The Dodo and the Solitaire: A Natural History [1 ed.] 0253000998, 9780253000996

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The Dodo and the Solitaire

L I F E O F T H E PA S T

James O. Farlow, editor

THE DODO AND THE

S O L I TA I R E A N AT U R A L H IS TO RY

J O LYO N C . PA R I S H

INDIANA UNIVERSIT Y PRESS

Bloomington & Indianapolis

This book is a publication of Indiana University Press 601 North Morton Street Bloomington, Indiana 47404-3797 USA iupress.indiana.edu Telephone orders 800-842-6796 Fax orders 812-855-7931

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences – Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48–1992. Manufactured in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

© 2013 by Jolyon C. Parish All rights reserved A list of illustration credits appears at the end of the book. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The Association of American University Presses’ Resolution on Permissions constitutes the only exception to this prohibition.

Parish, Jolyon C., [date] The dodo and the solitaire : a natural history / Jolyon C. Parish. p. cm. – (Life of the past) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-253-00099-6 (cloth : alk. paper) – ISBN 978-0-253-00103-0 (e-book) 1. Dodo. 2. Solitaire (Bird) I. Title. QL696.C67P37 2013 598.9--dc23 2012023510

1 2 3 4 5

18 17 16 15 14 13

To Hugh Edwin Strickland (1811–1853) and Alexander Gordon Melville (1819–1901) and to my parents

C

Contents

ix

Acknowledgments

xi

Introduction: A Melancholy Visage

xvii

Note on Translations

xix

Notes on the Text

xxi

List of Abbreviations

1 3 15

Written Accounts of the Dodo First Encounters: Van Neck’s Account ”Cermes Gaensen”: The Journals of the Gelderland

22

Reyer Cornelisz’s Account

24

Van West-Zanen’s Account

27

Matelief’s Account

28

Van der Hagen’s Account

29

Johann Verken’s Account

30

Manuel de Almeida’s Account

30

The Altham Dodo

32

The Phœnix of Mauritius: Thomas Herbert’s Account

36

The Surat Dodos

38

The “Burgemeesters” (Anonymous 1631)

39

A “strange fowle”: L’Estrange’s Dodo

41

François Cauche’s Account

44

The Batavia Dodo

45

Castaways’ Tales: The Aernhem Disaster

48

The Last Days

52

The Red Rail and the Dodo

2 55

Written Accounts of the Rodrigues Solitaire Introduction

55

Memoirs of a Refugee: Leguat’s Account

63

Tafforet’s Account

64

Jonchée 1729

64

Gennes de la Chancelière 1733

65

D’Heguerty 1754

65

Cossigny 1755

65

Sic itur ad astra: The Visit of Alexandre-Guy Pingré

3 69 72

Contemporary Illustrations Introduction ”Unequalled of the Age”: Mansu¯r’s Dodo Painting (Mansu¯r)

75

The Dodo’s Portrait Painter: Roelandt Savery

87

Van der Venne’s Illustration (Van-der-Venne)

88

De Hondecoeter’s Dodo Paintings

92

Hans II Savery’s Dodo Illustrations

99

Saftleven’s Dodo Painting

99

Van den Broecke’s Dodo

101

Ruthart, Francken, and Van Thulden’s Paintings

104

The 2009 Christie’s Dodo Picture (Christie’s-Dronte)

105

Mistaken Identity: Minaggio’s Feather Picture

4

Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

107

Clusius’s Account

113

Plinius Secundus

114

Bontius’s Account

117

Nieuhof’s Account

119

Randle Holme’s The Academy of Armory

121

Post-traumatic Reminiscences: Bontekoe’s Account

123

South American Dodos: Van Spilbergen’s Account

124

Two Mauritian “Robinsonades”: Neville and Von Grimmelshausen

125

A Troubled Afterlife: Post-contemporary Accounts

134

Naming the Dodo and Solitaire

141

Pseudodoxia Epidemica: The Réunion Dodos

164

The Dodo and the Penguin

164

The “Dodo of Vere”

165

Dodo Miscellanea

5

Anatomical Evidences

169

Introduction

178

The Prague Dodo

190

The Copenhagen Dodo Head

195

The Anatomy School Dodos

198

Petrus Pauwius’s Dodo Foot

199

The British Museum Dodo Foot

210

The Tradescant Specimen

226

Resurrection: History of Bone Discoveries (1786–Present)

