The Return of "Elvis"

Reality and disbelief clash when you see a bird you thought was extinct

By Melinda S. LaBranche

On April 10, 2004, I stepped out of the canoe onto a spot known as "the octopus"? an enormous cephalopod-shaped cypress knee along the edge of a lake. When I set up a folding chair, its legs sank a couple of inches in the muck. I sat down with water up to my lower shin.

Although it would have been possible to walk around wearing hip waders, the sucking and splashing sounds while moving would have been too noisy. To confirm the presence of the elusive bird we were looking for, we had recently changed our search strategy from slogging to sitting.

During my graduate studies of the endangered Red-cockaded Woodpecker, I learned that I can sit still for about five minutes if there are no insects buzzing around. In the rare cases where I can relax enough to stay still, I usually wake myself up by snoring. I stayed awake by recording 10-minute counts of the birds I could see and hear, estimating the water's flow rate by timing sticks floating by, videotaping a Wood Duck with young, eating snacks, and talking to my mom on my cell phone for a few minutes. Light, steady rain started sometime after 11:00 so I returned the video camcorder to its waterproof case and snapped it shut. I zipped up my phone and notes in their plastic bags and closed up my packs to keep things from getting more soaked than usual.

At about 12:24 I glanced to the south and saw a woodpecker come over the canopy, between emergent trees, heading east, about 100 meters from where I sat. Immediately, I knew it was too big to be a Pileated Woodpecker and it didn't fly like one; I put up my binoculars. On each wing flap I thought, "white on top to the trailing edge, white on top to the trailing edge," and I knew I was seeing a bird I thought was extinct.

In 1935, Lab founder Arthur Allen took this photo of an Ivorybilled Woodpecker in the Singer Tract, Louisiana, which has since been logged. After more than 60 years without a confirmed sighting, many believed the ivory-bill was extinct.

Photo by Arthur Allen/CLO

I've watched many woodpeckers over the years and their distinctive undulating flight makes them easy to spot. My bird flew with no undulation. A Pileated Woodpecker has variably-sized white patches under its wings that are visible in flight. Occasionally, views of the far wing can make it appear that the white is on the top, but the black trailing edge is typically obvious. The bird I saw had white that extended to the rear edge of the wing, clearly visible on both the upper and lower surfaces.

Although a pileated's measurements are only slightly smaller than this bird's, the black-and-white pattern in flight gave the impression of a much larger bird. No pileated has ever looked to me as large as the bird I saw. And picture, if you will, that you have just seen a bird that you had believed was extinct. What were the chances? Slim to none. I wrote my notes, shuddering and talking to myself and trying to see through my tears. Then, as instructed, I called in my sighting to project manager Ron Rohrbaugh.

By his later account, I was a blubbering mess and made just enough sense for him to understand my narrative. What I remember is telling him (more than once, I'm sure) that despite getting binoculars on the bird, I had put away the video camera so it wouldn't get wet. I hadn't fully charged my cell phone, so I got cut off and was unable to contact my canoe companions. So, there I sat, cold, wet, and dazed, not knowing that since the rain had stopped no one would come to get me until after 5:00.

Was I sure about what I had seen? Well, when asked during a long grilling amid a boisterous crowd in a hotel room that night, I said I was 99 percent sure. My colleague, Tim Gallagher, asked what the one percent of doubt was and, reportedly, I said, "Because it's freaking extinct." I would question this quote except that he was videotaping my response. Also, I looked and felt like I had seen a ghost and I had a Guinness in hand, so I'm in no position to take it back.

Despite not yet having mentioned the name of this bird species, you already know what I saw--its discovery has been all over the news. But because of the secrecy of our mission we were forbidden to mention it for more than a year. We called our mission the Arkansas Inventory Project and referred to the bird as a "snipe" or "Elvis" (being near Memphis furthered the Elvis allusion). So the bird's name still does not easily roll off the tongue or fingertips--as I write this I've been able to say it out loud for only four days.

The chances of seeing it are probably lower than winning a million-dollar lottery. But now I can confidently say, "At least one Ivory-billed Woodpecker is alive and well and living in Arkansas. I've seen one myself!"

Melinda LaBranche is a research biologist and former project leader of the Lab's Urban Bird Studies.

For permission to reprint all or part of this article, please contact Laura Erickson, editor, Cornell Lab of Ornithology, 159 Sapsucker Woods Rd., Ithaca, NY, 14850. Phone: (607) 254-1114. email: lle24@cornell.edu