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Elusive Ivory Bill a Sign of Hope

May 2, 2005

There hasn’t been much for conservationists to cheer about lately.

Congress is one step away from sending to an eager President Bush a bill opening America’s largest national wildlife refuge to oil drilling. The House passed a pork-bloated energy bill that will accelerate our nation’s dependence on oil. And no matter how much science gets thrown at them, our federal elected officials refuse to do anything meaningful to combat global warming.

Every once in awhile, however, the wild world puts an emphatic kibosh on malaise. We receive a timely reminder that nature can fend off our depredations. Given half a chance, wild creatures exhibit a remarkable tenacity to hold onto life.

That reminder came last week with news of conclusive proof that an ivory-billed woodpecker was seen at the Cache River National Wildlife Refuge in Arkansas, which protects remnants of the swamp forests that once prevailed in the lower Mississippi River Valley.

This is a really big deal.

The ivory-billed woodpecker was thought to have gone extinct. Many species have gone extinct and many are on oblivion's doorstep, but most lack what we call “charisma,” and are unknown to anyone except specialists.

Not the ivory-billed woodpecker. An icon of the South, the ivory bill is called the “Lord, God” bird, because that’s the exclamation that came out of people’s mouths when they saw this spectacular bird’s 30-inch wing span, crisp black-and-white coloration, and the male’s impressive red crest.

John James Audubon called the ivory bill “the great chieftain of the woodpecker tribe.” Following a 1907 hunting trip to Louisiana, President Theodore Roosevelt wrote of ivory bills: “Their brilliant white bills contrasted finely with the black of their general plumage. They were noisy but wary, and they seemed to me to set off the wildness of the swamp as much as any of the beasts of the chase.”

The rediscovery of the ivory bill brought palpable rejoicing to anyone who values wildlife and wilderness. In 2005, seeing a living ivory bill in a remote thicket is like stepping into a time machine to see what an earlier, wilder America was like. It's as if a flock of passenger pigeons emerged from a hidden oak grove after nearly a century's absence. The reaction would have been the same had someone spotted a giant herd of bison thundering across a prairie that time forgot, or saw a school of the enormous "June hog" chinook salmon bulling their way up the Columbia River.

The ivory bill is a living link to a past America where virgin forests were extant, rivers flowed untamed, wildlife abounded, and an expansive wilderness invited us to follow Huck Finn’s freedom quest and “light out for the territory.”

Logging in Southern forests wiped out habitat the ivory bill requires. The last confirmed sighting of an ivory bill took place in Louisiana more than 60 years ago. Between then and now, rumors of ivory bill sightings flitted around birdwatching circles, tugging at hopes and churning regretful memories. Like most rumors about extraordinary things, there was no proof and seemingly little prospect of finding any.

Until early last year. A Cache River visitor spotted a large woodpecker with a red crest. Quietly, follow-up visits were organized and they resulted in additional sightings. Ornithologists were consulted, evidence was collected, and government agencies were called in. The Nature Conservancy and other land protection groups bought up land to expand the protected habitat that the refuge in Arkansas' Big Woods already provides.

Few conservationists would list Gale Norton as their favorite Interior secretary, but in this case, she’s done good. Last week, she announced with the Agriculture Department a $10 million “Corridor of Hope” conservation plan to protect the ivory bill.

The ivory bill will need all the help and hope we can provide. Even so, time may not be on the ivory bill’s side. We don't know yet whether there is a breeding population or whether the Big Woods offer enough living space.

But for now, put the somber possibilities aside. Just celebrate. Somewhere in a bottomland forest that our pretensions, noise, and machines have passed by, a great bird from our past is alive, holding fast to its secrets and helping us hold on to a piece of the original wild America.