Hope For Animals And Their World Part 4

Through trial and error, Tom and the Peregrine Fund staff learned how to breed the greatest number of birds in the shortest time. The program incorporated natural breeding by pairs of falcons, double- or even triple-clutching, and artificial insemination, with the resulting eggs hatched either by nesting peregrines or in incubators. Gradually they learned that success depended primarily on the age at which a bird entered captivity (older individuals seldom bred) and how the nestlings were handled. They found that it was best to raise chicks in groups and take them, at five weeks of age, to the hacking boxes that were being set up in suitable places throughout the country.

Phyllis Dague and Jim Weaver, in particular, played key roles throughout the program. "Those two ran the program at Cornell," Tom told me. "Phyllis did everything-secretary, accountant, fund-raiser, baby bird feeder, field a.s.sistant." For several years, Phyllis actually lived at Peregrine Palace since Tom felt that someone should be with the birds at all times. Initially there was not even a window in the place, and in Return of the Peregrine, Return of the Peregrine, Phyllis describes dark windy nights spent on her own, living in the Peregrine Fund's "office." Indeed, that office, despite its annual condemnation by fire marshals, was used by a small group of people to accomplish great things. Phyllis describes dark windy nights spent on her own, living in the Peregrine Fund's "office." Indeed, that office, despite its annual condemnation by fire marshals, was used by a small group of people to accomplish great things.

Jim Weaver was also recruited in the early days at Cornell. Tom told me that Jim had a wonderful talent for handling the birds and keeping them fit in captivity. Even more important, he was a great manager and great team leader, and he recruited a team of loyal and dedicated co-workers. One was Bill Burnham who, after years of working on the restoration program, eventually founded the World Center for Birds of Prey. He was president of the Peregrine Fund until his premature death in 2006 at the age of fifty-nine.

Peregrines in Love One of the things I have enjoyed when researching this story is the descriptions of the different peregrine personalities. I loved reading about a particularly feisty male in the Cornell breeding program named Sergeant Pepper. He terrorized rather than bonded with the females offered to him as mates. But then, after rejecting eight females in succession, "he fell in love with a little Latin lady from Chile," wrote Tom. The two birds immediately accepted each other. "They started courting and he began feeding her. And even though she came to us in the middle of her molt, she somehow accelerated her molt and came back into breeding condition that spring. And they produced a lot of young every year after that."

Artificial insemination, or AI, is considered a necessary tool only when a female refuses to accept a male's courts.h.i.+p-or when a male refuses to mate with any any female. Such a male was BC (Beer Can), who was collected from the wild when he was two days old. BC was hand-reared and imprinted on humans, and he utterly rejected females. When he became part of the breeding program, therefore, he had to become a s.e.m.e.n provider for AI, and William Heinrich was given the job of "stripping" BC by hand. This was stressful for BC-"and very undignified!" said Heinrich. So when he heard that Les Boyd had designed a "copulation hat," he persuaded him to come and explain how it worked. female. Such a male was BC (Beer Can), who was collected from the wild when he was two days old. BC was hand-reared and imprinted on humans, and he utterly rejected females. When he became part of the breeding program, therefore, he had to become a s.e.m.e.n provider for AI, and William Heinrich was given the job of "stripping" BC by hand. This was stressful for BC-"and very undignified!" said Heinrich. So when he heard that Les Boyd had designed a "copulation hat," he persuaded him to come and explain how it worked.

Les told Heinrich to climb up to one of the nesting ledges in BC's chamber, carrying a dead bird. When BC flew to take the offering, Heinrich had to make eye contact while imitating the ee-chip ee-chip courts.h.i.+p call, then bow so that his head was level with the ledge-thus enabling BC to copulate with his hat. Heinrich accordingly courts.h.i.+p call, then bow so that his head was level with the ledge-thus enabling BC to copulate with his hat. Heinrich accordingly ee-chip ee-chiped and bowed: BC merely fed contentedly on the dead bird. Les instructed Heinrich to repeat the whole performance-from making eye contact to bowing-until BC showed some interest. When Heinrich was patiently doing this for the tenth time, Les could not stop himself from bursting out laughing-and Heinrich, thinking he had been made to look an idiot, climbed down and said he was quitting.

Propagation biologist Cal Sandfort patiently wearing a "copulation hat." According to Bill Heinrich, Cal has probably raised more captive-bred peregrines than anyone in the world. (Peregrine Fund File Photo) (Peregrine Fund File Photo) It took some time before a contrite Les was able to convince him that he had been really close to success and that his antics-while hilarious for a human observer-were far from absurd so far as BC was concerned! And so Heinrich carried on, repeating his "hilarious" courts.h.i.+p three times a day. And two days later, BC became the first voluntary s.e.m.e.n donor to the Peregrine Fund. From then on, he provided good-quality s.e.m.e.n several times a day, willingly-and perhaps joyfully! The results traveled far and wide across North America in the form of the scores of young birds he had, unknowingly, sired.

Return to the Skies In 1974, the Peregrine Fund sent the first four youngsters from the breeding program for experimental release into the wild. Two were fostered to a wild pair in Colorado that had lost one lot of eggs (due to thin sh.e.l.ls) and was incubating a second, dummy clutch (provided by the Peregrine Fund). These dummies were exchanged for the two captive-born chicks-they were accepted and raised successfully. The other two captive-bred chicks went to Heinz Meng, who had built a hacking facility on top of a ten-story tower on his university campus; they, too, fledged successfully. These were the first experimental releases of captive-born peregrine falcons in the United States.

The following year, sixteen chicks were sent to five hack sites in different places. Many of these young birds returned to the hack sites, or nearby, the following year. "When so many individuals came back in 1976," said Tom, "I was fairly confident that we could successfully release more, and that we had a good chance of bringing this species back."

During that period, Tom told me, "falconers from around the US lent me their peregrines to contribute to the breeding effort." They also shared hacking techniques long known to falconry, which proved invaluable for the reintroduction to the wild. Indeed, all releases were initially carried out by falconers, although, as the project became widely known, hundreds of volunteers from all walks of life supported them as "hack site attendants." This was a tough a.s.signment, involving camping out at hack sites for weeks, enduring heat, cold, and insects, not to mention close encounters with bears and moose, bites from rattlesnakes, and even wildfires. Yet almost all accepted the hards.h.i.+p uncomplainingly, and developed a deep respect for the birds whose future they were helping to a.s.sure. "A Peregrine owns the air like nothing else I have ever seen," wrote Janet Linthic.u.m, one of the hack site attendants. Many volunteers went on to careers in conservation biology.

