Nicholas Wagerik, known to all who knew him as "Nick", passed away  
earlier this month in New York City.      Nick became known to  
hundreds and hundreds of the regulars as well as visitors to Central  
Park, in New York City, yet he also was known in a much wider circle,  
as a superb naturalist and teacher/mentor to so many who wanted to  
learn more in a wide array of subjects in natural history.  Nick was a  
birder and had found a great many rarities over the years, beginning  
in his younger days in the 1960's, and to the more recent years was  
perhaps the most trusted of birders in Central Park when a difficult  
identification presented itself. That knowledge, skill, patience and  
intelligence increasingly manifested in a deep & abiding love and  
serious interest in invertebrate life: insects in particular and  
perhaps beginning with interest in lepidoptera (moths and  
butterflies), then odonata (dragonflies and damselflies), and in more  
recent years branching out to study of many "things with wings". These  
interests were backed by painstaking study and reading of the  
literature, and made known to so many others through Nick's generosity  
of spirit, sharing widely what he had learned with such effort and  
intensity. For some, who got to know him in that way, the experience  
was very nearly life-changing, or at a minimum, career-altering. He  
had the respect of many who were and are the experts in their  
respective fields in natural history study; he could speak with the  
authority of deep learning and experience on many subjects. It was  
also ~ all-importantly to many who got to know him ~ a simple joy to  
spend a few hours or more in the company of someone so dedicated and  
immersed in what he simply loved to do. His interests were all  
"amateur" (in the highest sense of that word, the root of which simply  
means, "to love") and his "day" job -actually an evening job- was at  
the Metropolitan Opera House in New York, where he was among the most  
senior of employees, with four decades there. It was during the days  
off, or before starting at the opera in the evenings, as well as  
during the generous summer break that that institution permits, that  
Nick got to "go out and play" as he would sometimes phrase it. In his  
younger days, he ventured out away from N.Y. City and would find flora  
(he was also a suberb and deeply learned botanist) and fauna of sorts  
that often was new to the locality, sometimes new to the county,  
perhaps even to the state where he found himself.  A day in the field  
with Nick was almost always a treasure-trove of discovery, with far  
more observation & interpretation of "things in nature" than many very  
talented naturalists normally are involved with. Where he went  
exploring, new delights and new understanding most often went too. It  
is sad to know that he left us, much too soon and early, yet so many  
have great memories and experiences as well as some furthering of both  
knowledge and enthusiasm in study of nature: he left on us an  
indelible imprint. In recent years, his favorite areas within Central  
Park were well-known, being the Turtle Pond & the Shakespeare Garden,  
although he also wandered through many other areas, and in years past,  
was amenable to visiting parks and preserves all around the city and  
the greater NYC metropolitan area. He also was such an avid reader  
that he would regularly have one of whatever books had recently been  
published in the field of nature study, so that it was not unusual  
that he might make mention of, say, the diversity of mammals to be  
found in China, or what odonates could be seen in some Central  
American locality, or what flora was possible to find on some  
particular remote ocean island.  In all of these and many more areas,  
he could speak about such as though he might have been there and  
studied in person, yet he had not - the readings he did took him  
around the world - and as much or more than most, he was able to speak  
on these subjects with an authority that impressed even those who had  
been, had studied and also knew a great deal on such subjects. He was  
in some ways, a throwback to an idea of a classical nature scholar,  
and he had only very recently begun to make use of this pervasive  
media and medium (i.e., the internet) for learning and  
communications.  Family, friends and acquaintances from all over will  
dearly miss him.

There is a family remembrance to take place today, in the part of the  
city where he grew up in Staten Island.  At some time in the future,  
perhaps in spring of the year, there will be a larger gathering in  
celebration and remembrance of this kind, truly generous, and much- 
loved man. His influence on a number of generations of students of  
nature is unfathomable - and ongoing.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
A little more on Nick, in what many who knew him will immediately find  
so familiar and indicating his irresistible enthusiasm:

 From "Season at the Point: The Birds and Birders of Cape May", © by  
Jack Connor (1991, Atlantic Monthly Press)  The setting is familiar to  
many, the hawk-watch platform at Cape May Point, at the southern tip  
of New Jersey. This account is from some years ago - as will be  
evident with such optics now easily available to focus closely on  
insects and anything else at close range. It was also a time when  
studying butterflies, dragonflies and other insects was very new to  
"birders" in N. America.