6

The Natural History of the Dodo and the Solitaire

265

Description

286

Ecology

316

Classification and Taxonomy

338

Phylogenetic Placement and Evolution

355

Taphonomy

7 371

Afterword: Memories of Green Rara Avis

375

Notes

383

Bibliography

399

Index

Acknowledgments

A

Many people have helped with this project. Where information has been generously provided they are mentioned in the main text. I would especially like to thank Anthony Cheke, Fanny Cornuault, Errol Fuller, Owen Griffiths, Alan Grihault, Jan den Hengst, Julian Hume, Anwar Janoo, Arturo Valledor de Lozoya, and Ralfe Whistler for assistance and scholarly discussion over the years. I am grateful to Nick Arnold, Fred Stone, Didier Dutheil, and Pierre Bourgault du Coudray for providing personal accounts of their discoveries. For their generous help I would like to thank Clair Castle, Ann Charlton, Adrian Friday, and Ray Symonds at Cambridge and Malgosia Nowak-Kemp at Oxford. I would like to express my thanks to Bob Sloan and the staff at Indiana University Press for all their help, and in particular to June Silay and Raina Polivka. I am also grateful to the staff at the British Library, NHM Libraries, Lampeter University Library, and The Plume Library, Maldon. For all their help and support I have to thank my parents and AEK Jan den Hengst, Anthony Cheke, Elio Corti, Birgit Jauker, Esther van Gelder, Florike Egmond, and Arturo Valledor de Lozoya provided assistance with translations. Jesper Düring Jørgensen, Kongelige Bibliotek, kindly provided a facsimile extract of Paludanus’s 1617–1618 MS. Arthur MacGregor, Hanneke Meijer, and Greg Middleton read through draft sections. I would like to thank Paul Barrett for suggesting, and putting me in contact with, Indiana University Press. The title of the afterword was borrowed from Vangelis (Blade Runner soundtrack, 1994; See You Later, 1980). An anonymous reviewer provided helpful comments and corrections on the book manuscript, and Dawn Ollila copyedited the text and gave helpful input.

ix

Introduction: A Melancholy Visage

The visage of the dodo, its plight, and extinction are indeed melancholic, but counter to Thomas Herbert’s statement, it is not “nature’s injurie” that is the cause of melancholy, but the destruction of the species and its habitat as a result of human activities. The pieces of this visage or picture are presented here; it is a picture that endures today. The dodo (Raphus cucullatus) and the solitaire (Pezophaps solitaria) were large, flightless columbids endemic to the volcanic Mascarene Islands in the Indian Ocean: the former to Mauritius and the latter to Rodrigues (figs. Intro.1–Intro.3). The dodo is renowned for being extinct; indeed, it is an icon of extinction. This, combined with its attractive appearance – great size, large head, small wings and rounded body (often exaggerated in pictures) – renders it a familiar bird. It disappeared within around one hundred years of its first recorded description and thus, although we have enough information to gain an idea of its appearance and ecology, there is insufficient evidence to form an accurate picture; this has led to many speculations. The story of the dodo, like that of the solitaire, has been pieced together from fragments, both literary and physical. “Dodology” – the study of the dodo (Oudemans 1917b) – entails knowledge of history, anatomy, ecology, art, and literature. Many hundreds of articles have been written about it (see the online bibliography in “The Dodologist’s Miscellany”) and it was, and still is, a popular inclusion in natural history books. The dodo was formerly known as Didus ineptus, under which name it is commonly found in older literature. Together, the dodo and Rodrigues solitaire are sometimes referred to as “didine” birds. The Réunion solitaire was formerly included in this group, but is now known to have been an ibis. However, the matter has been complicated by attribution of illustrations of white dodos to this bird. In the past, due to confusion, a so-called bird of Nazare was also sometimes included among the didine birds. Following the classification used herein, the dodo and solitaire are referred to as raphins (that is, of the tribe Raphini) in the text. The Mascarenes were probably discovered by the Arabs and subsequently by the Portuguese. The Dutch first landed on Mauritius in 1598 and were apparently the first to describe the dodo. No pre-1598 records are known for the dodo or solitaire (pers. obs.; Janoo 2005). It was common in the seventeenth century to refer to the lands of the Indian Ocean as the “East Indies” and to the lands east of Africa as “India.” Thus, any textual mentions of “Indian” birds should be investigated for potential references to the dodo. There have been speculations involving, among other things, seasonal and sexual size differences, color, and diet. As Van Wissen relayed, “Since

I this “mirae conformationis avi” Hamel (1848, 156)

The subject [of the dodo] indeed is well worn. Nevertheless the interest is great; for nothing ever clothed in feathers, either living or extinct, has so generally and universally occupied the minds of men as the species in question. Rowley (1877, 123)

In short . . . the Do Do is the most badly used bird in existence by some persons. Rowley (1877, 123)

Intro.1.  The Mascarene Islands. xi

Intro.2. Mauritius.

Dodology is spread over many disciplines there’s no interdisciplinary monitoring. . . . This has been the case from the very beginning and explains why there are more unrefuted speculations about the Dodo than any other bird” (1995, 8). Likewise, Fuller remarked: “Anyone delving into dodo literature should beware. Most of it is poorly written, badly conceived and contradictory” (2002, 30). Mistakes have often been repeated, with little or no reference to their source material. There has been much inferior scholarship in dodo research (a recent example being Pinto-Correia 2003). Moreover, suppositions have often been stated and re-stated as facts. Some contemporary accounts (e.g., Matelief 1646; Van der Hagen 1646; Van West-Zanen 1648) were published many years after the event. Furthermore, it is not known to what extent editors changed text or added material. Dissanayake ranked evidence based on Fuller (2002), stating, “Pictures have more value than written descriptions (descriptions are usually incomplete and subject to errors from memory or copying)” (2004, 166). However, images such as paintings may be composites (based on a number of sketches); may be subject to artistic license; and may be limited by the colors available, by the artist’s skill, and by the source used (for example, Van Kessel employed Van den Broecke’s engraving as a source and added his own imagined colors). It should be noted that the primary aim of most contemporary dodo artists was probably not necessarily to produce an anatomically accurate work, but an aesthetic and saleable one, although the still life and natural xii