In 1976, there was a high survival rate among the peregrines that were released in five states; by the 1980s, the Peregrine Fund was introducing the birds into more than a dozen states in the eastern US-from Maine to Georgia-and in several Rocky Mountain states. Of course the project had its critics. Some scientists were concerned that genetic purity was being lost since peregrines from Alaska were breeding with individuals from Canada, Mexico, South America, and Europe. However, as Tom points out, "There were no eastern stocks left in the US, and we used a combination of whatever we could find to replace them. However, the preponderance of the breeding stock came from North America."

Other critics feared that the introduced birds would not be able to adapt to their new environments because individuals from populations that migrated long distances were being used to build up new populations in the East, where peregrines had traditionally migrated only short distances. "But it all worked out okay," Tom said. "Some of the released birds from Arctic stock did make fall movements into South America, particularly in their first year." Others did not migrate at all, and none are known to have migrated to the Far North.

Total Restoration-Realizing a Dream In this chapter, I have so far concentrated on the struggles and eventual success of the program in the eastern United States-because it was there that peregrines had become completely extinct, and their recovery was due entirely to captive breeding and reintroduction. But as Tom Cade pointed out, the aim of the Peregrine Fund was to restore populations of these magnificent birds to pre-DDT numbers throughout their range in the United States. In fact, as Tom stressed, most of the recovery of the peregrine in North America occurred naturally, through increased survival and increased reproduction of residual populations after DDT was banned. The Arctic peregrine falcon (Falco peregrinus tundrius) recovered naturally, with no captive breeding or reintroductions. And peregrines recovered well on their own in most of the Southwest and Mexico. In the West-California, Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, Idaho, Was.h.i.+ngton, Montana, and Wyoming-natural recovery was boosted by releasing captive-bred birds.

The Peregrine Fund built a second breeding facility in Colorado in 1975, and under Jerry Craig, the program reached its target of producing more than a hundred birds per year by 1985. There was also a recovery program under Richard Fyfe for southern Canada. This covered the range of the anatum anatum subspecies, and only subspecies, and only anatum anatum peregrines were used for captive breeding. Taken together, Tom told me, these programs released nearly seven thousand young peregrines by hacking, fostering, and cross-fostering. peregrines were used for captive breeding. Taken together, Tom told me, these programs released nearly seven thousand young peregrines by hacking, fostering, and cross-fostering.

In Grat.i.tude In 1999, the Peregrine Fund held a celebration to mark the day that the peregrine was officially removed from the endangered species list, and more than a thousand people attended. In his address, Tom said: "My dear friends and colleagues, you and I have fought the good fight for the Peregrine, and we have won a great victory... . What we have accomplished together is truly phenomenal, and I believe that the recovery of the Peregrine will be recorded in the annals of conservation as a major event of the twentieth century. But, as we all know, conservation is a continual series of challenges-the fight for conservation never ends-and so I exhort you: press on to meet new challenges, for they surely await, and will always be waiting, for those who strive to keep the earth fit for life in all its many splendored forms."

Thanks to the successful reintroduction of the peregrine falcon in the major cities, Americans were given a new pastime. Shown here, an adult sitting on eggs on the 24th floor of the Union Central Building, Cincinnati, Ohio. (Ron Austing) (Ron Austing)SCARLETT AND RHETT: URBAN HEROESOne surprising development has helped to raise the peregrine's profile among the public: Falcons hacked from ledges high up on buildings in urban areas subsequently return to nest and raise their young there. The young birds were expected to move out and choose more natural places for their eyries. But there are advantages to city living, despite the occasional deaths from flying into power lines: The peregrines are safe from two of their natural enemies, the great horned owl and the golden eagle. In the Midwest, 70 percent of all nests in 2000 were in or near cities, many of them on power plants. Bridges are also favorite nesting structures. In Europe, too, wild peregrines have recently moved into cities. Over the years, individual falcons have proved of enormous interest to people. It is now common for a video monitor to be rigged up overlooking a peregrine nest so the public can keep up with the latest developments, and Web sites have proliferated. One nest has been of particular interest. Scarlett, daughter of Sergeant Pepper and his "little Latin love," was one of the second batch of captive-bred peregrines to be hacked from an old gunnery tower in Maryland. She turned up in 1978 on the thirty-third floor of 100 Light Street, an insurance building overlooking Baltimore Harbor. The following spring, she was observed displaying and giving courts.h.i.+p calls to her own reflection in the window of the same building. The Peregrine Fund-which keeps a close watch over its birds-persuaded the company to install a nest tray on the windowsill; they agreed provided it matched the building's facade. So Scarlett made a sc.r.a.pe and laid eggs on pink Spanish granite! She soon won a large and admiring public. Over the years, individual falcons have proved of enormous interest to people. It is now common for a video monitor to be rigged up overlooking a peregrine nest so the public can keep up with the latest developments, and Web sites have proliferated. One nest has been of particular interest. Scarlett, daughter of Sergeant Pepper and his "little Latin love," was one of the second batch of captive-bred peregrines to be hacked from an old gunnery tower in Maryland. She turned up in 1978 on the thirty-third floor of 100 Light Street, an insurance building overlooking Baltimore Harbor. The following spring, she was observed displaying and giving courts.h.i.+p calls to her own reflection in the window of the same building. The Peregrine Fund-which keeps a close watch over its birds-persuaded the company to install a nest tray on the windowsill; they agreed provided it matched the building's facade. So Scarlett made a sc.r.a.pe and laid eggs on pink Spanish granite! She soon won a large and admiring public. Two males were released nearby, but she ignored them both, and neither stayed. Nevertheless, she laid three (obviously infertile) eggs, which were replaced (by the Peregrine Fund) with two chicks, which she successfully raised. Over the next four breeding seasons, she continued to occupy her favorite window ledge. Various males were released nearby, but none was successful until 1980, when she bonded with Rhett. Their eggs were infertile, but they raised foster chicks successfully. Unfortunately, Rhett was poisoned by strychnine in a pigeon. The released male whom Scarlett chose the following year, Ashley, recovered from a bullet wound, but then apparently died in a collision with a vehicle on the Francis Scott Key Bridge. Two males were released nearby, but she ignored them both, and neither stayed. Nevertheless, she laid three (obviously infertile) eggs, which were replaced (by the Peregrine Fund) with two chicks, which she successfully raised. Over the next four breeding seasons, she continued to occupy her favorite window ledge. Various males were released nearby, but none was successful until 1980, when she bonded with Rhett. Their eggs were infertile, but they raised foster chicks successfully. Unfortunately, Rhett was poisoned by strychnine in a pigeon. The released male whom Scarlett chose the following year, Ashley, recovered from a bullet wound, but then apparently died in a collision with a vehicle on the Francis Scott Key Bridge. Meanwhile the public was following every step of Scarlett's love affairs, and there was general rejoicing when she found another young male for herself. He was named Beauregard, and the two of them raised young from her own eggs, fertile for the first time. Sadly, she then died of a ma.s.sive throat infection. But the tradition of nesting on the pink Spanish granite window ledge that Scarlett had started lived on: Beauregard attracted other mates, and the public was able to follow the destiny of other peregrines. Meanwhile the public was following every step of Scarlett's love affairs, and there was general rejoicing when she found another young male for herself. He was named Beauregard, and the two of them raised young from her own eggs, fertile for the first time. Sadly, she then died of a ma.s.sive throat infection. But the tradition of nesting on the pink Spanish granite window ledge that Scarlett had started lived on: Beauregard attracted other mates, and the public was able to follow the destiny of other peregrines. The story of Scarlett and her beaux did much to help the public understand the plight of the peregrines. They minded when her partners were poisoned or shot. They marveled that, during the six years that Scarlett made the window ledge her headquarters, she raised eighteen foster chicks and then her own four. And they are proud that, over a twenty-two-year period since Scarlett laid her first eggs, more than sixty young have fledged successfully from their man-made eyrie at the 100 Light Street building in Baltimore. The story of Scarlett and her beaux did much to help the public understand the plight of the peregrines. They minded when her partners were poisoned or shot. They marveled that, during the six years that Scarlett made the window ledge her headquarters, she raised eighteen foster chicks and then her own four. And they are proud that, over a twenty-two-year period since Scarlett laid her first eggs, more than sixty young have fledged successfully from their man-made eyrie at the 100 Light Street building in Baltimore.

