National Geographic : 1970 May
photograph so much fascinating fauna, to be seen if one had the patience. The anhinga, or snakebird, slipping quietly into the water; suddenly he un coils his long, slender neck, shooting his needle-sharp beak forward, skewer ing a fish (page 673). Or the osprey, diving in, and with his talons carrying off a fish-nose forward, like a torpedo.* I was thoroughly intrigued. Later that spring, when the heat began to beat down on the Everglades, we went north to Bonaventure Island, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, where the great white sea geese, or gannets, are as dense, in the words of a 16th-century explorer, "as any field or medow is of grasse" (pages 646-7). By now I knew it for sure-I would never want to go back to the office again. Taking pictures in the wild was the life for me, and Mill agreed. Dr. Craighead Suggests the GEOGRAPHIC As to my color slides, I thought some were pretty good, and I projected these for friends. One who saw them, Dr. John Craighead, a veteran contrib utor to the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC, told the magazine's editors in Wash ington, D. C., and they invited me to bring my slides to their offices. An office was the last place I now wanted to go to, even if only for a visit. On the other hand, I had grown up with the magazine, as had my father and grandfather; two of our grandsons are fifth-generation members of the National Geo graphic Society. Its people, I knew, were pioneers in color photography, and I could certainly benefit from their advice. Edwin L. (Buddy) Wisherd, then chief of the Society's photographic labo ratory, took one look and said, "Throw all these pictures away and start using the right film for your purpose." I asked what was wrong with my film. He brought out two similar slides of a woman's head, for me to examine with a five-power magnifying glass. The picture on the type of film I had been using melted into fuzziness. The other, on Kodachrome, was sharp. "The next thing to do," said Buddy, "is to throw out all this stuff. You're ready for better equipment." He took me to a camera store, and after three hours I had a new collection of lenses and gadgetry. I also had stimulating words of encouragement from Dr. Melville Bell Grosvenor, then the Society's President and Editor and now its Board Chairman and Editor-in-Chief. Mill and I headed back to Florida, where we had acquired a winter home just outside Everglades National Park, and settled down to work the elusive limpkins. These long-legged water birds get their name from their peculiar *Mr. Truslow photographed the bird's fishing techniques to illustrate "The Osprey, Endan gered World Citizen," by Roger Tory Peterson in the July 1969 GEOGRAPHIC. Amorous moose stands eyeball to eyeball with the naturalist-photographer, who surprised him and a cow in Isle Royale National Park in Lake Superior. The 1,600-pound male, attracted by the clink of a tripod, charged Mr. Truslow, who barely had time to scramble into a nearby campground lean-to. With only wire screening for concealment, he waited for 15 heart-pounding minutes while the enraged beast snorted and pawed the ground in front of him. Finally the cow diverted the bull's attention, and Mr. Truslow inched out the screen door, shooting pictures all the way-this one from only 34 feet. "I was so scared I felt there was a lead ball in my stomach," he recalls, "but I didn't get the shakes until it was all over." 644 Alces alces, shoulder height of this individual 8 feet, 2 inches KODACHROME © N.G.S.