Reports of this bird’s demise exaggerated

Reports of this bird’s demise exaggerated

The Ivory-billed woodpecker • By John James Audubon (1785–1851) (Public Domain)

Originally published 30 June 1986

The ivory-billed wood­peck­er lives!

That is the announce­ment made sev­er­al weeks ago by ornithol­o­gist Lester Short of the Amer­i­can Muse­um of Nat­ur­al His­to­ry. Short and his col­leagues sight­ed sev­er­al ivory-billed wood­peck­ers in the moun­tain forests of east­ern Cuba. It was the first undis­put­ed sight­ing of the wood­peck­ers in Cuba since the 1970s. Most ornithol­o­gists had con­sid­ered the bird to be extinct.

The ivory-billed wood­peck­er was once com­mon in the south­east­ern Unit­ed States. It is a large bird with a wing-span of near­ly three feet. It has shiny black plumage marked by dis­tinc­tive white stripes, white-tipped wings, and a mag­nif­i­cent scar­let crest. And of course the long ivory bill that gives the bird its name. In Audubon’s paint­ing of a male and two females, the birds have some­thing of the look of a fam­i­ly of gai­ly-col­ored ptero­dactyls. Audubon fre­quent­ly observed ivory-billed wood­peck­ers. Like them, he loved the soli­tude of wild forest­ed places.

The ivory-billed wood­peck­er’s range once includ­ed most of the Atlantic and Gulf Coastal Plains, from the Car­oli­nas to Texas, and much of the Mis­sis­sip­pi Val­ley. Exten­sive forest­ing, espe­cial­ly along riv­er bot­toms, destroyed the bird’s nat­ur­al habi­tat and the sup­ply of wood-bor­ing bee­tles that were its chief food. The last undis­put­ed sight­ing of an ivory-billed wood­peck­er in the Unit­ed States was in 1941. Since that time, there have been occa­sion­al rumors of sight­ings in Louisiana swamps or Texas thick­ets, but even the rumors have become increas­ing­ly rare.

The ornithol­o­gist Frank Chap­man described the call of the ivory-billed wood­peck­er as “the dis­tant note of a pen­ny trumpet.” 

There are no more pen­ny trum­pets, but appar­ent­ly there are still a few ivory-billed wood­peck­ers toot, toot-toot­ing in sun­ny Cuba. Now they have been found out. The Cuban gov­ern­ment has promised to restrict log­ging in the area where the birds were sight­ed. It is not known to what extent they will restrict the expect­ed influx of bird-watch­ers. The lat­ter may be as detri­men­tal to the bird’s soli­tude as the former.

Woodpecker not first to return

Sup­port­ers of leg­is­la­tion to pro­tect endan­gered species right­ly empha­size that extinc­tion is for­ev­er. When some­thing is as dead as a dodo, it is dead indeed. No one expects ever again to see a live dodo or a live pas­sen­ger pigeon. A lot of peo­ple nev­er expect­ed to see anoth­er ivory-billed wood­peck­er. But that bird, it turns out, can legit­i­mate­ly say with Mark Twain: “Reports of my death have been great­ly exaggerated.”

The ivory-billed wood­peck­er is not the only ani­mal that has returned from “extinc­tion.” The most cel­e­brat­ed case is the coela­canth. For years this remark­able fish was known only by its fos­sils, fos­sils that were tens or hun­dreds of mil­lions of years old. The coela­canth is one of the prim­i­tive lobe-finned fish from which all ver­te­brates are descend­ed. It was thought to have become extinct at the same time as the dinosaurs.

Then, in 1938, to every­one’s sur­prise and con­ster­na­tion, a coela­canth was caught by fish­er­man off the coast of Africa. The catch threw the sci­en­tif­ic world into a tizzy. It was as if a fos­sil on a muse­um shelf had sud­den­ly come to life. A search of the same waters failed to pro­duce anoth­er spec­i­men. It was­n’t until 1953 that a sec­ond coela­canth was pulled from the sea near the Comoro Islands in the Indi­an Ocean. Since that time, dozens of coela­canths have been found and studied.

The strange sto­ry of the coela­canth sup­ports the always fas­ci­nat­ing pos­si­bil­i­ty of crea­tures return­ing from the dead. But some­times reports of a res­ur­rec­tion are great­ly exaggerated.

Con­sid­er the Loch Ness Mon­ster. An aston­ish­ing num­ber of peo­ple in Britain — and else­where — are con­vinced that a siz­able mon­ster lives in the cold depths of that Scot­tish lake. The most wide­ly-held the­o­ry is that Nessie (as the mon­ster is affec­tion­ate­ly called) is a ple­siosaur, a sea-going dinosaur that sci­en­tists say has been extinct for 63 mil­lion years. Accord­ing to Nessie enthu­si­asts, a ple­siosaur has some­how man­aged to sur­vive in the cold dark waters of Loch Ness, just like the coelacanth.

Science fiction becomes fact

Few, if any, seri­ous sci­en­tists believes a ple­siosaur, or any­thing like it, lives in Loch Ness. For one thing, only ten thou­sand years ago Loch Ness was filled with ice. Still, every­one loves the thought of a sur­vivor. Tens of thou­sands of dol­lars have been spent try­ing to acquire defin­i­tive evi­dence for the exis­tence of a ple­siosaur in Loch Ness, so far with­out suc­cess. We have seen dozens of sci­ence fic­tion movies about remote islands pop­u­lat­ed with dinosaurs and oth­er mon­sters from the past.

In a mod­est sort of way, the ivory-billed wood­peck­er has turned sci­ence fic­tion into sci­ence fact. Per­haps the redis­cov­ery of that elu­sive bird is not so grand a sto­ry as the dis­cov­ery of a South Sea island full of dinosaurs — but for the ivory-billed wood­peck­er, it is the best sto­ry of all.


Since this essay was first pub­lished, there have been spo­radic but uncon­firmed sight­ings of the Ivory-billed wood­peck­er in the South­east­ern U.S. and Cuba, includ­ing some fleet­ing glimpses of a sus­pect­ed spec­i­men in Arkansas in 2004. The bird is cat­e­go­rized as crit­i­cal­ly endan­gered by the IUCN. ‑Ed.

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