American Burying Beetle (Nicrophorus america.n.u.s)

The American burying beetle is but one of the millions of insects and other invertebrates that play such a major, though seldom acknowledged, role in the maintenance of habitats and ecosystems. Most people simply lump them all into the category "creepy-crawlies" or "bugs." Some, such as b.u.t.terflies, are admired and loved for their beauty (though people tend to be less interested in or even repelled by their caterpillars). Others, such as spiders, are the inadvertent cause of fear-even terror. c.o.c.kroaches are loathed. Hundreds of species are persecuted for the role they play in damaging our food-such as the desert locust, which ravages crops across huge areas. And there are countless species such as mosquitoes, tsetse flies, fleas, and ticks that carry diseases that can devastate other creatures, including ourselves.

It is for these reasons that they have been attacked by farmers, gardeners, and governments. Unfortunately the weapons of choice have been chemical pesticides-and this has led to horrific damage of all too many ecosystems, either through directly killing countless life-forms in addition to the intended targets, or when poisoned insects are eaten by creatures higher up the food chain.

Yet for every species that harms us or our food, there are countless others that work away, sometimes unseen, for the good of the environment where they live. I first became aware of this when I was a small child, picking up every earthworm I found stranded on the road (as did Dr. Albert Schweitzer, by the way), and then learning about the valuable contribution they make to soil health. Millions of invertebrates provide food for species-including our own-higher up the food chain. In many places people feast on termites, locusts, and beetle larvae-even I have tasted these things! Bees pollinate the vast majority of our food crops, and the current devastation of hives in North America and Europe is causing real anxiety.

Lou Perrotti, coordinator for the American burying beetle for the a.s.sociation of Zoos and Aquariums, is a pa.s.sionate advocate for these beetles. Here he is checking a brood on Nantucket Island, Ma.s.sachusetts. "Somebody needs to be out there saving these critters," he told me (note the tattoo on his forearm). (Roger Williams Park Zoo) (Roger Williams Park Zoo) And what about the American burying beetle? What role, if any, does it play in our environment? This is what I learned about when, on March 18, 2007, I met with Lou Perrotti and Jack Mulvena of the Roger Williams Park Zoo in Providence, Rhode Island. Back in 1989, they told me, biologists had realized that the American burying beetle was fast declining, and it became one of just a few insect species to be listed under the Endangered Species Act. Then in 1993, the Roger Williams Park Zoo started a breeding program for the US Fish and Wildlife Service; in 2006, this beetle became the first insect species to be a.s.signed a Species Survival Plan. Lou is currently the coordinator for the American burying beetle for the a.s.sociation of Zoos and Aquariums.

As he began talking about the beetles, it was immediately apparent that they had the perfect spokesman! He is a man pa.s.sionately interested in insects and, he told me, has "loved all things creepy-crawly" since he was a child. Like so many of the other people I have talked to while gathering information for this book, Lou had parents who were understanding and supportive of his fascination with invertebrates. (And other creatures, too-they allowed him to breed boa constrictors when he was nine years old!) While we talked, Lou became increasingly animated. "Somebody needs to be out there saving these critters [the burying beetles]," he said. And that is just what he is doing. Let me share some of what I learned from him about these remarkable beetles. Most people have no idea how fascinating they are. Certainly I hadn't.

The American burying beetle is the largest member of its genus in North America-it is sometimes called the "giant carrion beetle." Once these beetles lived in forest and scrub gra.s.sland habitats-anyplace where there was carrion of a suitable size and soil suitable for burying it-in thirty-five states throughout temperate eastern North America. But by 1920, populations in the East had largely disappeared. By 1970 populations had also disappeared from Ontario, Kentucky, Ohio, and Missouri. And during the 1980s, the beetle declined rapidly throughout the American Midwest.

Today there are only seven places where they are known to exist-Block Island (Rhode Island), a single county in eastern Oklahoma, scattered populations in Arkansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, Kansas, and a recently discovered population on a military installation in Texas. One reason for the species' precipitous decline across its historical range, in addition to habitat loss and fragmentation, is possibly connected with the extinction of the pa.s.senger pigeon and the greatly reduced number of black-footed ferrets and prairie chickens, all of which provided carrion of ideal size.