Introduction

history paintings of the period were often accurate (cf. Van-Ravesteyn). Thus, the coloration of the dodo and other animals was probably altered to suit their position in, and the nature of, the composition. For example, the Savery-Dahlem dodo is white, as are adjacent animals, as it is in a very pale area of the painting. Painters often worked from sketches (as is the case of the works derived from the Savery-Crocker sketch) and may not have had accurate color references, relying instead on notes or memory or both. Furthermore, it should be noted that due to the nature of the publications, some dodo and solitaire illustrations might not have been particularly accurate. Engravings were often added to make works more saleable, and plates were sometimes composed of diverse elements put together to create a scene (such as Het tweede Boeck and the work of the De Brys). These were often based, at least partly, on written (and probably oral) descriptions or pure imagination. If the accounts were published some time after the actual voyage then these illustrations may have been less accurate. As such, the habitats in which the dodo is presented may not be representative of the actual. Moreover, travelers (such as Herbert and Leguat) were often not accomplished artists, and as such their work should be treated with some caution. Illustrations may have been added later from other sources when works were published (Van den Broecke’s dodo may be an example of this), and some may have been commissioned without any pictorial source, with only the text for inspiration (the illustrations accompanying Van WestZanen’s account being a possible example). There was also a tradition in the seventeenth century of creating paintings from preexisting engravings (for example, the illustrations of Van Kessel, Walther, and the Florence Codex). Introduction

Intro.3. Rodrigues.

xiii

Intro.4.  Reconstruction of the head of the dodo (Strickland and Melville 1848, pl. v, fig. 2).

Also to be noted is the fact that by copying illustrations to make engravings the resulting picture becomes a mirror image of the original. Examples of such copies include the engravings of De Bry and De Bry (1601, copied from Het tweede Boeck 1601) and Jonstonus (1650, copied from Clusius 1605). Another point to be mentioned is that it was the artistic style of the period to show the two feet the same, and many dodo illustrations show two left or two right feet. The same caution to be taken with the illustrations also applies to written accounts. Text was often copied from other works. There are also instances of changes to the original in the published text (see chapter 1) and text inserted at a later date (see Von Mandelslo: chapter 1; Stokram’s description may be another example). Also, it is sometimes difficult to ascertain whether an account was created from secondhand or original eyewitness information (e.g., Cauche 1651). Furthermore, color description can be vague – “gray” can cover a wide variety of tones and colors. A similar circumstance is evident with the cassowary, of which the first specimen was brought to Europe in 1598. The cassowary was described as lacking a tongue and was thought to shed and regrow its casque with its plumage (e.g., Clusius 1605). It was also said to eat anything offered to it, even live coals. The first two statements, at least, were later proved incorrect, showing that old accounts are not always accurate. Copyright was rarely upheld in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and as such extracts and sometimes even large pieces of text were lifted without attribution from previous authors’ works: “People simply borrowed, pirated or stuck in bits at will, with or without acknowledging their sources just so long as the result was tasteful and saleable” (Van Wissen 1995, 24). Examples of this include Soeteboom’s edition of Van West-Zanen’s journal, and Nieremberg and Jonstonus’s use of Clusius’s text. The ecology of the Mascarenes is discussed in more detail in Cheke and Hume (2008) and the reader is referred to this work for further information. This book also contains details on the potential foods of the dodo and solitaire and the invasive species of the islands. Much of this volume is a compilation of previous ideas. With so much unknown about the dodo and solitaire, it is easy to speculate and there have

xiv

Introduction

been many such speculations. Those of dubious veracity are commented upon, but many cannot be proven one way or the other. The dodo’s story is one of kunstkammers, long ocean voyages, and traveler’s tales. The information herein aims to provide an accurate, comprehensive picture of the birds, their history, and afterlife – thus allowing a fuller appreciation of them. When one thinks of the small extent of this islet, one can hardly be surprised that these animals, formerly so common, completely disappeared; in spite of their fecundity, they could not resist such means of destruction. What we note for the tortoises had to also occur for the terrestrial birds; it is obvious that the sailors cannot be blamed for pursuing and killing them. These species, whose poorly developed wings made capture easy, at the same time as the tastiness of their flesh made them sought after, were bound to die out quickly. To explain their extinction it is thus not necessary to invoke changes in their biological conditions. The action of man was easy enough, it was exerted there without obstacles and with greater facility than everywhere else; it continues on many other points of the globe, and as of today one can envisage the time when many apterous birds, large Cetacea and certain species of seals and sea-lions will have been destroyed by man. (Milne-Edwards 1875, 20)

Intro.5.  Hugh Edwin Strickland (1811–1853), with a copy of Strickland and Melville (1848). Engraved by Thomas Herbert Maguire from a photograph by Philip Henry Delamotte in 1853. “T. H. Maguire, Lith. – De La Motte, Photoh – M. & N. Hanhart, Impt” (from Jardine 1858).

