12 On the trail of vanishing birds 



The day came when the young night herons had hatched and 

 were large enough to be banded. Fred and I had worked out a 

 complicated method of individualizing each young heron by plac- 

 ing a series of colored bands on their legs. The colors were so 

 arranged, according to a system that Fred had devised, that each 

 youngster could be identified on sight later on a great advantage 

 to anyone interested in subsequent details of its life history, as we 

 were. So on this particular morning, somewhere on the nether side 

 of four o'clock, I stole from my house and set off on my bike into 

 the inky predawn blackness. And over the handlebars was slung a 

 large sack containing notebooks, pencils, binoculars, pliers, and 

 several hundred celluloid and aluminium bands, gathered together 

 in strings according to color and number sequence. 



I didn't know it at the time, but a gentleman referred to by the 

 press as a "cat burglar" had been operating in that district for 

 some weeks. The local police were determined to catch him. As 

 I pedaled along, my sack over the handlebars and a faint spring 

 breeze in my face, I was suddenly startled by a blinding light that 

 was being directed straight at me. At the same instant a heavy 

 voice shouted sternly, "Get off that bike wit' yer hands up!" Not 

 understanding, I did as I was told. Behind the searchlight, which 

 was attached to a prowl car parked along the road, were two burly 

 policemen, just finishing a long and, up to this point, unproductive 

 vigil. But as they came cautiously toward me and saw that bag 

 they were sure they had at last caught the cat burglar. 



"Wha's in that bag?" asked the first policeman. I began to see 

 what they were aiming at, but I couldn't help grinning. "I don't 

 mean to be funnny," I said, "but if I told you you'd never believe 

 me!" Without a word the second policeman picked up the sack 

 and dumped its entire contents in the dust of the road. "An' what 

 th' hell," the poor man groaned, "is all this?" So I told them, 

 without too much detail, but just enough to show beyond ques- 

 tion that such things were possible. Utterly disgusted, they put 

 away their guns and motioned me to gather up my possessions and 

 move on. And as I started off the first one shouted, "An' see thatcha 

 get a lamp fer that bike or I'll pull yuh in, so help me!" 