[from pages 107-109]:
        About noon an impromptu demo begins, this one conducted by a young  
man standing waist-deep in the small plot of goldenrod and asters to  
the right of the platform. "I've had eleven species of butterflies  
right in this patch since the sun broke through," he tells the birders  
standing above him at the railing, then reads from his notebook: "Gray  
hairstreak, eastern tailed-blue, white-M hairstreak, buckeye, orange  
sulphur, cabbage white, variegated fritillary, pearl crescent,  
American painted lady, sachem, and least skipper." He is Nick Wagerik  
from New York City. A magnifying glass hangs from a string looped  
around his binoculars. He steps slowly from one plant to the next,  
touching the stalks below the white and gold flowers as carefully as a  
hothouse gardener inspecting orchids.
        "What's that small one there?" asks a hawkwatcher from the platform.  
"Sort of rust colored."
        "That's a least skipper…. There's an American painted lady…. There's  
a pair of least skippers mating…. There's a buckeye…. There's an  
ailanthus webworm moth."
        "Moths fly in daytime?"
        "Oh yeah. There are so many moths; lots of them are diurnal. Birders  
think identifying fall warblers is hard.  Just look at the Peterson  
moth book sometime."
        "Here's a gray hairstreak," Wagerik says, pointing to a butterfly the  
size of a nickel with a dot of orange flame at its rear end the size  
of a match head.  "See the little tails on the hindwings? They're not  
really tails.  It's thought they mimic antennae, to draw predators to  
the wrong end. See how it's rubbing them back and forth?  You find  
them sometimes with those little false tails missing. The bird went  
for the wrong end, and the butterfly flew away in the other direction."
        A dozen birders are now leaning over the railing, several struggling  
to aim their binoculars where Wagerik points. "Last June when the  
birds were slow," says one woman, "I thought I'd try to learn the  
flowers and insects."
        "Good for you. You'll never concentrate on birds the same way. Birds  
got me started too. But now I'm really into insects, not just  
butterflies and moths. Dragonflies, ants, wasps. I love wasps."
        "But where do the butterflies go when the sun isn't out?"
        Wagerik laughs. "They disappear…. Look! Here's a gray hairstreak with  
part of its hindwing eaten off!  That's what I was talking about. A  
bird probably got him."
        At this, four birders hurry down the ramp to join Wagerk in the  
weeds. He hands the first his magnifying glass, and she bends close to  
look, then passes the lens to the birder behind her.
        "There are just about as many butterflies in North America as birds,"  
says Wagerik, addressing the birders still on the platform. "Seven  
hundred and fifty species or so. Butterflies migrate too, and so do a  
lot of other insects - the green darner, the heroic darner. In England  
they get Monarch butterflies that have crossed the Atlantic- here's a  
white-M hairstreak!"
        A middle-aged man in a Phillies cap high-steps over quickly, takes  
the magnifying glass Wagerik hands him, turns his cap around backward,  
and bends close. The M is a chalk-white pin scratch on the underside  
of the insect's tiny gray wing.  "Lovely!" he says, "I guess that's a  
lifer for me."
        Others climb down to lean over. Wagerik loops his magnifying glass  
off his binoculars and passes it around. Ten birders have now joined  
him in the patch, wading through he weeds, crouching to turn over  
leaves, and pointing to butterflies as they swirl into the air,  
flashing their colors like flakes of confetti.
        "Cape May is just as famous among butterfly watchers as it is among  
birders," Wagerik tells them. "Southerly breezes blow southern  
butterflies up here just as they bring southern birds after they've  
finished nesting. but you need the right winds, and it's like birds:  
you can never predict it."
        He looks over his shoulder in the direction of Delaware. "I'm still  
waiting for the big push."

For far more on Nick Wagerik's activities with insect life and more,  
in a place he so often frequented and among many friends, see Marie  
Winn's "Central Park in the Dark: More Mysteries of Urban  
Wildlife" (2008, Farrar, Strauss & Giroux, and [paper] 2009, Picador).  
Marie Winn's 'Central Park Nature News website/blog also has hundreds  
of entries archived that include Nick's many years of finding &/or  
identifying all manner of things in Central Park. Also, a good friend  
and colleague-in-nature of Nick's, Ed Lam, has co-authored checklists  
of both butterflies and odonates seen in Central Park, and those  
checklists can be read via Ed Lam's website. Nick was most definitely  
instrumental in bringing into focus Ed's first interests in odonates,  
and his current study and forthcoming field guide to the dragonflies  
of North America, as well as his acclaimed field guide to damselflies.
_______________________________________
Dear Nick, rest in peace.  You made a difference!

Tom Fiore,
Manhattan
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