Intro.6.  Dodo reconstruction by Rowland Ward, Ltd., Royal Scottish Museum, Edinburgh (Renshaw 1931 [photograph by Graham Renshaw, “Courtesy of Dr. Ritchie”]). Introduction

xv

Note on Translations

N

For ease of reading, non–English language texts have been translated, with new translations made of the accounts. Those who wish to consult the original texts are directed to “The Dodologist’s Miscellany” at http://sites .google.com/site.dodologistsmiscellany/. This resource also contains some of the derivative texts of contemporary accounts for comparison. The texts have been translated as accurately as possible, although unfortunately, this has sometimes been at the expense of readability.

xvii

Notes on the Text

N

Dutch surnames are abbreviated, as is commonly done, so that Harmansz is Harmanszoon (Harmanszen), Evertsz is Evertszen, and so on. Names such as Reyer, Holsteyn, and Ravesteyn are spelled thus, instead of Reijer, Holsteijn, and Ravesteijn (unless they are modern names). In text relating to the Mascarenes, summer and winter refer to the seasons in the Southern Hemisphere: summer being November to April, and winter May to October (Grihault 2005b). In the hot season there are cyclones and heavy rainfall, and in the cooler season there are cold winds and less rain (Grihault 2005b). Mauritius has limited seasonality, but is subject to trade winds from the southeast. For ease of reading, the contemporary illustrations are referred to by a hyphenated abbreviation: for example, Roelandt Savery’s painting in the Mauritshuis collection, The Hague, is referred to as Savery-Mauritshuis; and Van der Venne’s illustration as Van-der-Venne. In the older literature, Mauritius is sometimes referred to as Île de France and Réunion as Île Bourbon. In the text solitaire refers to the Rodrigues solitaire (Pezophaps solitaria), and Réunion solitaire refers to the Réunion ibis (Threskiornis solitarius). Maroon (Marron) slaves are runaway slaves. It should also be noted that only those voyages that contain accounts of the dodo are mentioned herein. Many other ships stopped at Mauritius but left no record of the dodo (see Bruijn et al. 2004 for further details). All observations of dead birds made by the author were made from individuals found already dead. This volume is part of a larger corpus of work, the remainder of which, comprising “The Dodologist’s Miscellany,” is available online at http://sites .google.com/site/dodologistsmiscellany/.

The following conversions have been used in the text:

Measurements

· English inch = 25.4 mm, foot = 30.48 cm, yard = 91.44 cm · Amsterdam duim (inch) = 25.7 mm · Vienna line = 2.20 mm (Frey and Cutter 1872, giving 1 Vienna inch as 26.34 mm) · Rhenish line = 2.18 mm (Frey and Cutter 1872) · Eighteenth-century Paris inch = 27 mm, foot (Pied de Roi) = 32.47 cm · Nineteenth-century Paris foot = 32.48 cm, giving 1 Paris inch = 27.07 mm xix

· English pound = 453.59 g · French livre (pound) = 489.5 g In nineteenth-century Germany the Paris inch was usually used, although the Vienna inch or the Rhenish inch were also used (Frey and Cutter 1872). Some measurements from German-language articles have not been converted due to this ambiguity. It should be remembered that measurements are approximate, because the exact lengths of many seventeenth- and eighteenth-century measures are not known, and because most measurements given by authors were probably only estimates.

xx

Notes on the Text

Abbreviations

AMS b. BAAS BCE BM BMNH

Ashmolean Manuscript born British Association for the Advancement of Science Before the Common Era British Museum British Museum (Natural History)

bp

Before Present (1950 CE)

CE

Common Era

CI

confidence interval

D-

document in the UMZC “Dodo Book” Archive (see Rookmaaker 2010)

d.

died

DRP

the Dodo Research Programme (2005–2009)

fol.

folio

foll.

folios

Ma

million years (ago/old)

MAD

Madagascar (including the Mascarenes) material, MNHN

MI

Mauritius Institute

ML

maximum likelihood

MNHN MPT MS MTMD Naturalis n.d. NHM PCR pers. comm.

A

Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle, Paris (known as the Museum of the Jardin des Plantes before 1793) most parsimonious tree manuscript Mon Trésor Mon Désert, Ltd. Nationaal Natuurhistorisch Museum, Leiden no date The Natural History Museum, London polymerase chain reaction personal communication (via letter or e-mail). Refers to a communication to the author, unless otherwise stated. xxi



r recto

RSASM Royal Society of Arts and Sciences of Mauritius SEM scanning electron microscope TNO T NO Bouw en Ondergrond (Geological Survey of the Netherlands) UCB Université Claude Bernard-Lyon 1, France UMZC University Museum of Zoology, Cambridge University

v verso

VOC Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie ZSL Zoological Society of London

