"Do what you can for us," Bidgrass said. "They won't blame you on Belconti when they know and we won't blame you here if it doesn't help."
Cole sat down, shaking his head. "But Belconti won't count it as a field job, not in ecology. You will not understand my position. Let me put it this way: suppose someone gave you a hatchet and told you, only one man, to cut down Lundy Forest?"
"I could start," the old man said. His eyes blazed and he smiled grimly. "I'd leave my mark on one tree."
Colt felt suddenly foolish and humbled.
"All right," he said. "I'll do what I can. What do you think is wiping out the stompers?"
"I know what. A parasite bird that lays its eggs on stomper eggs. Its young hatch first and eat the big egg. The people call them piskies."
"I'll need to work out its life cycle, look for weak points and natural enemies. Who knows a lot about these piskies?"
"I know as much as anybody, and I've never seen a grown one. We believe they stay in the deep forest. But there are always three to each stomper egg and they're vicious. Go for a man's eyes or jugular. Egg hunters kill dozens every day."
"I'll want dozens, alive if possible, and a lab. Can you do that much?"
"Yes. You can use Dr. Rudall's lab at the hospital." Bidgrass stood up and looked at his watch. "The egg harvest should start coming in soon down at the plant and there may be a dead pisky. Come along and see."