Part 12

The following three birds, which are recorded as having poisonous flesh, are, strangely enough, all members of groups ordinarily considered good table birds. Further, it seems the poisonous properties of their flesh are not constant, but apparently depend on what they have been eating.

The ruffed grouse of the United States is regarded by many as the finest of upland game birds and favored by the epicure. However, Mr. E. H. Forbush, in his monumental Birds of Massachusetts and Other New England States, gives accounts to show that in winter the ruffed grouse is known to eat leaves of laurel, which have poisonous properties, and that there are stories of serious poisoning resulting from eating the flesh of the birds. Such poisoning, Forbush points out, seems to have taken place only long ago and only by winter-taken birds. Perhaps now that it is illegal to shoot grouse in the winter when they may have been feeding on laurel, such poisoning does not occur. This seems an additional reason for obeying the game laws.

Pigeons in the tropics are abundant both as to individuals and as to species and many are favored as food. However, Messrs. D. L. Serventy and H. M. Mitchell, in their recent volume on the birds of Western Australia, report that bronze-wing pigeons of two species are given to feeding on the seeds of the box-poison plant, and when they have been feeding on these seeds their entrails and bones, but not the flesh, are poisonous to dogs and cats. The effects of eating this poison seems to be that the dogs and cats have fits, become mad, bite at anyone within reach, and finally die in convulsions.

During Colonel Meinertzhagen's study of the birds of Mauritius he found that one of the pigeons there had a bad reputation from a culinary point of view. Reports have it that some of the people who have eaten the flesh of this pigeon suffered from extreme lassitude, while others reported the effects as convulsions. Strangely some of the people who reported sickness from eating this pigeon say it tastes well, while others who have eaten it without ill effects say that the flesh is bitter.

KINGFISHERS ON THE TELEPHONE

"What color is the kingfisher? Not the American one, but the European and Asiatic one? My husband is painting one and needs to know the colors," a lady's voice came over the telephone. I thought quickly. "Will it help if I explain the various kinds and colors of kingfishers and where they live? But no, lessons on taxonomy and zoogeography fall too flat most of the time." The lady's voice had a Central European quality. To her "the kingfisher" probably meant the little sparrow-sized kingfisher of the Old World scientists know as Alcedo atthis. So I'd better start with that. I described the cobalt-blue back, with darker wings, and dark bars on the crown; an earth-brown stripe through the side of the head, paling to whitish posteriorly, and with ocherous underparts.

"What color is the eye?"

"Brown."

"And the feet?"

"Red."

"And the nails?"

"Black."

She thanked me prettily. I tried to tell her about some of the other kingfishers, but she said no, she had enough, and hung up.

I sighed and thought regretfully of all the other things I had ready to tell her.

In the United States we think of the kingfisher as the belted kingfisher, larger than a jay, with a tousled crest and a voice like a watchman's rattle. But there are other species farther south in the Americas, and in the Old World there are still more. The tropics are their home. Only one species reaches Northern United States, and only one reaches Britain. But in New Guinea, for instance, there are about twenty-four of the ninety or so known kinds of kingfishers; the smallest tiny as a warbler, the largest nearly crow size.

Kingfishers, we call them, but many live on the dry land, and instead of catching fish catch insects or other tiny animals from the ground. One large species, with a broad shovel-like bill, is even reputed to dig in the earth to get its food of earthworms.

They all look much alike in shape. Once you overcome your surprise at seeing a kingfisher as big as a crow, or smaller than a sparrow, you recognize one anywhere--big-headed, large-billed birds with tiny feet that sit up quietly much of the time. Blue is a common color, but not all are blue. Some are generally reddish in color, some patterned with browns, grays, and whites tinged with blue. Many are decorated with crests, and a few species have elongated spatulate-tipped central tail feathers that have earned the species the name paradise kingfishers.

Its voice has given one species its name: the laughing jackass, the jackass kingfisher, or the kookaburra of Australia. "Ha ha huh huh ho ha ha huk" in a deafening chorus has been given as a description of its call. A. H. S. Lucas and W. H. D. Le Souëf, no doubt with tongue in cheek, record that "on dit that the jackass has been heard to laugh while a cicada [it had eaten whole] has been skirring inside him."

