Elmer Byrnes

During my childhood at Point Iroquois I was firsthand witness to the faithful dedication of the keepers of the flame. I watched my father and his two assistants climb the 75 cast iron steps to the lantern room carrying large cans of kerosene to fuel the lamp. I saw them shovel tons of hard coal into the fog signal furnace which powered the steam whistle. I saw them fuel river buoys and range lights. I was always hovering around as they polished brass, painted and maintained the buildings and worked on the station grounds.

The first sign of Spring at the lighthouse was flocks of large, black, ragged-winged birds: squalling, squawking and squabbling against the blue March sky and white patches of snow. The crows had come back.