~ Anne Kilgannon
This review is just a glimpse… an introduction to a Bird Hero we, who live in this state, should get to know. It’s also an exploration of the path that created a birder then and what helped shape the early conservation movements.
William Finley was born in 1876 in Santa Clara County, California where his parents had migrated from the east with their families as children. Looking for more opportunity, they moved to Portland, Oregon in 1887, a fortuitous stroke of wonder located squarely under the Pacific Flyway. William was fascinated by birds from a child; he was an early collector of eggs and nests and later bird skins as aids in learning everything he could about the many species. This was a common approach in his time as guides for western birds were as yet unknown. Ruthless hunting for both sport and for profit was also common, either for the meat markets or the feather industry. This depredation was so pronounced that the state passed its first law addressing the slaughter of its wildlife in 1872, an Act for the Protection of Game and Fish—but with no accompanying funds for enforcement, it was ineffective, and the killing continued. Finley still collected wild bird eggs and sold them to dealers, but his interests now included capturing birds with his camera.
The art of photography had advanced since its widespread introduction during the Civil War; cameras were by then more portable for field studies and print-making had improved in ease and quality. Photos could also be published with better results, making them a new way to share images and document nature. The book includes a wide selection of photos taken by Finley over time, including some of him working his camera which helps visualize some of his feats of incredible ingenuity and daring.
He was still a high school student when he helped form a new club, the Northwestern Ornithological Association in 1894 with a friend, Arthur Pope. Pope promoted the group in The Oregon Naturalist magazine, an organization that facilitated the growing culture of nature study, both locally and nationwide. One of the group’s early projects was to compile a first-time list of birds found in Oregon—252 and still counting. William also began writing for the magazine, breaking into print for the first of a lifelong profession. He also became the next president of the club at age nineteen, introducing a new constitution and more structure with a focus on science-based operation, moving beyond mere collecting. He emphasized, “He who would know a bird must visit it in its own haunt and train his ear to distinguish it by its varied notes… Bird life can only be studied among living birds… A true ornithologist will work on the line of the protection of our birds in every way.” He ended all his collecting and focused solely on photography as a method for learning. His longtime friend Bohlman joined him on excursions into the mountains and up the rivers seeking untrammeled wilderness.
An emerging crisis of plume hunters devastating flocks found the club’s response weakened by the death of Arthur Pope, the folding of The Naturalist magazine, and Finley’s departure for more schooling at University of California, at Berkeley in 1899. In these years, Oregon created its first State Game and Fish Protector position, but still skimped on funding enforcement. Market hunters continued their wholesale slaughter, saying, “we didn’t think the bird supply would ever give out.” Finley thought otherwise and poured his energy into photographing birds “to preserve them for all to enjoy… showing the lives, habits and characteristics of birds.” He also began to collect bird stories to share his passion with a wider audience. While winning over some, meat and plume market hunting continued, decimating populations of birds. The state’s game laws and enforcement were too weak to address the carnage.
While in California, Finley contributed to the local conservation journal, The Condor, which introduced him to Joseph Grinnell, a conservation-minded respected biologist, and an important mentor. He was developing his skills in reaching out with his bird lore. The nation was beginning to awaken to the plight of birds, passing the Lacey Act in Congress, but enforcement was still weak. In a different effort to change the hunting culture, Frank Chapman, another crusader for bird protection, promoted his idea for a Christmas live-bird count instead of a boast of dead birds bagged. That tradition still engages bird lovers throughout the country.
When Finley returned home, he and his friend Bohlman planned one of their greatest adventures: to “study and photograph the sea birds that live on Three Arch Rocks”, sentinels on the Pacific coast. They had learned that boat excursions for hunters would regularly sail to the area and shoot nesting birds for thrills. No one counted the bodies or thought about the young left to starve. The basalt rocks rose nearly vertically from the crashing waves, with a few footholds where sea lions hauled up, but was mostly a 200 to 300-foot guano-slippery climb while carrying the heavy camera equipment of the day. Their trials, from landing their boat amidst the heaving waves, to hoisting food, fresh water and equipment for their stay, to counting birds and documenting the life there as well as possible, make for a hair-raising read. That they succeeded and returned to dry land with heart-opening photographs is one of the greatest bird-study stories of the century.
The outcome from that adventure was tremendous in a different way. Finley made copies of the best photographs and was able to invite himself into the White House and show them to President Theodore Roosevelt, who was so impressed he was reported to say “Bully! Bully! Bully!” and ask for more images. The President had earlier declared Pelican Island in Florida as a bird sanctuary to save the pelicans and egrets and other “plume” birds from slaughter; now he was moved to declare Three Arch Rocks a sanctuary and stop the senseless shooting there.
This triumph for Finley was only the beginning of his years of dedication to document bird life in Oregon—and Washington State*—and create reserves to restrict hunting. There isn’t space here to recount all his efforts, trials and wins, but just to mention his long battles and some successes to save Malheur and the Klamath area wetlands from destruction from ill-planned drainage and rampant hunting. His story is worth a read and our lasting gratitude and admiration.
*Early Audubon records document Finley’s work here in Washington; he was a link between the headquarters in the East with development of bird knowledge and protective efforts here. He was generous with his time and strategies with the emerging movement in this state, but his primary involvement was with Oregon.
You can also find a good chapter-length description of Finley’s work in The Feather Wars, by James McCommons.