xxii

Abbreviations

The Dodo and the Solitaire

1.1. The Dutch on Mauritius, with cassowaries (De Bry and De Bry 1600/1601a, pl. iii).

Written Accounts of the Dodo

The first eyewitnesses of the dodo to record its appearance were the Dutchmen and Zeelanders of the fleet of Admiral Jacob Cornelisz van Neck. These were part of the second expedition to the East Indies, the Tweede Schipvaart. The fleet consisted of eight ships: the flagship Mauritius (with Van Neck on board), the Amsterdam (with Vice-Admiral Wybrand van Warwijck on board), the Hollant, the Overijssel, the Gelderland, the Zeelandt, the Utrecht, and the yacht Vrieslandt. The eight ships departed from Texel in the Netherlands on May 1, 1598. During a storm near the Cape of Good Hope on August 8 the fleet was split up; the Amsterdam, the Gelderland, the Zeelandt, the Utrecht and the Vrieslandt headed for Mauritius, then known as Ilha do Cerne, whilst the others sailed to Île Sainte-Marie off the coast of Madagascar. Van Warwijck became commander of his small fleet, and Jacob van Heemskerk vice-commander. Having sighted land at around one o’clock in the afternoon on September 17, the Dutch approached; they were uncertain as to whether it was the Ilha do Cerne or Rodrigues. Van Warwijck’s five ships were at the island from September 18 until October 2. They anchored off the southeast coast and sent men ashore to search for food and fresh water. This was their first landfall since departing from the Netherlands. After the initial excursion a second was made – by a sloop from the Amsterdam and one from the Gelderland; they found a good harbor (Mahébourg Bay), which they named Warwijck Bay. Fresh water was found and toward evening the men came back with eight or nine large birds: dodos (see below; Hamel [1848] noted that these could not have been herons, as the latter could not be easily captured [Anon. 1601a]) and many small birds, which they had caught by hand. The following morning, September 19, the ships sailed into Warwijck Bay and sailors went ashore again to collect food, including dodos and other birds. The officers of the Amsterdam, the Utrecht, the Zeelandt and the Vrieslandt thought that the island was Rodrigues, whereas those of the Gelderland correctly considered it to be Ilha do Cerne (Den Hengst 2003). The island was renamed Mauritius in honor of Stadhouder Maurits van Nassau. September 20 was the Amsterdam kermis or fair (see below) and a service of thanksgiving was held (Van Wissen 1995). Later that day, first one half of the crew, and then the other, went ashore (see Jolinck’s description below). On September 21 a council held on board the Amsterdam decided that there should be further excursions inland; there were eight expeditions in total (Moree 1998).1 There were expeditions inland on September 22–24 and 26–29 (led by Wouter Willekens with 10 men; the latter expedition went 17 miles along

1 First Encounters: Van Neck’s Account

3

the shore to the western part of Warwijck Harbor) and on September 23–25 (led by Rochus Pietersz with 10 men). There were two excursions to the northeastern part of the harbor, led by Jolinck: September 23–27 (with Hans Bouwer and Jacob Pietersz) and September 28–October 1 (with Frank van der Does). On September 26 and 28 Van Warwijck sent expeditions to the islands in the harbor, including Île de la Passe (Moree 1998). They found the island to be fertile and uninhabited, despite several inland forays – a paradise with fresh water, easily caught birds and useful plants: we iudged by the tamenesse of the birds and fowles, that it must bee an vnfrequented place, by reason that men might take them plentifully with their hands. (Anon. 1601c, fol. 5v)

A variety of new fauna and flora was seen, including “Rabos Forcados” (Fregata ariel), turtledoves (Nesoenas mayeri), green and gray parrots, tortoises, many types of fish, and trees such as ebony and palms. The turtledoves were in such abundance that they caught over 150 in an afternoon. On October 2 the Dutch sailed from Mauritius (Anon. 1601c). On November 26, the Hollant, the Mauritius, and the Overijssel arrived at Bantam in Java. The Vrieslandt subsequently joined up with Van Neck’s fleet, and on December 27, the Amsterdam, the Gelderland, the Vrieslandt, the Zeelandt, and the Utrecht arrived at Engano, Sumatra. The ships met up in the East Indies and exchanged information. On January 12, 1599, the Mauritius, the Hollant, the Overijssel, and the Vrieslandt – under the command of Admiral Van Neck and Vice-admiral Jan Jansz Karel – departed from Bantam. Having visited St. Helena, they arrived back at Texel on July 19. Of these ships only the Vrieslandt had visited Mauritius. There was much interest in the voyage. Van Neck was responsible for the published accounts, although of course he did not visit Mauritius. A provisional report in Dutch, the Waarachtige Beschryving, was published, probably in Amsterdam. Unfortunately, no extant copy of this is known. However, we do have the English translation (Anon. 1599). The Waarachtige Beschryving gives the report of the voyage of the ships Mauritius, Hollant, and Overijssel. The identity of its editor is not known, but was probably Cornelis Claesz of Amsterdam. According to Keuning (1940), its author was not on either the Mauritius or the Hollant, and it was probably the journal of Wouter Willekens – who sailed on the Utrecht but returned to Holland on the Vrieslandt as mate, and who took part in excursions inland on Mauritius – that was the source. However, it could be that the author was on the Overijssel (perhaps Symen Jansz Hoen, the ship’s captain) and recorded the oral communications of Willekens or others who had been on the Vrieslandt, or had used information from a journal of that vessel. The journal of Jacob Pietersz, who was quartermaster on the Amsterdam but returned as captain of the Vrieslandt, was not used (Keuning 1940). On August 20, 1599, the journal of Hoen was “behandicht” to Petrus Plancius (Pieter Platevoet, 1552–1622). This is now lost, as are the journals of Pieter Jansz Borre, Pieter Gijsbrechtsz, and Willem Jansz. The journals of Willekens and Pietersz were also handed to Plancius (Keuning 1940).

