For the last eight years, Operation Migration has been one of several organizations collectively trying to bring whooping cranes back to the eastern part of the North American continent. The whooping crane is reclusive and headstrong — it demands a square mile around its nest to itself — and consequently was one of the first birds to suffer as humans crowded into North America. In a 1946 article in The New York Times, a spokesman for the U.S. Wildlife Service, which was then going through considerable trouble on the species’s behalf — much of it for naught — called the whooping crane “intolerant of civilization.†The article went on to blame the crane’s “lack of cooperation†for its looming extinction. But the birds’ uncompromising wildness “is part of their majesty,†Joe Duff, Operation Migration’s co-founder told me. Thus, re-establishing the species presents a challenge: how can humans intervene to breed and teach the birds what they’ll need to survive without also wearing away those birds’ natural apprehension of people? One way is to do it in disguise. From the time Operation Migration’s cranes hatch at the federal government’s Patuxent Wildlife Research Center in Maryland, and for the rest of their lives, every effort is made to keep them from acclimating to humans or encountering even the slightest sign of them. Workers never speak around the cranes, and they always wear the same white costumes. They use a small crane-head puppet slipped over one hand to teach the chicks how to peck and forage. Gradually, the cranes “imprint†on the costume, accepting whoever is wearing it as the dominant bird in their cohort. The chicks are then shipped to the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge in Wisconsin for “flight training.†Like many species, whooping cranes learn to migrate only by following their parents. They have no inborn understanding of where to go, and if no older birds are around to show them, they