24 TH E VATUl) UsBeO\Nt BB Uy La 
At ARANSAS: DEATH of aWHOOPER 
Oh, with bated breath we wait impatiently 
Poised, it seems on tiptoe, in the early morn 
For the big birds are in flight from their prairie; 
Shall we see again some young ones newly born? 
Look! In the vast reaches of a gray cloud sea 
One speck, and then more, flying above weather. 
Vaguely they appear, then growing rapidly 
Till we clearly see big birds in white feather. 
Good; they have come once more to their winter home 
Away from the reach of the cold norther’s hold 
Toa shore beside Gulf waters, edged by foam, 
Where weary wings rest in this their secure fold. 
So, their heralded return was safely made 
To the refuge thoughtful men had set aside; 
Whose strong desires to preserve wildlife had played 
Their part, the safety of the birds to provide. 
Wait — disturbance set upon this pleasant scene! 
What strange motive would enter a feathered breast— 
A transient pulse or a moot trait—would that mean 
It sends a wild bird truant from its safe rest? 
Crack! A loud report bursts sharply through the air 
And a whistling bullet speeds right on its mark! 
Could such devastation anyone repair? 
Not so; the death of the big white bird is stark. 
Yes, what dedicated men will strive to do 
Another sort with blasted gun brings to naught. 
It seems not right—for toil is long by those who 
Would our wildlife save—yet guns are quickly bought. 
As every year rolls round its destined way 
May we, each and all, determine and resolve 
That our own posterity, looking back, will say: 
‘‘Men then lived in whom was bred a love 
For the living Nature spared to us this day.’’ 
—Joe Dvorak 
EDITOR'S NOTE... 
Mr. Dvorak, life member of both the IAS and the Chicago Ornithological 
Society, wrote this poem for the Bulletin, and with it, he sends greetings 
to members of the Society. The Dvoraks now reside at 1720 Chapala St. 
Santa Barbara, Calif. 
