The rediscovery of this legendary bird of the great southern forests, which most ornithologists and bird-watchers thought had probably been extinct since the 1940s, made news around the world. Fitzpatrick called it "the conservation story of the century." Nature lovers were ecstatic; people cried when they heard the news. It seemed the closest thing to a scientific miracle anyone could imagine. The cadre of ivorybill enthusiasts who had believed in the bird for decades, and who had faced only slightly less ridicule than Bigfoot fanatics, had been vindicated.
Nearly everyone accepted the news without question. The United States government gave its blessing through the cooperation of the Fish and Wildlife Service. The Nature Conservancy was a partner in the announcement. The journal Science published the search team's paper. After all, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology arguably holds first place among the world's most prestigious centers of bird study. When the Vatican issues an edict, to whom, exactly, do you appeal for a second opinion?
The team had chosen to assert that it had proof that a single ivorybill was present in Arkansas in 2004 and early 2005. It was an act of possibly admirable courage—though, depending on what happens over the next few years, the team's judgment may well be debated for as long as anyone cares about birds. As more and more bird-watchers and ornithologists examined the evidence—seven fleeting glimpses and four seconds of fuzzy video that make the notorious Bigfoot film look like March of the Penguins—a controversy began that soon escalated beyond polite discussion into decidedly unscientific name-calling. The bird world split into Believers and Skeptics, and splintered further into True Believers, Agnostics, and Atheists, with former friends and colleagues at each others' throats.
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