226 On the trail of vanishing birds 



an open brule that is roughly one-half by one-quarter mile in 

 extent. On the aerial photograph it shows up as a slightly ovate 

 area that appears darker than the surrounding patchwork of 

 irregularly shaped ponds and small lakes. Actually it is a burned- 

 over region and, as the photographs were ten years old, the fire 

 may have swept through here as much as fifteen or twenty years 

 ago. Only the dead skeletons of black spruce and tamarack re- 

 main, many of them prostrate on the ground, others still standing, 

 naked and bereaved-looking. The ground itself is an uneven, un- 

 certain carpet of mosses and lichens, wet and boggy in the de- 

 pressions. That afternoon it was hot and windswept, and in- 

 finitely dreary. To the east the marsh-bordered curves of the 

 upper Sass must have stopped the fire in that direction, and on 

 the other borders the ground falls off rather steeply into a dis- 

 organized maze of shallow ponds and damp thickets of dwarf 

 birch, willows, scraggly black spruce, and small twisted tamaracks, 

 much of it too thoroughly soaked to burn with any prolonged 

 enthusiasm. As we needed both shelter and drinking water we 

 set up our tent as close to the river as the wetness of the ground 

 permitted, in the dubious shade of a half-dozen live spruce. When 

 everything was in order we settled back, too weary to feel any par- 

 ticular elation. We wanted nothing more at the moment but 

 sleep. 



The next morning, June 24, we made a tentative thrust in the 

 direction of the crane ponds. Plodding and slogging through the 

 wholly unexpected thickets, we found that visibility was often cut 

 to little more than a hundred feet. Sometimes we came up to a 

 small pond that had remained hidden until we were within fifty 

 feet of it. With aerial photos in hand we attempted to match 

 the outlines of ponds with some of those in the prints. At first 

 it seemed an impossible task under conditions as we found them, 

 but we kept trying. 



Suddenly, straight ahead of us we saw a flash of something white, 

 and then a strikingly familiar outline. It was a whooping crane, 

 standing with head and neck upthrust, silent and alert. Then a 

 second bird appeared. It was an incredible stroke of luck! Seeking 

 the cover of the nearest thicket, we walked toward them as 