4

The Dodo and the Solitaire

In the Waarachtige Beschryving, Mauritius was evidently identified as Isola de don Galopes (i.e., Rodrigues) and the dodos were called “walchstocken.” In the English edition (Anon. 1599) we learn that at Warwijck Bay they tarried 12 daies to refresh themselues, finding in this place great quantity of foules twise as bigge as swans, which they called Walghstocks or Wallowbirdes being very good meat. But finding also aboundance of pidgeons & popiniayes, they disdained any more to eat of those great foules, calling them (as before) Wallowbirds, that is to say, lothsome or fulsome birdes. (Anon. 1599, 16–17)

The description, being only a provisional one, contained some inaccuracies, such as the fact that a dodo was twice as big as a swan. The dodos were named “wallowbirdes”; the dialect word wallow is related to the Middle Dutch walghe and means tasteless, insipid, or sickly (Simpson and Weiner 1989; see chapter 4). Jakob Friedlieb provided a German translation: There it [Mauritius] also has birds of the size of two swans, called Walchstöck or Walchvögel, convenient to eat, but [the sailors] were so greedy after the fat and good pigeons and parrots, of which [there were] a large number and they could obtain enough, that they did not desire the large birds, [and] instead they managed with the pigeons and parrots, also ravens, and fish, of which [there was] such an abundance that two [men could catch] as many fish as five ships could need. (Friedlieb 1599, 68)

The brothers De Bry also published a German translation in their Vierder Theil Der Orientalischen Indien (De Bry and De Bry 1600). The Vierder Theil (or fourth part) was finished in February 1600 (Hamel 1848). The brothers De Bry had never been to Mauritius and gathered all the material for their descriptions secondhand. The text was translated from the Dutch by M. Gotthard Arthus of Dantzig and the De Brys added the plates. In the “True description of the last journey that the Dutch made to the East Indies which departed in the spring of the year 1598 and with four ships again luckily arrived home in the month July of the year 1599,” they wrote, There were also many birds found [on] the same [island] that were as large as two swans and were named VValchstocken or VValckvogels, their flesh is good to eat; however, because [on] the same [island] also a great multitude of pigeons and parrots were available, which were fat and good to eat, our people have not nearly sought after those large birds, but had enough of the fat pigeons, and good-tasting parrots, particularly also many ravens, and [also] as a large multitude of fish was available. That two people in a short time could catch enough for all five ships. (De Bry and De Bry 1600, 114–115)

Plate 3, entitled “How the Dutch found such oversized tortoises on the island Mauritius,” depicts a fanciful rendition of the Dutch on that island. The copper-engraved plate (fig. 1.1), drawn by the brothers De Bry, is based on the accompanying description rather than on illustrations from life – the same was the case for many of their plates. The dodos depicted are actually cassowaries,2 apparently copied either from an engraving by Hans Sibmacher or that in Lodewijcksz (1598) (fig. 1.2), and the tortoises and palm trees are mostly guesswork. The important thing was to promote the East Indian voyages and make a saleable work, even if the images were not entirely accurate. A mention of the dodo is included at the bottom of the plate:

Written Accounts of the Dodo

5

1.2.  Top: Hans Sibmacher’s cassowary (Hulsius 1598). Bottom: Lodewijcksz’s (1598) cassowaries.

In the reported island they found a great abundance of pigeons and parrots, which were so tame, that they were able to heap [up] the same, struck dead with cudgels or Pengeln. Furthermore, they also found other strange birds, which they named Walckvögel, one of which they have also brought with them into Holland.

Of importance here is the note that a dodo was brought back to Holland. It has been speculated that this dodo was therefore probably conveyed from Mauritius on board the Vrieslandt, commanded by Jan Kornelisz May, and was probably the same bird as the Prague dodo (see chapter 5). However, this is unlikely. Hume (2006) stated that the De Brys had access to the journals and the ships’ captains and crews. However, the text, at least that relating to the dodo, would appear to be taken from the published accounts, as it is similar to that of Anon. (1599). The plate itself shows numerous inaccuracies, such as tortoises that are too large and having shells of inaccurate pattern and shape, and 6

The Dodo and the Solitaire

1.3.  Another version of the plate (Manesson-Mallet 1683, fig. xliii.).

“broom-like” palms. The use of cassowaries (which were also reproduced on the title page) and the general inaccuracies of the figure have led several authors to the conclusion that the brothers De Bry were mistaken concerning the importation of a dodo to Holland, and that there was confusion with the cassowary brought back in 1597. Subsequent works also included versions of this engraving, for example Manesson-Mallet (1683; see fig. 1.3). The brothers De Bry also published a Latin translation (De Bry and De Bry 1601a). The text was translated from the German by Bilibaldus Strobaeus of Silesia. The Qvarta Pars bears the date August 6, 1601, in the foreword (Oudemans 1917b). The Rest of the Fleet Returns The Gelderland and the Zeelandt departed from Bantam on August 19, stopped at St. Helena from December 8 to January 1, 1600, and arrived back on May 19. Finally, the Amsterdam and the Utrecht departed from Bantam on January 21, 1600, stopped at St. Helena from May 17 to 21 and at Written Accounts of the Dodo