Why We Need the Burying Beetle Let me return to the question I asked earlier-would the loss of the American burying beetle matter? The answer, stressed by Lou and Jack, is an emphatic yes. yes. They feed on carrion-the flesh of dead animals. Lou calls them "nature's most efficient recyclers" because they are responsible for recycling decaying animals back into the ecosystem. This returns nutrients to the earth, which stimulates the growth of plants. And by burying carca.s.ses underground, this industrious beetle helps keep flies and ants from reaching epidemic proportions. They feed on carrion-the flesh of dead animals. Lou calls them "nature's most efficient recyclers" because they are responsible for recycling decaying animals back into the ecosystem. This returns nutrients to the earth, which stimulates the growth of plants. And by burying carca.s.ses underground, this industrious beetle helps keep flies and ants from reaching epidemic proportions.

Lou explained how these beetles find their meals. They can "smell" carrion from as far away as two miles, by means of sensors on their antennae. Flying noisily through the dusk, a male usually reaches the carca.s.s he has located soon after dark. Then he-and any other males who have also discovered the feast-emits pheromones that are irresistible to females of the species. Thus, you'll likely find a number of beetles gathered around any one corpse. It seems they form pairs, and there may be a good deal of fighting until one couple claims the prize. They then cooperate to bury it. This can be hard work: A carca.s.s the size of a blue jay will take about twelve hours to bury.

Beetle Co-Parenting Once the carca.s.s is safely underground, the beetles strip it of feathers or hair and then coat it with a.n.a.l and oral secretions, which help to preserve the flesh that will serve as food for their young. Next, the couple consummates their pairing, and within a day the female lays the fertilized eggs in a small chamber that they have dug out close to the carca.s.s. Here both parents wait for their eggs to hatch, which will be in two or three days. Both mother and father carry the larvae to their "larder." And then-and this really blew my mind away-the young beetles will stroke the mandibles of their parents to entice feeding, and the adults will regurgitate food for their young. How absolutely amazing-an insect species in which mother and father care for their young together!

Usually, by the time the carca.s.s is safely underground, flies have already laid their eggs on it. These hatch quickly into hungry compet.i.tors for the young beetles. But help is close by: Riding on the bodies of the adult beetles are tiny orange mites that quickly climb onto the carca.s.s, where they feed on fly eggs and maggots. In about two weeks, the sated beetle larvae burrow into the soil to pupate, and the parents move on. As they do so, the orange mites hop back on board. The young beetles will emerge about forty-five days later.

Lou and his team have been very successful with their captive breeding program-by the end of 2006, more than three thousand beetles had been reared and released into the wild on Nantucket Island. The captive-bred females (each paired with a genetically suitable mate) are transported to the release site in plastic containers. These are placed in an Igloo cooler, since the beetles cannot survive undue heat. A second cooler is used to transport dead quail, which the beetles will use as the carrion for their young. With a chuckle, Lou told us, "I can be traveling on a ferry during the height of tourist season and will still have room around me due to the terrible smell coming from the coolers."

At the release site, holes have been pre-dug for the beetles. The dead quail are placed into the holes with floss tied to their feet and attached to a small orange flag to a.s.sist the recovery team with finding the buried carca.s.ses at a later date. The beetles are then released into the hole, where ideally they will realize that they have a jump start on the reproduction process! Lou said that Nantucket was chosen as a release site because, as with Block Island, there are no mammalian compet.i.tors present. After a while, though, birds such as crows and seagulls began to recognize that an orange flag represented a food source, and began to dig up the beetles' carrion, so the recovery team is now also placing a mesh screen over each brood to protect it.

Lou told me that he really enjoys teaching children about insects. We agreed that it does not take much to trigger their interest-children are naturally curious. And "creepy-crawlies," although they may elicit fear and horror, hold a real fascination for them. I told Lou I had spent hours as a child watching spiders, dragonflies, b.u.mblebees, and the like. My son was fascinated as a little boy to watch ants as they set out in an orderly column to raid a termite nest, and returned each bearing an unfortunate victim in its mandibles. And my sister's three-year-old grandson, after watching a snail crawling over the ground, suddenly placed it on the windowpane and rushed indoors to look through the gla.s.s, clearly fascinated and curious about the mechanism that enabled the creature to glide forward, as if by magic.

Unfortunately, Lou finds it much harder to interest adults in the efforts being made to save the American burying beetle. "So often the first question," he told me, "is 'Will it eat my garden?'" If only people would take the time to listen, retain the curiosity and wonder of childhood, how much richer their lives would be. Certainly during my short early-morning meeting with Lou and Jack, I had been transported to a different and utterly fascinating world, where giant insects nurture their young and tiny mites, in exchange for a free meal and a ride to the restaurant, rid their benefactors of their compet.i.tors.

After our visit, Lou sent me a beautiful print of an American burying beetle, its orange and black colors vivid and glowing. It is propped against the wall as I write, reminding me of all the magic of the natural world.

Crested Ibis (Nipponia nippon)

I first learned about the Chinese scientist Dr. Yongmei Xi, and her remarkably successful efforts to save the crested ibis from extinction, from George Archibald of the International Crane Foundation (ICF). He said these birds were among his favorites, and he even sent me photographs to show me how beautiful they are. Amazingly, two weeks after my conversation with George I was able to meet with Yongmei Xi herself while I was in Shanghai in 2007-what a privilege! While we drove from one locale to the next (there was no other time), Yongmei and I talked about these special birds and her love for them. first learned about the Chinese scientist Dr. Yongmei Xi, and her remarkably successful efforts to save the crested ibis from extinction, from George Archibald of the International Crane Foundation (ICF). He said these birds were among his favorites, and he even sent me photographs to show me how beautiful they are. Amazingly, two weeks after my conversation with George I was able to meet with Yongmei Xi herself while I was in Shanghai in 2007-what a privilege! While we drove from one locale to the next (there was no other time), Yongmei and I talked about these special birds and her love for them.

At one time, the crested ibis was plentiful in the wetlands of j.a.pan, China, Korea, and Siberia. By 1930, however, there were very few left: They had been relentlessly hunted, especially for their glorious feathers, but also because women believed that eating ibis would help to restore their strength after childbirth. By the end of World War II, in 1945, it was ascertained that the remaining populations had been almost exterminated throughout their range as a result of hunting, pesticide use, and habitat loss. Particularly disastrous was the draining, during the winter, of previously wet paddy fields to control the spread of snail-borne disease to humans.