CLASSICAL ALLUSIONS Halcyon, Alcyone, and Ceyx appear in the scientific names of kingfishers. Scientific names make the layman shudder. Latin, he says, and if he's told they're not Latin, but rather Greek, it doesn't help any. But once you know the story of Halcyon (or Alcyone) and Ceyx, the names stick in your mind. In ancient times Halcyon was the daughter of Aeolus. And in grief for her drowned husband, Ceyx, she threw herself into the sea. The gods, out of compassion, changed both into kingfishers. Halcyon was also used by the Greeks as a name for the kingfisher and it was fabled to make its nest on the sea, and to quiet the waves for its incubation period. Poets still use Halcyon for the kingfishers in reference to calm, happy, peaceful days, Halcyon days; the sort of days in which the kingfishers can nest on the quiet waves.

The lady had not waited for all this. She had gone. I would have liked to see the picture her husband was painting when it was finished.

ON IDENTIFYING SEA SERPENTS

The lock ness monster reappears periodically in the newspapers. This monster seems to belong in the general category of "sea serpent." As a museum zoologist I've had little to do with such things. The stock in trade of a museum is specimens and if someone sends us a "sea serpent" (and I don't mean a water snake or a sea snake), we'll identify it. If it doesn't have a name we'll give it one and make a place for it in our classification. Until then we are aloof. We've had some little experience at times with "sea serpents" and the following will illustrate the sort of investigation and the results that we've had.

Years ago Sir Frederick Jackson was an administrator in East Africa. In addition to his official duties he was an enthusiastic and an able naturalist. So when a "sea serpent" was reported there he investigated.

IN KENYA The sea serpent was said to frequent Lake Naivasha in the Rift Valley of Kenya Colony. Up until 1909 there were many rumors of it, and Europeans had seen it with their own eyes. It always appeared on the lake about the same time each day, about five o'clock in the afternoon, always about the same distance from the shore, and was always traveling in the same direction, from north to south. All descriptions agreed that it was long, black, and reptilelike, and that it kept appearing and disappearing on the surface of the water at short intervals.

Sir Frederick kept watch with one of the people who had reported it. And, sure enough, what appeared like a long black reptile appearing and disappearing, or like a school of porpoises, rising and disappearing, came into view. But Sir Frederick had binoculars and was able to make out that what to other people had been a long black reptile was in reality a long line of white-breasted cormorants in flight, on their way to their roosting quarters. As they flapped steadily along they were plainly evident, to the naked eye, as a moving black line; as they paused in their flapping and sailed on motionless wings they became invisible to the naked eye, though, of course, still visible through the binoculars.

IN NEW GUINEA Once, for a few startled moments, I thought I had a sea serpent before my very eyes. It was on the middle Fly River in south New Guinea. We were camped on a bamboo-covered bluff overlooking the river. Though about one hundred miles from the mouth, the tide made itself strongly felt here, and there was an abundance of driftwood. This driftwood, varying from freshly uprooted trees that had fallen into the river to waterlogged timber that had been long in the river, went up and down on the tide until it got out in the main channel and so on to the sea. One day at lunch, sitting in front of my tent, I was idly watching the driftwood. One piece in particular caught my fancy. Apparently it was the root of a partly submerged log, projecting about three feet above the water, and curved at the end so that it looked like the neck and head of a reptile with a casque on its head. Knowing it was a waterworn root, in fancy I even saw its eye. I called my companion's attention to it, as here was as close as we were ever likely to get to a sea serpent. Then, the "head" turned. It was alive. For a few startled moments it was a sea serpent. You can imagine our amazement at having a piece of driftwood that we had in fancy turned into a sea serpent come to life. Investigation became the order of the day. The binoculars that were constantly at hand were trained on it. The reality came as a further surprise. Our sea serpent was the head and shoulders of a cassowary which was swimming the river. Later I found that these large, ostrichlike birds, which have a large casque on their heads, are well known to swim, but I didn't then.

This seemed an ideal opportunity to collect a specimen. These birds may weigh up to 150 pounds. When shot in the forest there is the question of lugging them perhaps miles to camp. Here was one swimming up to our door.

We sat quietly waiting for it. But our native boys had seen it too, for next I saw them rowing the dinghy to it. An oar was brought into play to stun it. And then both the boys and ourselves found out something else. Dead cassowaries sink. When the bird was stunned by a blow of an oar, it disappeared below the surface and was never seen again.