[2]  The two special agents of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service stepped cautiously into their supervisor’s office. Typically, whenever Dan Archer bellowed his beckonings this way, a bad assignment was about to be doled out. These two agents had received more than their fair share of those. But even Johnny Hammock and Natalie Savage, two seasoned veterans of the Agency’s Region 1 office in Portland, Oregon, weren’t prepared for what they saw laying across Archer’s desk.

"Uh, what are those Dan?" Hammock asked.

"Well son, what do they look like?" Archer replied.

"They look like endangered banjos. Is this for real?" Hammock’s blood pressure was slowly beginning to rise.

Natalie Savage just stood there shaking her head. She had heard about this, but always thought, or hoped, it was a myth.

"That’s right boys and girls, take a look at Les Paul’s new Loggerhead Line." Archer picked up one of the dozen stringed instruments piled on his desk and produced an atonal twang. The body of this banjo-like instrument was made from the complete shell of a Loggerhead sea turtle. "You know, what’s really amazing is that these things don’t even make good instruments. It’s just a novelty…like those gorilla hand ashtrays we had going around a few years ago. Just for show and tell."

"And if they did make good instruments? That would make it O.K.?" Hammock muttered.

"What was that?" Archer snapped.

Natalie, sensing Johnny’s rising frustration and Archer’s intolerance, quickly halted any potential for escalation. "So, where are we going? These things didn’t wash up on the shores of Oregon I presume. I hope it’s someplace exciting. I’m ready for a trip, aren’t you Johnny? Baja, Cancun, Key We…."

"Galveston," Archer cut her off.

"Galveston?"

"Yeah. As in Galveston, oh Galveston. I want you to meet with some folks from NOAA down there first. They do a lot of research on Loggerheads and, well, they have some information for us. I told ‘em we’d send someone down."

While Natalie and Archer discussed the background of this flagrant violation of the Endangered Species Act, Johnny Hammock sat listlessly, staring out the window. The Galveston song, made famous by Glen Campbell during the Vietnam-war era, droned through his head. "Damn it Archer," he thought, "why’d you have to mention that song?" Unbeknownst to his co-workers, Hammock, one of Fish and Wildlife Service's finest, suffered from Old McDonald’s Syndrome. Believed to be caused by excessive sing-along activities during the developmental years, this affliction caused its victims to continuously recite the words and music of songs which held some particular significance in their lives. All it took was the mere mention of a song to set it off.

In more serious cases, the victims would mutter, or even sing, the lyrics out loud. A gathering of such cases on the Jerry Springer Show had resulted in a rather raucous chorus, as Springer danced around in the aisles spouting off songs from his cue cards to the odd assortment of guests on stage. Of course, these particular victims of Old McDonald’s had also been unfaithful to their spouses, and were simultaneously being beaten over the head with large kitchen utensils as they attempted to deliver their intonations.

Hammock had been truly disgusted with this exhibition…and disgusted with himself for watching it. The attraction to these shows was another disease in itself, he thought.

Hammock’s case was not as severe. He could usually keep it in his head. But it took most of his concentration to do this, leaving the appearance that he was daydreaming or under some kind of spell. And at the wrong time, it could be dangerous. Once, while raiding the establishment of an illegal (and heavily armed) fur trader, someone had shouted "Cover me!", a Springsteen tune which Hammock associated with his training days at the Fish and Wildlife Service. With bullets zinging by in all directions, Hammock fought to get the song out of his head. As a last resort, he had had to belt the song out loud while running, ducking and rolling his way through the raid. He had found that he could focus on matters at hand much easier if he just succumbed to the urges brought on by his disease.

Up until now, he had been able to explain away these few episodes to his incredulous co-workers. "Singing gets me psyched" was the reasoning that usually deterred any further inquiry. Fortunately, the incidents had been sparse enough so that it was unlikely anyone had noticed a pattern.

Of course, listening to the radio on duty was out. Except maybe for National Public Radio. And he rarely fraternized with co-workers after hours. Hammock felt strongly about keeping his "affliction" hidden, and he took whatever precautions were necessary. His new partner Natalie Savage worried him, though. She seemed particularly sensitive to his behavior and uncannily aware of his thoughts.

As she was now. "Johnny, you with us over there? You look like you have something else on your mind."

She was 21, when I left Galveston. Damn! Focus. Focus! The song reminded Hammock of his older brother who had died in Vietnam. And it wasn’t going away.

"Hey Hammock!" Archer bellowed.

"Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, I’m fine," he stammered. "I’ll clean my gun, and dream of Galveston," he hummed, quickly passing by the two bewildered agents and out of Archer’s office.