It is interesting that ibis, over time, seem to have evolved a dependence on humans-they need the rice paddy habitat. They roost and breed in trees on the higher slopes, and are most at ease when there are humans living near the trees they select for nesting.

By 1978, the crested ibis was extinct in Korea. (George Archibald made a heroic effort to catch the last four-for captive breeding-in their wintering grounds in the Korean Demilitarized Zone. But his mission failed.) In 1981, the last five individuals remaining in j.a.pan were captured and taken to a breeding center-but they did not breed.

Yongmei Xi's pa.s.sion and determination helped prevent the extinction of this beautiful bird. She had this snapshot taken so she would have a picture of a crested ibis to take with her on a long journey. (Yongmei Xi) (Yongmei Xi) China Searches for the Last Ibis Meanwhile there was growing concern for the fate of the crested ibis in China. Dr. Liu Yen-zhou, of the Inst.i.tute of Zoology in Beijing, organized surveys to look for them in central China, but for the first three years the team saw no sign of the crested ibis. Then in 1981, they spotted a group of seven in the Tsinling Mountains, not far from the ancient capital Xian.

The Ministry of Forestry at once agreed to provide protection for these precious individuals-the last of their species. Farmers were paid not not to apply toxic chemicals to wet rice paddies, and as a result the habitat gradually improved. At the same time, they devised some innovative techniques to give the birds as much help as possible. By wrapping the trunks of nest trees with smooth plastic materials, predation from snakes was reduced. By putting nets under the nests, weak chicks evicted by stronger siblings could be either put back and given a second chance, or-if they were very weak (sometimes a chick was evicted a second time)-cared for in captivity. These birds would subsequently become part of a captive breeding program. to apply toxic chemicals to wet rice paddies, and as a result the habitat gradually improved. At the same time, they devised some innovative techniques to give the birds as much help as possible. By wrapping the trunks of nest trees with smooth plastic materials, predation from snakes was reduced. By putting nets under the nests, weak chicks evicted by stronger siblings could be either put back and given a second chance, or-if they were very weak (sometimes a chick was evicted a second time)-cared for in captivity. These birds would subsequently become part of a captive breeding program.

Breakthrough in Captivity As a result of all these measures, the wild population began to increase. But very slowly. Yongmei first studied the crested ibis in 1988. She told me that a pair of crested ibis in the wild has only one clutch each year; an average of two chicks survive. In captivity, however, Yongmei found that a pair can have two to three clutches from which an average of seven chicks survive. And so, in 1990, it was decided to start a breeding program, and by 2006 there were a total of four centers in China.

Yongmei, meanwhile, was becoming more and more familiar with these beautiful birds, and partly no doubt because of her empathy with them, she and her team were very successful in their breeding program. She tried to supply the captives, so far as possible, with a diet that included food items eaten in the wild-such as loach, a common small fish, which they find in the paddy fields. She told me how excited she had been when, for the first time, a pair of ibis who had been born in captivity managed to successfully raise their own chicks. Before this, the parents had sometimes destroyed their eggs or killed their chicks, and she had come to believe that this was because the enclosures were not suitable.

And so, in 2000, she constructed a large cage of green nylon on the slope of a mountain. It was surrounded by trees, and there were real trees growing inside. The breeding success in this enclosure provided the first evidence that parents could take care of their chicks in captivity if the conditions were to their liking.

While observing the captive birds, Yongmei noticed how they interacted with various wild birds who were attracted by the food. "When the wild birds land on the wire of the cage roof," she told me, "they call out to the captives, who return their calls." She believes that the wild birds envy the captives their plentiful supply of food-but she does not believe that the captives are satisfied with their mainly pellet diet. She thinks they long to fly up and away with the visitors when they leave.

Yongmei also told me about two of her young captive ibis, who were sent to the emperor of j.a.pan as a gift in 1999. Understanding them so well, she felt sure that they would be lonely in their new surroundings. Their natural food-loach-and the pair's original food container were sent with them to j.a.pan. Twigs were provided for the pair in the breeding season. They began to lay eggs, and eventually one of the eggs hatched. It was a male. The next year another female bird was sent to j.a.pan from China. Based on these three founder birds, a new ibis breeding program was established. In 2008, I was told, there were 107 captive crested ibis in j.a.pan.

Back to the Wild As of 2008, there were also about a thousand ibis in China-five hundred in the wild, and another five hundred in captivity-and there are plans to introduce some of the captives into the wild. A major effort is under way to restore their habitat in the Hanzhong Basin. The use of agricultural pesticides is strictly controlled, and a series of handmade reservoirs linked to a network of rivers will improve things for the birds, and for the rice farmers. Also, some gra.s.sland will be flooded. There is an education program in which people in ninety-one villages in the area are given information about the crested ibis and its habits.

Perhaps, one day, I shall be able to see this glorious bird in the wild. I am so grateful to George for sending me a beautiful photograph of a crested ibis in flight, and most of all for introducing me to Yongmei so that I could hear the remarkable story I have shared here from her own lips.

Whooping Crane (Grus americana)

There is something almost mystical about cranes. They are an ancient genus, and their voices, loud and wild, seem like echoes of the past. They are also elegant birds, with long legs, long necks, and long sharp beaks, all suiting them for the gra.s.slands and wetlands where they forage. There are many species of cranes in the world today: Almost all of them are endangered.

This chapter describes the Herculean efforts, by countless dedicated men and women, to save the whooping crane from extinction. They are the only cranes native to North America. Standing between four and five feet high, they are magnificent, with snowy white plumage except for a brilliant red cap on the top of their head, black facial markings, and black primaries clearly visible in flight. With their long spear-like beaks and fierce golden eyes, they can be formidable when protecting their young.

When Europeans first arrived in North America, it's estimated that whooping cranes numbered at least ten thousand. They wintered in the highlands of central Mexico and on the Gulf Coast of Texas and Louisiana, as well as the southeast Atlantic seaboard, including Delaware and the Chesapeake Bay. Their breeding grounds were many-throughout the central prairies of the United States and well into central Alberta, Canada. But by the end of the nineteenth century, migratory whooping cranes were no longer breeding anywhere in the US. And by 1930, they were no longer breeding on the Alberta prairies. In fact, no one knew where the last migrating birds were breeding, except that it was somewhere in Canada.

