Obituary: Frederick Zumdahl Lesher
Peregrine Falcon nesting sites in Minnesota
and elsewhere along the Mississippi River.
Established a raptor count site near Reno in
Houston County.
Designed the “Lansing Loop,” a three-state
birding route with sites along the Missis-
sippi.
In 2001, co-authored the booklet A Birder’s
Guide to Houston County.
Wrote several President’s Page columns,
book reviews, notes, and articles for The
Loon, including accounts of both King Rails
and Yellow-crowned Night-Herons breeding
in La Crescent in Houston County.
Received the MOU’s Thomas S. Roberts Me-
morial Award in 2012, our lifetime-achieve-
ment award “For Outstanding Contributions
to Minnesota Ornithology and Birding.”
And, as recalled by Janet Green: “In the
early days of birding in Minnesota, five de-
cades ago, practically every bird was new
and exciting. The most memorable experi-
ence with him was on December 17, 1966
in Grand Marais when we chased a shore-
bird that he had first spotted flying over the
water. The bird was a Purple Sandpiper,
Minnesota’s first record.”
Some other memories of Fred: He took a
sabbatical leave from the University of Wis-
consin, La Crosse, to study ravens — not as an
ornithological inquiry, but their place in mythol-
ogy, religion, communications, and literature.
He once set out to canoe the length of the
Mississippi River from Itasca State Park to the
Gulf of Mexico; after a few days, however, he
realized his physical limits and reluctantly had
to give up about a hundred miles later near
Grand Rapids. But he and a friend did canoe
the Churchill River in Canada in the late 1980s.
They drove to Thompson, Manitoba, loaded the
canoe in the train’s baggage car, got dropped
off literally in the middle of nowhere as the
tracks neared the river, and canoed the rest of
the way to Churchill on Hudson Bay.
Like the rest of us, Fred had his faults, and
some considered one of them to be his no-
tion that the MOU and The Loon focused too
much on science and listing and not enough
on poetry. Imagine that — an English professor
interested in poetry! (And so, I dedicate this
couplet to him... Roses are red, violets ain’t
maroon. Poetry’s nice, but not in The Loon.)
Whether or not there is too much emphasis
on listing, he actually has the distinction of
being the very first MOU member to write an
article for Birding, the journal of the American
Birding Association. This was back in 1974.
The title was “Listing Eponymous Species Hom-
onymously Eponymously Reviewed” (i.e., the
L.E.S.H.E.R. list), and it poked fun at listing by
suggesting birders look for species named for
someone with the same name as their birding
companions. (“I sighted a MacGillivray’s Warbler
while in the company of Charlotte MacGillivray
— in fact, Charlotte’s real name is Bertha Bjorn-
sturm, but she wants to be a movie star, so...”)
During the later years of our friendship,
Fred would occasionally lament that he seldom
heard from some of those he used to bird with
years ago. Especially poignant was the time I
happened to run into him as he was camped
out alone on the Gunflint Trail on his 60th
birthday. He described this camping trip as sort
of running away from home when he reached
that milestone age, and — even then, more than
20 years before he died — he began to wonder
aloud if he was ever really noticed. By then,
Fred’s ornithological achievements had dimin-
ished with age to the point where many reading
this now may have no idea who he was.
Fred is survived by Jolene Lesher, his wife
of 60 years, son Jonathan Lesher, daughters
June Lesher and Sarah Burdick, and 11 grand-
children.
I suppose, in a way, you could say he is
also survived by his beloved Houston County,
though it is less the destination of choice as it
once had been. The bobwhites are now gone,
its gallinules and night-herons no longer as
consistent as before, and birders have discov-
ered other places for Acadian Flycatcher, Tufted
Titmouse, Louisiana Waterthrush, and Blue-
winged, Prothonotary, and Cerulean warblers.
Finding these birds in Houston County decades
ago had been — much like Fred Lesher — part
of the early days of birding in Minnesota, when
“practically every bird was new and exciting.”
—Duluth, MN.
88 The Loon Volume 91