The Aviary

On one of my first visits to the farm a few years ago, Katherine took me on a tour of the original 80 acres. The tour seemed to last a long time as we managed through brush, overgrowth, and fallen trees. The trails and paths that had once meandered their way around the property had become so neglected, it made navigating through the woods difficult and slow. Nature was ever diligent in reclaiming back to it's wild state. Invasive honeysuckle, autumn olive and multi flora rose had choked off much of the cleared land. Stands of river birch, poplar and red cedar had taken hold. Vines of wild grape, kiwi, and other unidentifiable types began tightening grip and ascent up and onto any willing support. Some kiwi vines are 4" in diameter and others so massive they're snapping the tops of 50' trees because of their weight. What we were looking for was the remains of the aviary.

As noted in a past blog, Russel had created several ponds/lakes, one of which is named Lake Katherine. It was at Lake Katherine that also contained the remains of the aviary, the once crown jewel of the property for which Birdland got it's name.

Elliott Abel, an acquaintance of Russel's youngest son, Paul, got to know Russel as a project for his film class while attending Columbia College in Chicago. Elliott and his friend Eric began the process of documenting Russel's life at Birdland as an independent documentary film project, particularly his latter life and with his sculpture interests and views on life. Clicking on his name above will re-direct you to his blog on Russel with bits of film and other views on his part. It was a result of Elliott interviewing Russel that several old 35mm slide carousels were discovered in a corner closet, containing pictures from the early days of Birdland. Water damaged, moldy, dirty and in a complete non-functioning state, it seemed a waste to salvage. Elliott suggested drying out the slides and copying what was salvageable. Any disturbance to the film surface completely damaged the image so, we just left them dry as is and copied what we could with a slide scanner. The mold growth on the film surface revealed some interesting effects to the images and we left them as such. The pictures on this post are from those slide images.


The Aviary was set on a little more than two acres of property, or about the size of two football fields. In the summer of 1974, construction began in earnest. Bulldozers, a dredge crane, front end loaders carved up the earth.

Utility poles were set, steel cables were strung and a mass of nylon mesh enclosed it all, sides and roof. A portion of Lake Katherine was within it's boundaries  along with Russel River. Russel River had no upstream source and it flowed nowhere, basically, it was nothing more than a long gash in the ground with water in it but, it sounded good. 

Trees were planted within it's meshed walls, buckeye, dawn redwood, red cedars and cast of other exotic trees and plants. Gate entries, exits and paths were established for the visitors. Birds were purchased and released into "worlds largest free flight aviary". The local newspapers were contacted to generate publicity. The vision of an entrepreneur was unleashed. Dreams of grandeur, money and notoriety, prestige, perhaps international consulting. After all, it was three times the size of the current largest aviary, the Lory Loft at Jurong Bird Park, and that was half way around the world, in Singapore. This is northwest Indiana, certainly not the most conducive place on the planet for year round birds. It was money from one man's pocket against the deep pockets of the Indonesian government. One man's concerted efforts versus an army of marketers, biologists, engineers and architects. It was a dream pursued.

Nature will always have it's way, at least in the end. We encourage it's growth and at the same time, try to control and maintain it. In our relationship with nature, particularly in our attempts to bridle the unexpected change, it's often about scale. This one man endeavor was little too big in size, a little too big in cost, a little too big in maintenance and a little too big in the dream department. The prized birds began disappearing. Water levels fluctuated. Structures and infrastructure settled in ever fearful ways, compliance and maintenance was costly. Pests dominated. Predators and varmints invaded and had their way in their domain. Pretty soon, the birds were gone. Nobody came any more. Why waste money? The only birds remaining were the locals, blue jays, sparrows,  crows, owls, turkey vultures, blah, blah, blah. The one area of success in the endeavor was failure and, it was crushing and scarring.

Katherine and I found the remnants of the aviary and I do have to say that even after thirty some years, the size of it is still impressive. Much of the ceiling netting has given way to the trees as they've pushed their way through. Some have been entangled in the netting, others snared in thick vines of who knows what. Some of the old tree species signs are still there. Many of the trees were planted too close together creating tight islands of what could have been, or could be, a beautiful specimen. The dawn redwood is straight and thin and probably about fifty plus feet.

Lake Katherine, once pristine and stocked with fish is now very shallow and often covered with a continuous blanket of green algae during the summer months. Russell River, a watery ditch overgrown with river birch, it too, a green slab.



The trees and plants however, continued to grow and grow and grow. The farm fields became forested and thick. Where one dream died, new life spouted and, in a new kind of way. The new life spread way beyond two acres, some good, some bad, some ugly. Wild life moved in, some in human form.

Clean up will be difficult.