One nonmigratory flock of whooping cranes in Louisiana continued nesting there through the 1930s, but in 1940, when only thirteen birds remained, a hurricane scattered this remnant group, and though six survived, they were doomed. And by this time, fewer than thirty of the migrating whooping cranes were arriving in the fall in Texas (in the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge) from their unknown breeding grounds in the Canadian North. The days of the whooping crane seemed numbered, and most people felt that nothing could be done to save them.

George Archibald dancing with Gee Whiz, the only offspring of Tex, a famous female whooping crane that George patiently "courted" and bonded with in order to bring her into reproductive condition. (David Thompson / ICF) (David Thompson / ICF) But some were determined to try. Three organizations-the US Fish and Wildlife Service; its Canadian equivalent, the Canadian Wildlife Service; and the Audubon Society-collaborated in a desperate attempt to prevent the species from becoming extinct. First they needed to find out more about them. Most of what they learned was depressing: Cranes were being shot by hunters, or farmers who resented them as potentially destructive to their crops-one publicly vowed to "shoot the pesky things on sight." In 1953, only twenty-one cranes arrived in Texas.

As a last resort, the wildlife organizations launched an awareness campaign. The Whooping Crane Conservation a.s.sociation got involved and helped spread the word. They informed people along the migration route-so far as it was known-about the cranes, their history, and the current dire situation. And appealed for their help. It worked, and the shooting stopped. Meanwhile private citizens in the organization were lobbying to get governments to take action and provide the cranes with better legal protection.

In 1954, there was a breakthrough: Canadian Forestry Superintendent G. M. Wilson and his helicopter pilot, Don Landells, spotted two white birds with a cinnamon-colored chick in the boreal marshes and ponds of the remote Wood Buffalo National Park in northern Canada. They had discovered the last breeding grounds of the whooping cranes! The birds were migrating a staggering twenty-four hundred miles twice each year from northern Canada to Texas and back again.

Gradually, as a result of protective measures and the awareness campaign along the migration route, the tiny flock increased. In 1964, forty-two birds arrived in Texas, and the following year the number was even higher. But the situation was fragile. And so, in 1966, the Canadian Wildlife Service (CWS) and USFWS finally agreed to collaborate to establish a captive breeding program. Not everyone thought this was a good idea, but the two national wildlife agencies moved forward with their plan.

Meet Ernie Kuyt, Egg Thief!

Ernie Kuyt, whom I phoned on the recommendation of my friend Tom Mangelsen, was one of the first people brought in to work on the breeding scheme. During a long conversation, Ernie said that he had become involved with the whooping cranes by accident. CWS had needed a field biologist to help find the nests and safely transport surplus eggs for a captive breeding colony, and Ernie was the only one available.

A plan was formulated: Cranes normally lay two eggs, but typically rear only one chick-and often only one egg is actually viable. So whenever they found a nest with more than one egg, Ernie would test them. "It was crane biologist Rod Drewien," said Ernie, "who taught me how to test the viability of eggs at the nest by simply floating them briefly in lukewarm water." (I am familiar with that process-I tested every hen's egg before buying it in the early days in Tanzania!) If both eggs were good, Ernie took one of them. If a nest had only bad eggs, he would remove them and replace them with one of the good eggs he had collected from another nest. All the excess eggs he collected were sent to hatch at the Patuxent Wildlife Research Center in Maryland to start the captive breeding population.

Ernie Kuyt collecting one of the two eggs from a wild crane nest in Wood Buffalo National Park, Canada. He carried every precious egg-for captive breeding-in one of his thick wool socks. (Ernie Kuyt) (Ernie Kuyt) Ernie told me about the time he left the base on June 2, 1967, to collect the very first egg. "The Americans had designed a special Styrofoam case to carry each precious egg from nest to base," he said. "It was only as the helicopter was preparing to land that I realized I had forgotten the box!" They could not return because that would upset the time schedule-and the budget. Yet he remembered only too well the ominous memo from HQ that had warned: "You will agree that no slip-up is possible!" Much was at stake, and all eyes were on Ernie and his team.

Fortunately, knowing he would get his feet wet slogging through the marshes, Ernie had brought heavy wool socks along. Carefully, he lowered one of the two good eggs into a sock until it nestled gently in the toe. Carrying the sock by the cuff, Ernie transported the egg safely back to the waiting helicopter. "It worked so well that the fancy egg-case was never used," Ernie told me. "During my twenty-five years of crane work, I safely transported over four hundred eggs without damaging a single one-using thick wool socks!"

Stories from the Field Ernie told me a story about one pair of cranes, known as the Hippo Lake pair, which had built their nest near a lake shaped in the form of a hippopotamus. On one of his aerial surveys, Ernie noticed that their nest was empty. Several days later, he saw a single egg. But two days later, "the egg was gone, though one of the birds was still attending the nest." Eleven days later, on the day of an egg pickup, Ernie flew past the Hippo Lake nest one more time. The crane was incubating on the nest-but when she stood up, Ernie saw that the nest was still empty.

"The adult birds had been on the empty nest for almost two weeks! Were they telling us something?" When the biologists landed the chopper, Ernie put an egg in the nest that they had just collected from another nest. The Hippo Lake pair hatched that foster egg, and Ernie had the happy task of banding the chick before it fledged.

Whenever Ernie was on the ground, an aircraft circled overhead, monitoring the scene so they could warn him of nearby bears or moose. Once, as he approached a nest, the Cessna made a shallow dive overhead-their code for danger-and he saw a black bear moving toward him. Luckily, it was not fully grown-probably two or three years old. "I picked up a dry tamarack stick and began beating it against a tree, at the same time yelling at the top of my voice," said Ernie. The bear, about thirty yards away, looked at him, then turned and ran off. The eggs in the nearby nest were so close to hatching that the distinctive peeping sounds of a chick were clearly audible. If Ernie had not driven it away, the bear would almost certainly have found and raided the nest.

Tracking the Migration Ernie not only collected eggs, but also followed the cranes in a Cessna 206 when they migrated, radio-tracking them and collecting valuable new information. One fall he invited Tom Mangelsen to join him, to doc.u.ment the journey with film and stills, and to keep track of the cranes visually while Ernie was busy plotting the route, and the pilot was concentrating on flying the plane.

Migrating cranes use the thermals to spiral up and then glide seemingly effortlessly on their great wings. "On days of bad weather with headwinds, they would fly little or not at all," Tom told me, "but on good days they could cover four hundred miles or more." Fortunately the whooping cranes, with their white plumage and huge wingspan, were relatively easy to see. "We were able to keep visual contact with them nearly 50 percent of the time," said Tom, "and we could pick up the radio signals transmitted by the birds within a radius of twenty-five to a hundred miles.

