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[[Newspaper Article taped to page]]

Star Reporter, on Zoo Cruise,
Tells of Pets Kept on Deck
Buffalo (and Some Passengers) Lose Appetites,
But Eagles Don't Mind It Rough

    Bearing gifts for South American zoos, Dr. William M. Mann, director of the National Zoological Park, is en route to points in Brazil, Argentine and Uruguay to collect birds, reptiles and animals. Among those on board his ship is William H. Shippen, jr., feature writer of The Star staff, who here presents the first of a series of articles about Dr. Mann's expedition.
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[[bold] By W. H. Shippen, Jr., [[/bold]]
Star Staff Correspondent.  [[handwritten]] April 16 [[/handwritten]]
[[image: Bust photograph of man in suit]] [[caption]] William H. Shippen, Jr.[[/caption]]\
ABOARD THE S.S. URUGUAY (By Airmail). - It's the second day we've been heading south.
    Already tropical whites are appearing on deck. The ship's swimming pool is filling up, and the sun has broken through the chill, windharried clouds which prevailed yesterday.
    The water, like the sky, is bluer and deeper. Any time now we'll see the flying fish that skip on jeweled wings through the rainbow on the bow.
    Even Zoo Director William M. Mann's buffalo, in their shaggy, blizzard-proof coats, seem glad to be getting south.
    Their crates are lashed on a work deck forward. The wind was howling out there yesterday and the spray had stinging force.
[[bold]] Appetites Lost. [[/bold]]
    I'm certain the buffalo didn't like it. They're just yearlings - 18 months old - and they must have felt they were a long way from home in a strange environment. Anyhow, they had lost their appetites (like some of the passengers) on a deck that tilted to the shock of the waves that run off Cape Hatteras.
    With the buffalo on deck are a pair of red wolves from Texas, two big American bald eagles, which still acted pretty cocky after a rough ride yesterday: a pair of Emperor geese from Alaska, whose honking is a source of great interest to the crew, quartered nearby, and several crates of prairie dogs.
A few tropical specimens are in the hold - a bear cat from the East Indies, and several civet cats from Sumatra and Africa, along with a big monitor lizard. Dr. Mann plans to bring them on deck after the ship has poked her nose into a milder climate.
    The ship is settling down to her routine. Passengers are getting acquainted, oriented and accustomed to the isolated little community whose interests they will share, for a brief time anyhow, with every other member. One hears a bit of gossip; characters and celebrities are emerging, and little cliques forming.
[[bold]] Snake Rumor Spreads.[[/bold]]
    Members of the crew have heard that one of Dr. Mann's snakes is loose below decks. This, it seems, originated with the seaman who got a glimpse of the monitor lizard. Dr. Mann, however, brought no snakes.
    "But why ruin a good story with a little detail like that?" asked Dr. Mann. "When animals go on a boat there's always a snake story. The captain of a ship my wife and I returned in from Northern South America started a story himself - just for fun.
"One lady passenger barricaded herself in her cabin. She put her steamer trun  across the door, but left her transom open. I'm sure the snake woul  have preferred this private entrance - had there been a snake.
  "However, when we returned from Sumatra in the fall of '37 there was some excuse for a snake story - five excuses, as a matter of fact, 50 or 60 feet of excuses. A dealer had put over a faulty crate, and rough weather did the rest. It was in a hold piled with hay and grain, and not too well lighted. We caught all the run-aways, but we had feeding work to do down there while the hunt went on."
[[bold]] Didn't Want It in Papers.[[/bold]]
    "That would have made a good story. Why didn't you tell me - and that other Washington reporter - when we met your ship in Halifax that year?"
    "Because," Dr. Mann said, "you might have put it in the paper!"
    As we chatted, the noon whistle went - one short blast.  I started aft to watch our wake steam away to a flowless horizon.  The hum of the propellors I sensed rather than felt through the soles of my shoes.
    "Just think," said a passenger, "it won't be long until our propellers turn up the Southern Cross!"
    Strange new constellations over a continent stranger and newer still ... to me anyhow! I'll have to confess I get a pretty big kick out of the idea!
[[italicized]] Tomorrow: A reporter tries watering the buffalo. [[/italicized]]

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