7

Ascension from May 30 to 31, and eventually arrived back at Texel in September of that year. Upon their return the crews were able to share their accounts of Mauritius and a more comprehensive report could be published. Only two copies of the 1600 edition, published by Cornelis Claesz (Anon. 1600), remain; these are now in New York (New York Public Library) and Greenwich, London (Caird Library, National Maritime Museum). This edition, which included the first published image of the dodo, was subsequently revised and translated several times. The 1601 Dutch edition was entitled Het tweede Boeck (The second book [Anon. 1601a]). Use was made of the journals of Van Neck, Van Warwijck, and Jacob van Heemskerk (Van Wissen 1995). The main journal used in the production of the published account was probably that of the Amsterdam, as we have the accounts from the other journals (see below). However, due to discrepancies in the text, it is possible that there were other additional sources used. Keuning (1938–1951) stated that three journals, now lost, were used, and that the author was on board the Gelderland. In the account, we find an update of the accounts mentioned above:

1.4.  Plate 2 from Het tweede Boeck (Anon. 1601a, fol. 7r). The dodo is no. 2.

The boat came again towards the evening to the Vice-Admiral, and now had brought eight or nine large and very many small birds, which they had seized by hand. (fol. 3v) Also there are more other [kinds of] birds, that are as large as our swans, with large heads, and on their head a skin as if they had a little cap on their head, they have no wings, then in the place of their wings stand three or four black little

1.5.  The dodo from Het tweede Boeck (Anon. 1601a). 8

The Dodo and the Solitaire

feathers, and where their tail should stand they have four or five small curled plumes, that are grayish in color. These birds we named Walchvoghels, in part for that, although we boiled them long, they were very tough for eating, yet the stomach [along] with the breast were very good, from the other reason, that we could obtain a multitude of turtledoves, which to us were relatively appealing of taste. (fol. 6r)

Under the heading “How we lived on the island Mauritius otherwise named Do Cerne” we find the following entry: 2. This bird is as large as a swan, [we have] given him the name Walch voghel, because we caught enough of the tasty doves and other small birds that we cared no more for this bird. (fol. 7r)

Below is a copper-engraved figure of the Dutch on Mauritius, reproduced from Anon. (1600), which depicts the dodo (figs. 1.4 and 1.5). This figure is evidently taken from a sketch in one of the original journals. The unknown artist has created a composite image, probably made partly after sketches in the ships’ journals, partly from descriptions, and partly from the artist’s imagination. There are many inaccuracies, such as the attitude of the fruit bat and the shape of the tortoises. The dodo, however, looks to be a reasonable representation and resembles that of Clusius (1605; see chapter 4). Oudemans (1917b) believed it was probably drawn from life; in contrast, Grihault (2005b) thought that it was drawn from “scraps of hearsay evidence.” Fuller (2002) thought that the fact that the dodo is shown near the shore might be of significance, although this is due to the artist’s imagination, and Schlegel (1858) considered the illustration to be much more natural and accurate than other dodo pictures of the period. Hachisuka noted that the sketch from Van Neck’s journal “may not be exceptionally well executed, but shows, nevertheless, two remarkable features, namely a closed beak and an egg-shaped body supported by long legs” and speculated, “This is doubtless the characteristic pose of the bird during the period between the summer and winter seasons. The dapper stride (all the figures in the cut are represented as in motion) is altogether in harmony with the general figure of the Solitaires” (1953, 72). This figure was much copied (see below). A version, after that of the De Brys, was even used to represent St. Losie, Madagascar, in an edition of Bontekoe’s voyage (Bontekoe n.d.). Later in the account, the description of the dodo is expanded: 2. Is a bird which is called Walg-vogel upright as large as a swan, having a round rump, with two or three curled feathers thereupon, they have no wings, in place of them three or four black small feathers stand, of these [birds] we have caught a portion with turtledoves and other birds, that our companions caught first [when they] went on land with sloops to look for the deepest fresh rivers, and [to ascertain] if our ships may put in therein, during which [time] they had caught these [birds], and how with great joy [came] again on board, shared out to each ship some of their roast game that they had caught, where after we went to the harbor the next day, and took in each ship one of these companions [who] had been on land before, to be a pilot. We have cooked this bird, but it was so tough that we could not cook it done, but had to eat it half-done. As soon as we were in the harbor our Vice-Admiral sent us with some people in the sloop onto the land, to see if there were any people [there]on, but [we] have learned of no people, rather a great multitude of turtledoves and other birds, that we with a great multitude [i.e., that a great many of us] struck dead with sticks and caught, because also then no people lived there and made them afraid, so they were not afraid of us, but remained Written Accounts of the Dodo

1.6. The Het tweede Boeck dodo combined with the outline skeleton (see chapter 3). 9

sitting, and let them[selves] be smitten dead. In summation, it is a land full of fish and fowl, as abundant as any on this voyage that we have found. (fol. 7v)

