Little 38

The bird-loving National Audubon Society began its week with happiness; one of its prospectors had discovered a large flock of flamingos in Yucatan. A few days later, the happiness turned to ecstasy when gladder news arrived from Texas. At Aransas National Wildlife Refuge near Corpus Christi, the message said, a precious egg had been hatched. From it had stepped a baby whooping crane, the first ever born in captivity. Thus, according to the most respected count, there were 38, not 37, survivors of the once numerous breed of whooping cranes.

Few births have had more careful attention than .the event among the cranes last week. Whooping cranes normally migrate from the Gulf Coast to unknown breeding grounds in Canada, but Crip and Josephine, the parents of Little 38, had been grounded by wing injuries. Last fall they were brought together by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and given the run of 150 acres of well-fenced Texas marsh. It was not certain that they would get along together. Some were not even certain, in spite of their names, that they were male & female.

From an observation tower, the Wildlifers watched the pair through telescopes. Yes, they assured one another hopefully, there was interest stirring. The great birds had been noted prancing a little and tossing their black-tipped wings in the air in the courtship minuet of the whooping cranes. The Wildlifers smiled like doting parents and waited.

When one of the great birds, probably Josephine, laid a large, brown-speckled egg, the tension outside the fence neared the bursting point. Wildlifers tramped the marsh, guarding against such raiders as egg-sucking raccoons. Unauthorized visitors were kept at a distance while the cranes took turns on the nest, one of them caring for the egg while the other strode off for food.

At last the great day came. With thumping hearts the telescope watchers kept the nest under minute-to-minute watch. Had the precious egg brought forth a fuzzy nestling? Yes, it was true. Two days later. Little 38 was walking with its tall parents on shaky, wire-thin legs.

This week, the rejoicing turned to gloom. One of the world's best-guarded babies had disappeared. Bird-lovers feared that Little 38 had become a victim of some marauding animal.

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