Personal Account
The heavy pedestrian gate at the entrance to the Mount Auburn Cemetery rolls back on a quarter circle of iron track, opening and closing with the sound of a distant, departing thunderstorm. Before you, beyond the stone gatehouses to your right and left, lie rich worlds to explore--worlds of science, art and commerce; of family, community and history; of trees, flowers and birds; of reflections and of filtered light.
For myself as for many others, Mount Auburn is also a world of departed ancestors, relatives and friends. Perhaps it will be a destination, too.
A group of people is standing in front of the gatehouse to your left, conversing, awaiting the leader of an early morning bird club walk. You'll find them here every morning from the last week in April through the third week in May. Almost within reach, I remember, a Lincoln's Sparrow is singing, hidden in among the heavy Virginia Creeper growing on the gatehouse. But the birders are socializing. They are listening to each other. They hear the sound the bird is making but they do not hear it singing.
The bird trip leaders know Mount Auburn. They'll help you
find birds and determine their identity. They'll make sure all
members of the group see any birds they especially want to see
before they move on. The better leaders make sure everyone has
seen the bird well.
To join the group, introduce yourself. Or begin your own walk by going inside the gatehouse to your left for a map provided by the Friends of Mount Auburn. You'll also find copies of its other publications, including Birds at Mount Auburn. You are strongly urged to become a Friend.
South of the entrance a crenelated tower stands at the top
of the steep hill that gives Mount Auburn its name. Built in
1854 as a memorial to George Washington, the tower is a prominent
landmark visible from any open place in the cemetery.
Down Central Avenue towards the tower, at the top of a gentle rise, a large, pharaonic bronze figure sits balancing a big book on his right leg with his right hand. Born in 1773, Nathanael Bowditch died in 1838, seven years after Mount Auburn was first consecrated. Many then owed and continue to owe their wealth to him, and many more their livelihoods. His memorial came before Washington's. I'll tell you more about him later.
The Friends of Mount Auburn sponsor early morning bird trips. Registration is required and a small fee is charged. The trips leave from Story Chapel, to your left as your enter through the gate. I lead two of these trips. I'll do one now, sharing recollections with you from place to place.
Just beyond Story Chapel, Indian Ridge footpath leads up from Central Avenue and along an esker. Bird clubs normally take the ridge route for good reason, but crowds searching the tree tops and the thickets block the narrow path early in the day, so we'll take Fountain Avenue, the wide road to our left that leads to Halcyon Lake. On the road we'll have room for all of us, and at Halycon Lake we can search for birds at eye level as well as high above us.
On our left, just past Story Chapel, the sword and cap of a Union officer.
Shortly thereafter, on our right, the barely legible north
face of a brownstone memorial that speaks of a man I want to know
have known-- <<WILLIAM GALLAGHER/Late Landlord of the Howard
Street House/Born 1798/Died July 4th 1834/This monument was
erected by a few friends,/who, although connected to him by no
ties/of kindred, knew, loved and honored him>>
To our right further on, just before Halcyon Lake, dates on three stones tell a story for those who have eyes to hear... <<...Colonel Second Mass. Cavy/Born in Boston, Jany 2, 1835/Wounded Octb 19, 1864/At the battle of Cedar Creek/Died Octb 20, 1864>>...<<And his wife.../Born in West Roxbury/Decr 16, 1843/Died in New York/Octb 12, 1905>>... <<...Daughter of.../Born Nov. 30, 1864/Died Sept 19, 1924>>
On the opposite side of Halcyon Lake stands a small, white
classic temple from an very well imagined Golden Age. A memorial
to Mary Baker Eddy, founder of Christian Science.
It gives Halcyon Lake its common name,
Eddy Pond. For several days a Red Bat has been clinging to
one side of the gleaming stone. A Spotted Sandpiper can be seen
on the shore just below. A Cerulean Warbler can be heard above
us and in the rhododendrons, and a Common Yellowthroat, too.
That recollection of mine, you cannot experience for yourself; but a like experience, you can expect to have.
Near us stand three tall gray classic pillars set close together in a line, supporting a heavy lintel. At their feet, round walls of heavy stone enclose a shallow well ever filled with fresh flowers--blue pansies bordered with white in the cool of early Spring. The water is the floor of a grand ballroom. The mists are dancing partners ascending to tangos and waltzes. It is cold. A White-eyed Vireo begins to sing.