706 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



spent several days. We had little difficulty 

 in recording the weird cries of the limpkin 

 and filming its habits, as well as those of the 

 snakebirds, ospreys, and Ward's herons. 



From the Wakulla River our expedition 

 proceeded to northern Louisiana, which we 

 found largely under water, with all but the 

 improved roads impassable to our trucks. 

 The stickiness of this Louisiana mud, or 

 "gumbo" as it is called, is exceeded only 

 by its hardness when it is thoroughly dried 

 out. Then it is as hard as stone, and in a 

 dry season one can drive anywhere ; but let 

 a little water fall upon it and one sinks in 

 it almost literally up to the knees. 



So here our search for the ivorybill was 

 greatly retarded, and had it not been for 

 the kind offices of our friend Mason Spen- 

 cer, the local representative in the State 

 Legislature, and J. J. Kuhn, a member of 

 the State Conservation Department, our 

 hunt would probably have been in vain. 



found: the elusive ivorybill 



As it happened, however, we spent but 

 three days tramping through the jungle be- 

 fore we not only located a pair of ivorybills 

 but actually found the nesting cavity 43 

 feet from the ground in a dead swamp 

 maple. Furthermore, the nest was only 

 seven miles from an improved road, which, 

 in an unbroken forest 18 miles wide and 30 

 miles long, was indeed fortunate. 



It was obviously impossible to consider 

 taking the sound truck, with its 1500 

 pounds of equipment, into the swamp, but 

 it was not beyond possibility to consider 

 getting in with a wagon and a few mules. 



The mayor and sheriff of the nearest town 

 where electricity was available entered into 

 the project with enthusiasm. They offered 

 us the jail and its courtyard in which to 

 dismantle the truck, unsolder all the con- 

 nections, and set up the equipment in a 

 wagon. 



We furnished much amusement to the 

 inmates of the jail as we worked, and 

 when word of our objective got around, 

 several of them volunteered confidentially 

 the information that they could show us 

 more of these "peckerwoods" if we could 

 arrange a leave of absence for them with 

 the jailer. 



It required a day to eviscerate the truck 

 and another day with four stalwart mules 

 to haul the wagon into the swamp and set 

 up our unique sound laboratory within 300 

 feet of the ivorybills' nest. 



Here we camped for eight days, piling 

 up palmetto fans on the roots of a giant 

 oak to keep our blankets out of the water. 

 Twenty-four-power binoculars, mounted on 

 a tripod and focused on the nest tree, kept 

 us informed of all the happenings, while 

 the sound mirror brought us the calls. We 

 christened our location "Camp Ephilus" in 

 honor of the scientific name of this rarest 

 North American bird — Campephilus prin- 

 cipalis (page 711). 



Gradually the birds became somewhat 

 accustomed to our presence and we dared 

 build a blind in the top of a rock elm on 

 a level with the nest and only twenty feet 

 away. It was a thrilling experience to sit 

 and listen to the conversations and watch 

 at such close range the exchange of cour- 

 tesies as these strikingly beautiful birds 

 changed places on the eggs (pages 712, 

 713). 



The brilliant scarlet crest of the male, 

 the gleaming yellow eye, the enormous 

 ivory-white bill, the glossy black plumage 

 with the snowy-white lines from the head 

 meeting in the glistening white of the wings, 

 are as vividly pictured in my mind as if I 

 were still sitting on that narrow board in 

 the tree-top, not daring to shift my weight 

 and feeling it gradually bifurcating me with 

 wedgelike efficiency. 



For five days we recorded all the hap- 

 penings at the nest, taking turns with the 

 glasses so that not a moment's observations 

 would be missed, hoping we might discover 

 some clue as to why the birds are appar- 

 ently unsuccessful in rearing young. 



But all the events were rather common- 

 place. Each morning at 6:30 the male bird 

 tapped on the inside of the nest hole; as he 

 grew more impatient he stuck his head out 

 and gave a few "yaps" or "kents" in no 

 uncertain tone, but he never left his post 

 until the female arrived. 



A little intimate conversation then en- 

 sued, and she entered, but before he took 

 off through the forest he often spent IS or 

 20 minutes arranging his plumage and 

 scratching as if he were infested with mites. 

 This, we later discovered, must have been 

 the case. 



MRS. IVORYBILL OUT ALL NIGHT 



During the day the two birds took turns 

 incubating in about two-hour shifts, but the 

 female always arranged it so that she could 

 leave for the night at 4:30 p. m. and not 

 return until the following morning at 6:30. 



