131 Rusty 



at this point, slowing and shortening his stride, using his wings as 

 a brake, arching his neck until it looked like that of a swan, and 

 coming to a rather abrupt but wholly dignified halt. I couldn't 

 avoid thinking of* Don Quixote charging the sheep. At times he 

 and Pete even looked alike! His mate, a younger bird and in finer 

 plumage, always seemed clean and neat, but Pete, from so much 

 chasing through the mud and water was usually dirty and ruffled- 

 looking. Often, after a series of exhausting chases, he walked back 

 to the vicinity of the nest dripping wet, and almost black under- 

 neath from the splashing mud. He was a game old warrior and did 

 the best he could. 



Unfortunately, it was not good enough. For several days both 

 birds had acted strangely, poking unnecessarily around the eggs 

 and getting on and off the nest more frequently than usual. Once 

 on the nest they stood up and sat down again in a restless routine. 

 Then, on the twenty-fourth day of incubation, both birds left the 

 nest together for the first time since incubation had begun, walked 

 blithely toward the open meadow, and danced. They then re- 

 tired to the salt flats. Investigation revealed that the eggs had been 

 smashed, quite clearly by the birds themselves. On examination, 

 it seemed evident that they had been infertile. 



All this proved to be too much for Pete, who was last seen alive 

 on the following July 21. Early the next morning loud calls were 

 heard from the enclosure, so loud that Russell, the clerk at head- 

 quarters, roused from his bed to listen. Getting dressed, he awoke 

 Julian Howard, who had succeeded Bud Keefer as refuge manager, 

 and together they went to the enclosure. It was Jo who had been 

 calling, standing alone on the open salt flats. Nearby they found 

 old Pete. He was lying on his back in shallow water, and he was 

 very dead. 



Julian's immediate reaction to this tragedy was to attempt the 

 capture of ''Crip," a whooper with an injured wing who had been 

 living by himself on the wintering marsh since he was first ob- 

 served by Olaf and myself in February, 1947. When this under- 

 taking had been approved a posse was organized and, in due 

 course, Crip was captured and placed in the enclosure with the 

 widowed Josephine. These two splendid birds became more than 



