Birds Know Best: The Ironic Tale of Audubon’s Resting Place

April 26, 1785

On this day, the remarkable John James Audubon took his first breath in Haiti—a man whose destiny would become so intertwined with our feathered friends that even in death, birds would seek his company.

While many celebrate Audubon for his exquisite illustrations that captured the essence and vitality of America's avian wonders, it is perhaps his philosophy of stewardship that speaks most profoundly to us gardeners. The man himself declared:

"A true conservationist knows the world is not given by his fathers but borrowed from his children."

How revolutionary such thinking was for his time! And how desperately we need this wisdom today as we tend our plots and preserve our green spaces.

Audubon's connection to birds extended beyond his mortal life, as evidenced by a deliciously ironic tale published in The Ottawa Daily Republic. The newspaper recounted:

"John J. Audubon, the naturalist and bird lover, is buried in Trinity cemetery.

There has been erected over his grave an Iona cross; the arms of which are connected by a circular band of stone, making apertures of the four corners at the intersection.

In one of these, (apertures) robins built a nest last month. This fell under the eye of a caretaker, who got a pole and dislodged the nest. The birds flew about disconsolately for a time, then went away."

So far as any one knows, Audubon did not turn over in his grave, neither did any of the carved birds on the [cross] cry out."

One can only imagine the spectacle—birds seeking sanctuary at the very monument of their most devoted chronicler, only to be shooed away by a caretaker clearly lacking both poetry in his soul and knowledge of whose grave he tended!

For us gardeners, there is a lesson here. Our plots are not merely collections of plants arranged for beauty or sustenance; they are sanctuaries for the very creatures Audubon so lovingly captured with his brush. When we cultivate our gardens with native plants and thoughtful spaces, we honor his legacy far more than any stone monument ever could.

The robins that attempted to nest at Audubon's grave were performing a tribute more fitting than any eulogy—creating life at the resting place of the man who gave their ancestors immortality through art. How tragically fitting that human intervention should disrupt this perfect circle of tribute!

As you plan your gardens this spring, consider creating spaces where Audubon's beloved birds might find refuge. What greater honor could we pay to this visionary conservationist than to make our gardens living museums of biodiversity? Plant native berries for robins, install shallow water features for warblers, and allow a corner to grow wild for ground-nesting species.

After all, in each garden lies the potential for conservation—a small plot "borrowed from our children" that we might return to them richer in life than we found it.