is a further connection here—in a 1994 issue of the Canadian Field-Naturalist journal, there appears a piece under this title: “Louise de Kiriline Lawrence (1894-1992) and the World of Nature: A Tribute.” I recommend it highly. It was written by Marianne G. Ainley, Concordia University, Montreal. I was pleasantly surprised to find this comment in Dr. Ainley’s acknowledgments: “I am grateful to Bob Nero for the inspiration he gave to Louise in her old age….” And for the inspiration Louise still gives me, see Just My Luck in this book.
It will be seen that my writing often revolves around my dear wife, Ruth, constant companion of 57 wedded years. Also, I have been fortunate in the number of people who have encouraged me to write. Poet Mary Ann Rodewald (and a Ph.D. in City Planning) gave me permanent standing in the poem “A New Year” in her 1979 collection, Al Sirat, writing: “You are shy at times. And hide in parentheses./You are brazen on occasion/And risk the role/of a fool.”
Ruth has long supported my involvement with birds, from my graduate studies of the Red-winged Blackbird in the late forties to my interest in Great Gray Owls after we moved to Winnipeg in 1966. Almost the entire family helped me build nest-platforms to attract Great Grays. Even today, one of those nests, checked annually by my protegé—Dr. Jim Duncan—is appropriately called the “Ruth nest” because of her involvement. The Nero family relationship with owls gained a new intensity beginning in 1985 with my use of a tame Great Gray Owl for educational purposes, a story nicely covered in my book, Lady Grayl: Owl With a Mission,
Admittedly, I derive a lot of satisfaction in responses to my writings, sending off copies of poems almost as often as I write letters to friends and acquaintances, delighting in the replies. The reception the poem “Growing old together” received largely motivated me to select this piece as the title poem for this collection. Here are three examples: “Loved it!! It engendered some poignant musings, indeed.” That, from Manitoba wildlife specialist Bob Carmichael. And from a pen pal in Wisconsin, Jennifer Nieland, “So if someone asks me ‘Jennifer, how do you feel about…?’ I’ll just say: ‘I feel Growing old together by Robert Nero’—and the person would know what I meant! How does that work? I think you should have such a collection of the Growing old together. I really felt that poem, and I think that you have captured a woman’s feeling.”
“Revelations of Ruth—Part II” continues the theme that appeared in my previous book, Spring Again. If I was hesitant to use these bits of our lives, Ruth was almost adamant that they not appear in print. But they’ve been well received. Margaret Wilson, editor of the Pickering Naturalist, Ontario, commented: “Your ‘Revelations of Ruth’ could also be ‘Revelations of Robert’—what sensitive writing. It brings me to tears of emotion.” Gene Matel, an old fellow-graduate student from our University of Wisconsin days, commenting on some of the “Revelations” in this book, wrote: “Bob, Bob, Bob…your ‘Revelations of Ruth’ are a gem! I cried, and more importantly, I laughed so hard my stomach ached….”
Norah Lane, reflecting on poems in The Mulch Pile, wrote from Toronto in 1995 (she was then 87), “Ruth, it is your presence and your closeness to Nature that brings out the poetry of love in Bob.” And, “I feel, Ruth, that you are so much a part of Bob’s poetry your spirit speaks in areas that are so beautiful.”
When environmental lawyer, Alan W. Scarth, Q.C., of Winnipeg, once spoke kindly about some of my poems, I replied that I was afraid they were all rather simple in nature, hardly warranting his praise. To which he stated: “On the contrary, simplicity is the most profound thing we can experience.” Later, on March 17, 1994, Scarth sent me these memorable words: “Delighting in your Mulch Pile [my second book] and its shafts of sunlight, and breaths of northern air as we head down into Los Angeles, houses and cars blurred through the smog. If Gaia tolerates us another century or two, your poems will have the permanence of the Roman verses, glimpses into a past world where life still had some earth and wild to hold to, and survival did not seem to be an issue.”
In some respects, my most cherished comment came from the late Dr. John T. Emlen, Jr., noted zoology professor, ornithologist and naturalist. “Doc” Emlen was the kind soul who guided me through graduate school. In a letter of October 12, 1989, Doc wrote: “Thanks for your letter, the article on Athabascan ventifacts and the poem on the shrew’s tracks in the new snow. I’m no poet, but I do like good, straight-forward poems—and I like yours—so I guess that makes you a good poet.”
A few of these poems have appeared in print in Nature Society News, the monthly Purple Martin paper out of Griggsville, Illinois; The Badger Birder, Wisconsin newsletter and their journal, The Passenger Pigeon; Trail Landscape and Pickering Naturalist, Ontario; Bird Watcher’s Digest; Blue Jay, Saskatchewan Nature Society; Manitoba Archaeological Newsletter, Manitoba Naturalists Society Bulletin and in the Manitoba Wildlife Rehabilitation Organization’s newsletter The Wing Beat. I am grateful to the several editors of those publications for their interest.
For getting me outside on a daily basis in all seasons, whether just driving down a road or hiking through snowdrifts, exploring willow thickets and distant woods, thus helping to keep me alert and responsive, I owe thanks to Buster, actually Buster II, our friendly Brittany spaniel. We’re together in several earlier poems and a few in this collection.
Recently, out looking for discarded beer containers in muddy ditches and roadsides, while Buster ran about in May-time exuberance, I thought that publication of a poem on this topic would be further justification for this curious activity—and here we have two pieces on this topic.
Elizabeth A. Struthers deserves considerable credit for helping me get the manuscript typed and assembled—thanks, Betty. For welcome assistance in transmitting the manuscript to the publisher, and additional communication, I am indebted to my good friend and fellow owl fan James R. Duncan—thanks so much, Jim!
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