We've lost a man who was larger than life, a true fountain of Colorado birding culture. Mimi and I are so very sad to hear this news.
Instead of mentioning his top state list, Joe liked to tell people that he had the highest ratio of birding stories to birding skill in the state. Like many of his witticisms, that one took a minute to parse. Actually it took me years—I found such a claim doubtful coming from a guy with quite a bit of skill. Over time, though, I learned that he was right—he may have had a lot of skill, but he had infinitely more stories.
A story for every situation, a wit always ready. Reading back through our many emails has been highly entertaining. On the trips we did together he'd be just as interested in the people around us as the birds.
When he first met my wife Mimi, she was in her first year of medical school and learning anatomy (that is, spending a lot of time with a cadaver). "Oh," says Joe, "I've got to send you these pictures." A few days later he emailed us a blog post describing how, a hundred years ago, the black humor of med school took the form of students posing for portraits with their cadavers…sometimes even posing the cadavers around the students! He loved the absurd, and yet even something so absurd as that he treated with sympathy and grace. (He wrote that he saw it as an attempt by the students to counterbalance the anxiety they felt when facing death and the human body so closely.)
I don't actually remember the first time I met Joe. He is one of the biggest birding mentors I have had. We did so much together over the years. He had two cars, and each license plate was a different condensation of the word "Peregrine"—his favorite bird.
Which reminds me of a time we went to Marston to chase Ruddy Turnstones and other good Denver birds. It could be challenging to go on a chase with Joe in those years, because he had to plan in advance and could not be gone from MaryAnne for more than a few hours. We had had a phase of repeated dips, and on this day we were one step behind. We circled the reservoir several times, along the way getting reports from other birders saying, yes, they were just here, they flew that way. Yet Joe remained upbeat. I don't know if he truly cared about getting "the bird" or not. His day was made when he found not one but two Peregrine Falcons resting on the mudflats. Finally, when his internal timer had run out and he was attempting to drag me away from my scope, we found a Common Tern on a concrete pipe. Though he clearly wanted to go home, he took a moment to puzzle through its field marks with me and enjoy the bird. And then the turnstones came moseying up behind it! And then we were speeding back home. His devotion to MaryAnne was legendary.
Mimi and I loved being around Joe. With a lot of birders you have to work hard if you want the conversation to travel anywhere other than birds… With Joe the talk wandered freely from birds to Mimi's experience in medicine to our mutual love of words and arcane history.
Others have written about how good he was at nudging people toward taking on new responsibilities. I was one of those people, and I got to watch him do it again and again in the DFO boardroom. He started meetings by saying he was only there to get the title he would have next: ex-president of DFO. And then he would proceed to run an organized, efficient meeting. DFO grew by leaps and bounds under his leadership. He had a knack for finding the right people to take on various tasks and then giving them the confidence and freedom to run with those tasks outside the boardroom. His approach to leadership continues to influence my own board service.
A quick afternoon visit to Joe and MaryAnne was never just a visit. Joe would break out cheese and crackers and even champagne with blackberries. We talked endlessly about our families. As Mimi and I have corresponded with Joe over the last year, we've commented a number of times how fortunate he and MaryAnne are to have their kids and grandkids within a few minutes' drive. Family meant so much to him, and he got to see them all the time.
We last saw Joe in January. He got to meet our son, George, (two months old at the time) at a diner and gave us a gift-wrapped box. You could tell he was frustrated about the mystery of his health issues, and yet he somehow also remained curious, wry, and open about it. It was a wonderful visit. When Mimi, George, and I got back to where we were staying, we had a surprise. The gift box was empty! We debated whether or not we should tell Joe. In the end we realized that he of all people would get a kick out of it, so we called to thank him for the nice box and the tissue paper inside. He was mortified but soon he was laughing. He tracked down the actual gift and took a special trip to bring it to us on our way to the airport. That was the last time we saw him. In true Joe fashion, the gift was beautifully presented, fancy, and also a little absurd: along with some clothes, a stuffed animal that looks sort of like a deer or a rabbit with sparkling gray antlers. A jackalope? Of course it's one of George's favorites.
Joe Roller was a legend in his own time. He deserves every tribute we can give him. For every story we might tell, he could tell ten.
Chris Rurik
Lakebay, WA
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