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Dear GoodLetter readers,

I had never seen a robin's egg before, but I could tell from the frenzied work of a pair of the orange-breasted icons of spring that I was going to get my chance. Fresh grass from the yard, straggling Easter basket grass that had fallen short of the trash can, tiny scraps of plastic and fabric from who knows where -- a nest was, slowly but surely, taking shape just beneath the planks of my back porch.

Before long, I spotted two tiny blue eggs through the narrow space between the planks and watched the resolute vigil the parents seemed to keep over the nest. My regular status checks seemed to reveal no progress until I was away for a few days and returned to find two downy chicks, improbably large given the size of their eggs and bewildered at the size of the world around them and at the prospect that soon they'd be flying.

We're always stumbling upon unexpected opportunities to help things learn to fly. I spoke recently with Mary Ann Giglio and Brad Carney about the "robins" on their "back porch," high atop an historic 19-story building in downtown Rochester, New York. A bit different from mine, theirs are the fastest creatures on the planet, able to fly from Canada to South America in less than 48 hours and dive as fast as 200 miles per hour. Theirs are also some of the world's rarest, most threatened species with no more than 44 nesting pairs in the state of New York.

Theirs are peregrine falcons that spend the summer under the watchful gaze of captivated Rochesterians and 78,000 Kodak employees worldwide. Over the past four years, the extraordinary curiosity and motivation of Giglio and Carney, two ordinary folks at Kodak, have engaged the compassion of a community and a company. In 1998, Giglio noticed "leftovers" cascading across the building's upper windows and began lobbying for whatever was nesting beneath the roofline. Carney, a senior information technology consultant, hastily rigged a camera and discovered the birds of prey and their newborns.

Since then, Carney has installed four cameras and a real-time feed to both the Kodak Web site and a TV screen in the building's lobby. This kind of reality TV has boosted corporate morale and made it possible for the saga of "Mariah" and "Cabot-Sirocco" (a combination of both the name he's known by in his winter home near Toronto and the desert wind his flight so resembles) and their annual clutches (the name for a "flock" of peregrines) to become nothing less than a company obsession. Giglio's so proudly committed to the birds that the only female chick from last year's clutch was named Mary Ann in her honor. She considers it "a rare privilege that the endangered creature resides just a few feet from [her] office and is something that should be shared."

And is it ever. The local Audubon Society set up chairs in the Kodak parking lot to watch over the birds during the high-risk period in mid-June when they are learning to fly. Scores of Kodak employees -- most of whom he doesn't know -- stop Carney in the halls and ask him about the birds. "I overhear people at my son's baseball games talking about the birds without knowing who I am." This year's clutch of four chicks hatched on May 6 and will be banded on May 29 as part of the continuing effort to track them to ensure their survival.

I had been so curious to learn about my robins. I found myself wanting to tell people about them, to show the tiny glimpse of nature under the eaves. I would tiptoe across the porch to avoid startling them. I started to imagine yearly nests, yearly visits from this family of birds, and I began to envision things I could do to make it that much easier for them to succeed amidst the noise, the predators, the chaos of their urban destiny. I wanted it to become my humble legacy.

Carney and Giglio's legacy is far bigger. Their curiosity, their determination to educate themselves and broaden the awareness of others, to rally their colleagues around a simple mission, to make life just a little less complicated for a group of threatened birds have made a real difference. Still, Carney says it's simpler and more selfish than that: "I wanted to give my kids something to be proud of. My work with the peregrines has left an indelible mark on my kids about what their dad's all about."

Best,
Wood Turner (e-mail Wood)
Editor

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TALK ABOUT IT
What's your legacy? Companies are full of caring people like Giglio and Carney who are doing extraordinary things. Who are the real people in your company and what have they done to make it a different kind of place? Tell us your story.

LEARN MORE ABOUT IT
Check out the Kodak BirdCam 2001 for yourself and see what this year's clutch is up to today.

Non-profit peregrine conservation and educational organizations are everywhere. There's The Peregrine Fund, The Raptor Resource Project, and The Raptor Center, among others.

DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT
Become a part of the Canadian Peregrine Foundation's Project Adoption.




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