Howard’s been back in Texas for a number of years. Now, he has had a quintuple bypass, plus some other medical adventures.

Having published Howard’s most recent collections, I have been on the phone off & on with him over the years.

Bruce, that sounds very interesting but your link is bad.

My car was broken, and I had a class to teach at eleven. So I took the city bus, something I rarely do.

I spent last summer crawling through The Big Thicket with cameras and tape recorder, photographing and taping two of the last ivory-billed woodpeckers on the earth. You can see the films at your local Audubon Society showroom.

This year I wanted something just as flashy but a little less taxing. Perhaps a population study on the Bermuda cahow, or the New Zealand takahe. A month or so in the warm (not hot) sun would do me a world of good. To say nothing of the advance of science.

I was idly leafing through Greenway’s Extinct and Vanishing Birds of the World. The city bus was winding its way through the ritzy neighborhoods of Austin, stopping to let off the chicanas, black women, and Vietnamese who tended the kitchens and gardens of the rich.

“I haven’t seen any of those ugly chickens in a long time,” said a voice close by.

A grey-haired lady was leaning across the aisle toward me.

I looked at her, then around. Maybe she was a shopping-bag lady. Maybe she was just talking. I looked straight at her. No doubt about it, she was talking to me. She was waiting for an answer.

“I used to live near some folks who raised them when I was a girl,” she said. She pointed.

I looked down at the page my book was open to.

What I should have said was: “That is quite impossible, madam. This is a drawing of an extinct bird of the island of Mauritius. It is perhaps the most famous dead bird in the world. Maybe you are mistaking this drawing for that of some rare Asiatic turkey, peafowl, or pheasant. I am sorry, but you are mistaken.”

I should have said all that.

What she said was, “Oops, this is my stop,” and got up to go.

Naturally, the woman is not mistaken, but even dodos only get so many chances. Like a lot of Waldrop stories, it is very deeply funny, with a solid knot of tragedy at the center.

The only problem is that Howard writes about a 5-page short story in a good year. So maybe between the 2 of them…

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/7976207.stm

http://mvn.com/roarofthetigers/2009/04/justin-verlanders-condition-and-what-it-means-for-the-tigers.html