National Geographic : 1970 May
my tripod. There was a clinking of the tripod's legs. The bull heard that-and charged. I dashed for a lean-to 25 feet away, as planned. Luckily he had farther to go because his antlers wouldn't let him pass between some of the trees. He galloped with such momentum that he shot 40 feet past the lean to, so I had time to hop inside. Between us there was only a wire screen that covered the front of the lean-to. He couldn't see me be cause the sunlight was reflected by the netting. But he could smell me, and so he stood out there, pawing, grunting, and tossing his head. I didn't make a sound. While jockeying for a look at me in the lean-to, he scratched his shoulders on the eaves. Finally he went back to his cow. When both were gone, Roy and I measured the height from the ground to the eaves. It was 8 feet 2 inches, and Roy said the moose must have weighed about 1,600 pounds. As I remember him, he was twice that big. "You don't care what you do to get a pic ture," said Dr. Arthur A. Allen when I told him about this. He was the first professor of ornithology in the United States. He had the widest experience in observing bird behavior in the field of anyone I ever knew, and I was privileged to learn from him. For seven years he let me join him for a month each summer in Ithaca, New York, where he had established the famous Cornell University Laboratory of Ornithology.* In winter Dr. Allen and his wife Elsa would visit us in the Everglades. There, as we watched an anhinga fishing, he gave me one of my most memorable lessons. Unlike ducks, anhingas have no oil in their feathers, and so they must dry out frequently - in my experience, every 15 minutes or so lest they become waterlogged. This anhinga kept coming back to the same rock to dry. She had just gone off again when a two-foot long soft-shelled turtle lumbered up on the rock. The turtle seemed to doze there in the sun. Doc said, "There'll be trouble when the *Dr. Allen wrote "Sapsucker Woods, Cornell Univer sity's Exciting New Bird Sanctuary," in the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC for April 1962. Whoops, my dear! Ina pre nuptial dance-a rite of spring a male whooping crane jumps as if in joy, then bows and pirouettes before his mate, left, and offspring. Parents intent on starting new families chase away the young birds, who join other whoopers for the journey north-a 2,500-mile flight from the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge in Texas to their nesting grounds in Canada's Wood Buffalo National Park. For seven months during 1958-59, Mr. Truslow and naturalist Robert Porter Allen haunted the Texas refuge, frustrated by rain in their efforts to photograph the last colony of whoop ing cranes on earth. Finally, at dawn on April 7, skies cleared. Mr. Truslow entered his blind and did a season's work in three hours.