What Michael remembered about Col. Devard is that he adhered to a certain decorum in the way he engaged people. There was nothing pretentious about it. It was just something that accrued to the Colonel owing to his upbringing, his gravitation to academia and the military, and an elegantly folded-in notion of what a southern gentleman should be.
If one were unprepared for the Colonel it would be easy to carom off him at a bad angle in what most would consider to be a failure to connect. But it was one of Michael’s gifts of intuition and tact that he could locate even the most unusual people on the spectrum of human personalities and tune them in successfully. Having crossed paths with Col. Devard earlier in life he knew how to frame the matter and get an appointment. It began with a perfect voice mail message, one that was long enough to jog the now-elderly professor’s memory but clear and specific enough to meet the Colonel’s standards for brevity and data.
“I do remember you Mister Lowe,” he said in his reply voice message. “I must tell you I’m skeptical about the Ivory-billed woodpecker but yes I’d be willing to meet with you and your friend. The best times for me are later in the week. Thursday and Friday afternoons.”
Thursday afternoon it would be. The two drove to Charleston in the morning and, with time to spare, walked along the border of the college’s parade ground, observing drills for a quarter of an hour before moving on to the hall where Col. Devard’s office was located. Michael carried the laptop computer and Erskine carried the DVDs in his caramel-colored valise.
The meeting lasted only 22 minutes. The Colonel was cordial but was understandably reserved until he’d gotten a chance to view the video.
“Can you slow that down a bit more?” he asked after the first pass.
“I measured that tree on the left,” Erskine volunteered, during the third pass at the images. “It’s eighteen and a half inches across at the level where the first bird reaches it.”
The Colonel pursed his lips after the fourth viewing.
“Would you like to see it again?” Michael asked.
“No,” Col. Devard replied. “I think more likely than not the bird on the left is an Ivory-billed woodpecker. So, yes I will help you.”
In the way that Col. Devard speaks, the tenor of his answer sounded like it was headed for bad news and so when he said he was on board, Erskine was confused enough that he didn’t respond right away.
“Shazam,” Michael said, on behalf of his speechless friend.
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