"Watching the cranes flying with such grace against a limitless sky and endless landscape," Tom told me, "was the most inspiring event of my life."

Ernie felt the same. He told me, "The ability and opportunity to migrate with the cranes ... has been the highlight of my twenty-five-year study."

One Flock Is Too Fragile While Ernie and others were protecting the Wood Buffalo/Aransas flock, crane biologists and conservationists on the US and Canadian Whooping Crane Recovery Teams were planning other initiatives. The single remaining wild flock was just too fragile: If disease or disaster struck, it could be annihilated just as the Louisiana flock had been.

The first plan involved placing whooper eggs in the nests of sandhill cranes nesting in Idaho. This initiative failed because, while the fostered chicks did indeed follow the sandhills to New Mexico, as hoped, they never courted and mated with their own species. A young crane, like many bird species, becomes imprinted on its parents soon after hatching, and if at this critical time a bird of the same species is not available, the chick will become imprinted on almost any moving object. Unfortunately, these whoopers were imprinted on the sandhills and courted the sandhills when they reached maturity.

Meanwhile a number of experts, including George Archibald, co-founder of the International Crane Foundation, believed they should try to establish a nonmigratory flock in Florida, in the vast area of Kissimmee. In 1993, the first group of captive-bred crane chicks arrived there for release into the wild. And after that, every year until 2005, further chicks were sent to boost numbers. These birds formed pair bonds, established territories, and built nests just like wild birds. But there were many problems-especially predation by bobcats. In 2005, despite all the hard work and the great hopes, it was decided to discontinue the release of captive-born chicks, and the outlook for the future of the few surviving Florida cranes is bleak.

Cranes, Men, and Their Flying Machines Although things were going well with the one migratory flock, two costly attempts to establish new flocks had failed. There was still a need to establish a new migratory flock-and an innovative idea was being suggested. What if it were possible to teach young cranes to follow an ultralight aircraft? At a conference in California, I heard a talk about this by Bill Lishman, an inspired and pa.s.sionate naturalist. Eventually he had partnered with Joe Duff, an ex-businessman, and working with non-endangered Canada geese, the two men gradually perfected the technique-which was introduced to the public in the popular movie Fly Away Home. Fly Away Home.

During the late 1990s, after working with sandhill cranes, Bill and Joe presented their results at the annual Canadian/US Whooping Crane Recovery Team meetings, hoping to convince the team to use this method for whooping cranes-but it took five years before the plan was approved (many felt that Bill and Joe were only interested in making another movie!). Operation Migration was born in 1999 with the goal of teaching young captive-born whooping cranes to fly from Wisconsin to Florida.

Wearing my crane suit before flying in an ultralight with Joe. Operation Migration trains captive-bred cranes to migrate from Wisconsin to Florida by following an ultralight "parent." ( ( www.operationmigration.org) Operation Migration In 2006, I received an invitation from Joe-would I like to experience, firsthand, the training of the whooping cranes? Fly in an ultralight? My schedule was packed, but this was something I could not refuse and I freed up two days during my US/Canada fall tour. Two days I shall never forget.

Joe Duff and operations manager Liz Condie met me at the Madison airport in Wisconsin. It rained, quietly, throughout the one-hour drive to the trailer camp at the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge. And every time I woke during the night, I heard rain pattering on the trailer's metal roof. It seemed unlikely the weather conditions would allow us to fly in the morning.

Indeed, the morning weather was unsuitable, so instead I met more of the team and learned about the program. Earlier in the year, eighteen cranes, about forty-five days old, had arrived from Patuxent Wildlife Research Center. In order to prevent these whooper chicks from imprinting on their human foster parents, those who rear and train them for release wear white gown-like costumes, black rubber boots, and helmets with visors that hide their eyes. They carry tape recorders that play the brood calls of parent cranes and the sound of the ultralight that the chicks will learn to follow. In one hand, the handler holds a puppet looking like an adult crane's head and neck, complete with gold eyes, long dark bill, and distinctive red crown. The sleeve of the costume, which covers the hand and arm, blends into the long white neck of the puppet (a metal tube covered by white cloth). There is grain in the "neck" that can be released through a hole as the puppet pecks the ground.

In Necedah, during the summer months preceding the fall migration, the Operation Migration crew of pilots, biologist, veterinarian, and interns continues the education of the young birds that was started in earliest chick-hood at Patuxent.

That same morning, I also visited the adolescent cranes in their closed-in pen, half of which is in shallow water. They were beautiful golden-and-white feathered youngsters. I put on one of the crane suits, borrowed a crane puppet head, and followed Joe and two other pilots, Brooke and Chris, to the pen, stepping through a pan of disinfectant on the way. I could not believe I was actually taking part in this extraordinary and inspirational project, and felt tears stinging my eyes. Once we were within earshot of the cranes, there was no more talking.

The young cranes, who had learned to live together as flock members, were as tall as adults but still wore the white-and-golden plumage of adolescence. Their long, black-tipped wings had been strengthened by their daily training flights, and they were almost ready to set out on their twelve-hundred-mile journey to Florida. They were very curious and investigated everything that caught their fancy, gently probing with their beaks. From time to time, one of my fellow human cranes approached me with a grape; I opened the beak of my puppet with a lever, took hold of the fruit, and offered it to one of the cranes. They love grapes.

There was a sense of mystery, the feeling that I was in the presence of ancient bird wisdom, and connected with an other-than-self other-than-self life force. My humanity was diminished. And then one of the birds pulled at the tip of my "wing," while a second prodded my boots and a third had a go at the felt of the puppet head so that I had to move it away and engage him-or her-beak-to-beak. I had no sense of the pa.s.sing of time, and much too soon we had to leave them. life force. My humanity was diminished. And then one of the birds pulled at the tip of my "wing," while a second prodded my boots and a third had a go at the felt of the puppet head so that I had to move it away and engage him-or her-beak-to-beak. I had no sense of the pa.s.sing of time, and much too soon we had to leave them.

Flying with Cranes When I looked outside at six the next morning, the sky was clear, and there was almost no wind. A perfect day for flying! At the hangar, I donned my white crane costume; then came earphones, and finally the helmet. The pilots wheeled the ultralights out of their hangar, and I climbed into the tiny pa.s.senger seat in the s.p.a.ce behind Joe. After we belted up, he attached my headphones to the system so I could hear him, pulled the cord to start the engine, taxied to the runway-and we took off.

