137 I learn of flamingos and hurricanes 



terly depressed, felt that from here on life would have very little 

 to offer him. 



It was his wife's idea to buy him a camera and get him interested 

 in photography. Bea gave him his first Leica, which can become 

 quite a complicated gadget when all of the accessories are added, 

 and, since they were living in Florida in the winter, photographing 

 birds was simply the next logical step. This year, at an age when 

 most men are giving up golf as too strenuous, Steve Briggs is on 

 his way across half the Pacific to Midway Island to photograph 

 the albatrosses! 



We began our many pleasant days in the field together in 

 Florida Bay, not far from my home. Steve wanted most of all to 

 get pictures of the roseate spoonbills, and he is still so fascinated 

 by the pink birds that he continues to return for more almost every 

 season. When he heard about my projected work with the 

 flamingos he proposed at once that we join forces. Thus it was 

 that in early May of 1950, with Charlie Brookfield, we made a 

 preliminary investigation in Yucatan, flying nonstop from Miami 

 in a DC-3. Little seemed to be known about the Yucatan flamingos 

 at that time, and it was an exceptional opportunity. It was likewise 

 one of the few bright spots in a year that was otherwise a difficult 

 one for me. We located the main flock still gathered in their winter 

 quarters in the Ria de Celestun, and in the old city of Merida 

 we met Joaquin Roche, who has been of so much assistance to us 

 since in connection with our flamingo studies and protection 

 program in his country. 



It was just after our return from Yucatan that word reached me 

 of the imminent possibility of a hatching in the whooping-crane 

 enclosure on Aransas Refuge. I hurried to Texas and remained 

 there until after the tragic loss of little Rusty. 



Troubles have a way of coming all together. I can recall rather 

 vividly the growing and quite unreasonable aches and pains that 

 had been plaguing me during this period. A specialist in New 

 York said they came from "a slipped disk" and plastered a very 

 uncomfortable cast on my neck, which I threw overboard the first 

 time I had to turn my head to count whooping cranes from an 

 airplane. Finally, in October, I left the annual meeting of the 



