49 The whoopers still dance 



semblance of such a creature. Over this frame I stretched and 

 sewed tightly a "skin" of heavy red canvas, which happened to be 

 a rust-red color that approximated the shade of the Santa Gertrudis 

 breed. Ears were made of folded pieces of canvas, properly shaped 

 and sewn in place. There was also a very convincing tail, made of 

 rope frayed out at the end and the remainder wrapped tightly in 

 canvas. The eyes, with what was intended to be a glowering or 

 baleful expression, were painted on, as was the nose, the line of the 

 mouth, assorted wrinkles in the neck, etc. Actually, as it turned 

 out, the expression of the eyes was quite demure and un-bull-like. 

 In fact, everyone came to refer to my artificial beast as a "cow," 

 and perhaps the eyes were the reason for this. To provide peep- 

 holes I cut openings in the "nostrils" and daubed their rims with 

 red paint for realism. I could stand upright in the forepart, and by 

 stooping slightly I could peer out through these apertures. In ad- 

 dition, there were wood handles fastened inside for picking the 

 whole thing up and carrying it when under way. Along the bottom 

 there were two wood shoes, or skids, on which the entire structure 

 rested. 



By the time it was completed I was quite enthusiastic about it. 

 I climbed inside and pranced around the driveway at headquarters. 

 Bud's old dog, which was half blind but had a lot of sense ordi- 

 narily, barked at me convincingly, and two of the workmen, driv- 

 ing up at that juncture, were pretty startled for a moment before 

 they burst out laughing. By then I was completely sold on the 

 whole idea and couldn't get it lashed on my truck and down "on 

 location" fast enough. 



When I had unloaded it at camp, with a family of whooping 

 cranes moving slowly across the salt flats in the background, I be- 

 gan to cool off. With the caution of one who has begun to doubt 

 his own judgment, I waited until almost dark and then carried the 

 thing out on the marsh. Just before dawn, I decided, I'd get in- 

 side and give it a try. 



Next morning, after a hasty cup of coffee, I waded across Camp 

 Pond in the semidarkness, located my red bull, and crawled in- 

 side. For the next three-quarters of an hour I crouched uncom- 

 fortably in the mud and water waiting for daylight, enthusiasm 



