent most of my time away from NC, only
occasionally birding again with this good friend. Four years ago, I called
John to ask if he remembered a most unusual night from many years ago. He
did indeed, and together we put our memories together, each adding key
details that the other had forgotten (of course, John remembered the year).
After John’s 1974 Morehead City Christmas Bird Count compilation, he drove
Chris Marsh, Chris’s sister Lisa, and me back out to try to find owls near
Newport. As he drove us down old logging roads in our pursuit of
last-minute owls, we started telling ghost stories. Finally I said, “I’m
not afraid of ghosts. They aren’t real. But crazy people are!” And so the
conversation shifted accordingly. About 11:30 PM we got on the state
highway, quite deserted back then. We soon drove past the prison, which
featured into our conversation. All of a sudden John’s Volkswagen beetle
went completely silent, and the headlights shut off. We all looked at each
other in surprise. John, while saying it felt like he was working against
an opposing force, steered the powerless car to a stop in a wooded section
of the road. John, Chris, and I got out and were immediately surprised by a
very nearby, hair-raising laugh: “HA, HA, HEE, HEE, HOO, HAA!!!” Yes, it
sounded a lot like a Barred Owl, but it sounded EXACTLY like a homicidal
maniac who had somehow sabotaged the car to catch us in his trap! No one
said anything as we stood there. It remained quiet. Finally, I broke the
silence and said, “That WAS a Barred Owl, WASN’T it?” We were all glad that
we were familiar with the caterwauling calls of Barred Owls—non-birders
would have been in BIG trouble!!! We were astounded that Lisa, still in the
car, somehow hadn’t even heard it! We were fortunate in the days before
cell phones that it was only a couple-mile walk past the prison back to
tiny Newport. Amazingly, the fire station was hosting a Christmas party
that lasted past midnight! They let us use the phone to call John’s father
to get us. Since I doubt there were any available public phones in town
back then, our next option might have been to walk all the way back to
Morehead. Chris, did we get this 50-year-old memory right?