The golden and pale blue morning air was all around, rus.h.i.+ng past us, exhilarating. For the first time ever I felt that I was truly flying, part of the air, and the clouds, and the sky. Spread out over the waking landscape, the other three ultralights flew toward the landing strip adjoining the cranes' pen. There we all touched down and the cranes were let out to join their strangely a.s.sorted parent figures-disguised humans and unlikely flying machines! One of the four pilots, Chris, taxied carefully through the eighteen cranes and about seven of them followed, running after the plane; when he took off, so did they. Up they flew, parent ultralight and its little following. The remaining youngsters on the ground milled around pilot Brooke, making it very hard for him to take off, but he made it with all but one of them flying up after him. He flew in a big circle and swooped back past the remaining crane, which then decided to follow.

Soon we were all in the air. Because of my extra weight, Joe could not reduce his speed sufficiently to have the cranes actually follow us-but we were often very close to them. The pilots communicate with one another, so they can turn to pick up a crane that has flown off on its own, or know when two or three more join their little flock. One of the cranes absolutely got the hang of gliding in the slipstream of the ultralight he was following, and scarcely had to flap his wings.

It is hard for me to describe the emotions that went through me as I sat there behind Joe. I felt so much part of the whole scene, flying in that frail little machine above the wildlife refuge, the other ultralights like huge birds, each with its cranes strung out behind, the glory of the morning with its after-rain freshness and rising sun and golden clouds. The reflection of plane and cranes shone in the calm surface of the water below. I developed a new feeling for the cranes themselves on an almost spiritual level of connectedness.

I wanted to go on flying forever, suspended between heaven and earth with those exquisite young whooping cranes. If only the engine had been silent, the experience would have been unearthly and I could have believed myself a bird.

I called Joe regularly during the long weeks of the migration-it was shocking how many flying days were lost because of bad weather. At last came the news I had been waiting for: All the birds had made it to Florida. After a journey of twelve hundred miles, all were safely in their s.p.a.cious new winter home at the Cha.s.sahowitzka National Wildlife Refuge. The human team could return to homes and families. And for the cranes, life would finally settle down. Experienced handlers would pen them at night, releasing them each morning to explore their new habitat. The pen, built in a large pond, had two purposes: to keep the chicks safe from nighttime predators, and to continue to teach them to roost in water at night.

And then, a few months later, Joe called me again, this time with devastating news. All but one of those glorious crane beings were dead, killed in their pen by lightning during a freak storm that also killed twenty people. Yet setbacks like this must be endured, time and again, in the fight to rescue animals pushed, by us, to the brink of extinction. Joe and the rest of the Operation Migration crew would carry on.

There was good news for that same year: In the summer of 2006, at least six pairs of cranes nested and laid eggs in Necedah-and although only one chick fledged, it followed its human-trained parents to Florida. The following spring (2007) the two adults-known as the First Family-once again nested and laid an egg in Necedah.

Meeting the Eggs-and Other Birds-at Patuxent Wildlife Center On a glorious spring day, five months after my flight in the ultralight with Joe, I visited the whooping crane breeding program at Patuxent Wildlife Research Center in Maryland, where two-thirds of all whoopers so far released into the wild were raised. The director of the crane program, John French, along with several members of his team, was there to greet me and explain what was going on. Currently Patuxent is in charge of rearing and training all the chicks destined for Operation Migration. This training is carried out by a team of scientists, veterinarians, support staff, and the crane handlers who directly care for the birds. Many of those working at Patuxent have been there ten to twenty years, giving the crane project consistency and stability.

The eggs come from Patuxent's own breeding birds, and are also sent from ICF and other facilities. At the time I visited, there were forty-five eggs in various stages of incubation and "chick season," as the Patuxent crew calls it, was in full swing. One egg was actually hatching while I was there, and I went to visit it. Chicks must not hear human voices even in their eggs; as mentioned, they hear recordings of crane brood calls and the sound of the ultralight plane from the earliest age. These recordings, they told me, are played at least four times a day during the entire hatching process.

As we approached the hatching egg, we could hear the desperate-sounding peeping of the chick as he struggled to break through the sh.e.l.l, and every so often a small beak appeared through the little square hole he had already chiseled. I longed to help, but the initial fight to emerge is, said John, critical to the chick's survival. Chicks that cannot hatch on their own are often weak; in the wild they probably would not make it. Those that break free on their own are usually robust, as if the difficult two-day process also encourages qualities of persistence and determination-very important for a bird destined for a demanding existence in the wild. (We named that struggling chick Addison after a friend of mine who has made generous donations to Operation Migration.) Next, I again donned a crane suit and accompanied a two-week-old chick on his daily walk to the wetlands area, along with crane handlers Kathleen (Kathy) O'Malley and Dan Sprague. This regular exercise is necessary to strengthen their rapidly growing legs. It also acclimatizes the chick to a wetlands environment where it learns to hunt, following the example of the human-wielded puppet head as it probes, crane-like, the ground and water.

On the way back, the chick, along with his "parent," followed a noisy ultralight around a small circular track. As he grows older, he will learn to follow the plane when it is driven around the track by his handler. At this time, the regular puppet head is exchanged for one with an extremely long neck (known as a robo-crane) so that the handler can continue to interact with his chick even when sitting in the plane. A robo-crane, like the puppet I used at Necedah, can dispense mealworm "treats" to the always hungry chick each time the handler pulls a trigger-it is important to reward them frequently for following the plane. Chicks start this daily training as early as five days of age. By the time they're sent to Joe and the Operation Migration team in Wisconsin, they have been following the plane for weeks on the ground and are ready to start flying lessons.

Disease, Heartbreak, and Continued Determination Four months after my visit to Patuxent, I learned that out of the forty-five eggs that were there at that time, only seventeen chicks would be available for s.h.i.+pping by private jet to Operation Migration in Wisconsin. Kathy explained that a variety of diseases and genetic problems-such as scoliosis, heart issues, and weak legs-were responsible for the loss of chicks. She has been involved with the whooping crane breeding program since 1984 and has raised more than three hundred whooper chicks, a world record! She definitely has a flair for this work-during her first year in charge, the survival rate went from less than 50 percent to 97 percent.