The Birds’ Revenge

Pheasants, part II.

After all that writing I did about the pheasants, and my great-grandmother Rose chasing one around the backyard, the most unexpected of clarifications came though from my dad and his sisters. 

There were two pheasants.

The one that graced the china hutch, which I remember seeing as a child, was a gift. The one from family lore, which met its end in the backyard, actually hit the house and was dispatched rather than hunted. Two different birds who both happened to be pheasants.

The truth is where our stories cross.

****

My dad (the oldest): FYI, I remember the pheasant, flying into the second bedroom window on the lower level. My grandmother went outside to see if someone threw something at the house. She found the pheasant and wrung its neck.

I don’t think this was the same one as in the house. She would have plucked it to cook it, so it couldn’t be taxidermied.

Rose (middle, also called Ginger): The pheasant that was taxidermied was given to them by someone. That is what I was told by Grandma.

Dad: When the pheasant hit, there were only two undeveloped lots in the area. One was next door to the Markulin house. The boys used to play Army over there in the jungle. Bluegrass, trees and bushes nothing really open enough to support pheasants

Rose: So, what year did the pheasant hit the house?

Dad: Sometime between ‘55 and ‘59. I’d guess ‘57? Based on my recollection of how old I was.

Janice (the youngest): It was finally sold to someone who wanted it for their den. This was done when Ginger and I had their household belongings up for sale. I really wanted to keep it, but kept telling myself I didn’t need a stuffed bird. 

As a child I liked to stroke part of its neck feathers as they were small, soft and beautiful blues and greens.  The story I heard about the broom pheasant is that it was eaten. Someone had given her the stuffed one. I handled it a lot, because that’s the kind of rotten grandchild I was, and found a small hole in the neck, which I assumed was leftover from a gunshot. But who knows.

The last time we toured the old neighborhood … We were at the site of the old Greenfield Elementary School. Half the building was standing and half was gone. I was just sitting there to take photos when I saw the head of a pheasant above a field of wild grasses. I got out of the car and saw another pheasant. And another. And another. 

I had an immediate image in my head of wild grasses in the area outside the Hull St. house, with pheasants. I had to laugh because it felt like the pheasant won and outlived Grandma and reclaimed their territory.

It was funny. But it was cool seeing the neighborhood in that state, reverting back to what it looked like probably when the area was being built up. Grasses, fields, trees, and pheasants.


© 2026 Tori Brovet/All rights reserved. Email me at GraveyardSnoop + gmail

Hello New Readers!

Some weeks ago I was contacted about doing an interview for the podcast “A Study of Strange.” The subject is Cora Stallman, the woman who was found in the cistern (or was she…?), and the subject of many of my blog posts. I spent a very enjoyable hour talking to host Michael May about Cora and her mysteries. Hear for yourself!

If you’re new to my blog because of that, welcome welcome!

I write about people that I find in graveyards, and sometimes other places. Part of my deal is that I’m really taken with the idea that people who lived well before the internet now have a digital footprint. I put those digitized references together with other records, to come up with a picture of someone’s life.

All the Cora pages are here. There are a lot of them.

You can also read about:

Enjoy!

Everybody’s So Creative: Thoughts on Self-Invention in Genealogy

Identity, alias, and personal invention.

I.

If you’re looking for excellent watchable genealogy how-to videos, you would be hard-pressed to find better than Jen Shaffer, the Formidable Genealogist. We’ve never been introduced, but for some time I’ve been watching her do the good work her job requires…and get unwarranted grief for it.

Earlier this spring she debunked the popular myth about immigrants’ surnames being forcibly changed at Ellis Island. (And yes, it’s a myth; I’m not entertaining a debate.) Many families have this legend: Your flatcap-wearing great-great grandpa walked off the boat in New York and told them he was Wiśniowiecki or Kovačević or Bellincioni. But then an evil immigration officer changed Grandpa’s name to something “more American”—Weck, Kovak, Bello, etc. Poor Grandpa didn’t even have a choice.

Continue reading “Everybody’s So Creative: Thoughts on Self-Invention in Genealogy”

17210 Hull Street: Rose’s Story (3)

It’s time to talk about my complicated, resilient, frustrating, singular great-grandmother Rose.

1. The Pheasant

This time, the path to my great-grandmother’s long-gone garden in Detroit starts at mine in Chicago.

We are blessed to have a city home with a large backyard, and a neighbor who keeps it filled with plants and flowers. We also have a kitchen door with four little windows, perfect for enjoying the whole view of the yard and the alleyscape beyond.

One day last year I was at the door, when I saw a brown rabbit in the garden bed. This happens a lot in the city. We two were having a quiet moment—me the hidden watcher, while this unaware bunny hopped between the dahlia stalks.

And then I thought: I bet the pheasant happened like this.

Continue reading “17210 Hull Street: Rose’s Story (3)”

Candy/Baseball/Alcohol: Missed Bunts, Dropped Balls

10 Days Out From My Brooklyn Genealogy Trip

Every day, my Brooklyn genealogy adventure inches closer. The Google Map is primed and bristling. I have a color-coded schedule that would impress any cruise director. I no longer have to scroll down on the Asana calendar to see the dates—they’re right there, reminding me of what I haven’t gotten done yet.

Real and present life has required my attention, as always. I caught two colds and broke a dental crown, so it’s been a real fun time. My research has thus been a bit sidelined. But the good news is that I got an awful lot of planning done early, and the work now is all online. It’s been hours of internet searches, trying to scoop up every bit of digital info I can now, so that my in-person experience is as good as I can make it. 

Subbing in for Weinpahl: Weinpahls

One result of all those searches: I’m starting to think that my great-great uncle Gus Weinpahl never played pro baseball in Brooklyn. I can’t find anything that supports the newspaper article that claimed he played for the Brooklyn Bridegrooms. I can only find mentions of semi-pro and club ball. Ah well. 

However, the upside is that all those newspaper searches for him reminded me of all the other Weinpahl mentions I hadn’t spent a lot of time on: Legal notices. 

My family kept their lawyers BUSY. This is a list of land transfers and other legal events involving the Weinpahls, over 8 years.

I already know that some of these records are in Albany or no longer available. But some others might be in Brooklyn. And putting these events in a timeline is helping me understand some things. I’d call that a win.

Swing and a Miss

Despite my efforts, the goal of finding experts to talk to is just not panning out. Cold calls are always going to be iffy; I get it. So I’m moving on from that goal. I will do as best I can to get as informed as I can some other way.

Next Up

Last night I talked out my in-person research strategy with my husband (ex-librarian). He helped me divide it:

  • Industry research (candy/baseball/alcohol); and
  • personal research (names of individuals and the associations/orgs they’re connected to).

So when I show up at a library or museum, my search can start from one of those two angles and expand from there. This should keep me from being overwhelmed, losing my place, and giving up and going to get a bagel.

(There will still be bagels. They’re on the map.) ☗


© 2025 Tori Brovet/All rights reserved. GraveyardSnoop — at — gmail.com.