Abstract
Mike Lubbock is a birdman. He created a bird park with about 2,000 birds. And they lay eggs, which is his favorite part, making more birds. But to really know what makes a birdman a birdman, go to his home, where he lives as a man man. In Lubbock's house just outside of Scotland Neck, he has a fossilized egg of the extinct elephant bird on a shelf. There's also
a rhino penis bone, the base of a human skull, and a boa constrictor's skin. But those things he's collected in his travels don't make him the birdman, either. No, what makes him the birdman is this:
Past the parrot that repeats "Hello, Sylvan Heights Waterfowl," is
a living room with four dozen paintings of birds. And saved on the DVR is "An Original DUCKumentary." Lubbock has been awaiting this TV show for weeks; it's like his "American Idol." But first, his wife has dinner cooking. As Lubbock's top staff members chat
at the table, Ali Lubbock cooks cottage pie, one of her specialties from their native England. Mike Lubbock sits at the head of the table, and everybody passes the cottage pie around. They've been up since sunrise, working with birds. And now they're at the birdman's house, talking about birds. They talk of a time in Jamaica when
they raced down to gather eggs from an endangered duck species. And they're still talking about trips to Brazil, to Africa, and to zoos while scooping second helpings, until suddenly the birdman flutters off. From the other room, the "DUCKumentary" can be heard. "Are you watching that now?" Ali asks. "Just," Mike says, "I just want to see a little bit." Ali laughs. "Can't it wait until after dinner?" The birdman walks from his living room full of bird paintings, past the talking bird in a cage, and re-enters the dining room with his bird park staff. He reluctantly takes a seat to finish his dinner.
We should go to the place where Lubbock's captivating birds live, home to more waterfowl species (160) than anywhere else in the nation. Initially named Sylvan Heights Waterfowl Park, some people showed up in swimsuits expecting waterslides, so Lubbock changed it to Sylvan Heights Bird Park. Here, he also has 25 species of wetland birds and 50 other species - owls and hawks and a colorful Toco toucan. The toucan is worth five figures. But some of the most priceless birds to Lubbock, you might not even notice. The Australian green pygmy geese cost $8,000 per pair, but his desire
to keep alive the declining species is worth much more. He's yet to successfully breed them, but every mating season he hopes for the miracle of life. The main purpose of the Scotland N eek park in Halifax County is Lubbock's main purpose - saving bird species. A breeding center rarely seen by the public is where the most important work is done, trying to mate rare waterfowl. But that work
isn't profitable. So in 2006, Lubbock opened the bird park to visitors. There are North American, South American, Asian, Australian, and African areas. There's an endangered species area, where Lubbock has several pairs of white-winged wood ducks, which were nearly extinct until Lubbock saved the whole species. And there
are many birds - like the toucan - that are here because they're bright and people pay to see them. But why? Why should we care
to save birds? Lubbock has a story for that, too. Years ago, Lubbock made an emergency trip to Guatemala to rescue a species around Lake Atitlan. The water was so clear, Lubbock could see the bottom 100 feet down. But as people introduced largemouth bass for recreational fishing, the bass ate up the poc flightless grebes' favorite food - crabs. But by the time Lubbock arrived, only one small cluster of flightless grebes, unable to fly to another lake, remained. The species died. "If we'd have gotten there sooner, we might've been able to help," Lubbock says. That's the hardest part of all of this,
he says. 'T d rather see a bird live in captivity than see it dead in a museum."
Growing up on a farm in rural England, Lubbock went outside one day and found a hole. The hole was large enough to be considered a cave, so Lubbock went inside and found bats. He put several inside a saddlebag. And he rode off on his bike. The next day, his mother grabbed the saddlebag for her daily ride to the post office. She got the mail and opened the saddlebag. Dozens of bats flew up at her as she unzipped the bag. "If you have a big hole in the ground,"he told her, "you have to go explore it."His affection for things with wings - and places for things with wings - grew from there. Most waterfowl aren't glamorous. Some of Lubbock's ducks are worth only $50 a pair. But Lubbock loves them for their traits
- the webbed feet, the feathers they clean every day, the migration habits. Evolution is easy to see. Take, for instance, mallard ducks and Canada geese. We see them so often because they've adapted to live among humans. Lubbock calls them the rats of the waterfowl world. They're mean. They dominate. They're products of adaptation and evolution and the survival of the fittest. Lubbock, 69, began working at the Slimbridge Wetland Centre in England when he was 17. He's been to every continent since, chasing birds. The queen of England once invited him to the royal palace because her redbreasted geese were reluctant to breed. Lubbock advised Her Majesty to keep parties clear of the ducks' living area.