It is clear from the text that at least two sources were used to produce the above account, as the main text mentions the tail having “four or five small curled plumes [pluymkens],” whereas the caption for figure 2 mentions only “two or three curled feathers [veertgiens].” Hachisuka, however, thought that “the obscurity of some of the expressions in the earliest account of this voyage . . . may be due to the fact that many notes were added either by the original compiler after he had returned to Holland, or by the publisher” (1953, 49). However, there is no evidence that the publisher embellished the descriptions of the dodo. Staub considered the description to describe the dodo in its “gaunt” phase (1996, see chapter 6). The above account of the dodo was copied many times and used by subsequent authors – those who had been to Mauritius and those who had not. The dodo had become an object of fascination, which was heightened by the description and figure of it. Translations were published in English, French, German, and Latin. The text was translated into English by William Walker (Anon. 1601c). A French edition also soon appeared (Anon. 1601b). Here it was stated, These birds were named by us birds of nausea, partly because they needed so long to cook, were very tough, [and] in addition, they punished the stomach & breast, partly because we had enough turtledoves, which were much more delicate & tasty. (Anon. 1601b, foll. 2v, 3r)

Camus stated that the French edition “is of a barbarian, half-Latin, half-Dutch style; a multitude of misprints make it still more deformed” (1802, 214). Figure 2 from Het tweede Boeck was reprinted, and in the caption the text was altered slightly, so that the dodo was stated to be similar (a l’instar) to a swan. The brothers De Bry published a German translation of the account, in part 5 of the Orientalischen Indien (De Bry and De Bry 1601b). The text was translated from the Dutch by Gotthard Arthus. The copper-engraved title page shows a pair of dodos on the upper left and upper right sides, standing on pedestals (figs. 1.7 and 1.9). Oudemans (1917b) considered these figures of the De Brys to be probably female and to represent the “round form.” Furthermore, he thought that these dodos (1601b, 1601c) were copies from original drawings in the journals of Van Neck, drawn from life. This assumption was reached from the numerous differences between the figure in Het tweede Boeck and De Bry’s title plate and the attitude of the neck and feet being too “natural.” However, the figures on title page of De Bry’s works were almost certainly drawn after the figure in Het tweede Boeck, perhaps modified using the accompanying description, for example the “round, almost spherical” body (however, the nostril is placed in the correct position, a feature not very clear from the Het tweede Boeck figure). The bat in the top center of the plate was drawn after the same source as that in Het tweede Boeck and is almost identical to it. The same is true of the tortoises at the bottom corners. The copper-engraved plates bear the introduction, “By Iohan Theodor and Iohan Israel de Bry, brothers. Published at Franckfurt am Mayn, by Matthæum Becker.” Plate 1 shows Warwijck Bay: “Depiction of the Island 10

The Dodo and the Solitaire

1.7.  Dodos from the title page of De Bry and De Bry (1601c, Latin edition, with German title page, 1601b).

Do Cerne otherwise named Mauritius.” Plate 2 includes the dodo (fig. 1.8) and underneath is this caption: 2. This is a bird, called by the Dutch Walg Vogel, is of the size of a swan, with a thick head, in place of the wings has only 3 or 4. quills, the body is round, in place of the tail are only 3 or 4. crinkled small feathers. These they cooked, but they were unpleasant to eat.

Obviously, there has been a change in the text, as the caption for plate 2 mentions that the tail has three or four plumes, whereas Het tweede Boeck and its subsequent translations mention only two or three. The plate has also been reversed and altered by the De Brys in several details, one of which is that the beak of the dodo, rather than its head, lies in front of the trunk of the palm tree, as seen in Het tweede Boeck. The brothers De Bry went on to publish a Latin edition of part 5, the Qvinta Pars (De Bry and De Bry 1601c), which bears the details Frankfurt am Main, August 20, 1601, in the foreword (Millies 1868). The title page also shows dodos, as in the German edition (fig. 1.9). The text was translated from the German of Gotthart Artus by Bilibaldus Strobaeus. In the text, four or five tail plumes have become “a few curved delicate feathers [pennæ].” It was also noted that the dodos “bellies & breasts tasted pleasant & were easy to masticate” (De Bry and De Bry 1601c, 7). The “true and accurate” plates were engraved in copper with “attentive industry and diligence” by the De Bry brothers. Plate 2 is identical to that of the German edition and the text below the plate mentions, Its body is round, almost spherical. The tail is lacking, in which place four curled feathers are seen.

Written Accounts of the Dodo

1.8.  Dodos from other editions of the Het tweede Boeck plate. Left: De Bry and De Bry (1601b, pl. 2). Middle: “Ins. De Cerne a. Nostratibus Mauritius Nominata,” 1651. Right: Hulsius (1608).

11

1.9.  Title page of the Latin edition (De Bry and De Bry 1601c).

The four curled tail feathers of the German edition are repeated here also. A copy of one of the dodos from the brothers De Bry’s work (fig. 1.10) is one of four dodos (Brial 2006; see also chapter 4), marginal illustrations, in the parchment codex “Officium Beatae Mariae Virginis” housed in the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence (Banco Rari 66). These images are undated, but according to the “tabulae temporaria” the work was begun c. 1703 and finished c. 1730 (Arturo Valledor de Lozoya, pers. comm., September 11, 2009). At least four artists painted the many illustrations. Oudemans (1917b) dated the two dodo images to possibly around 1710. The work probably belonged to Franz Stephan of Lorraine and thence passed into the Habsburg line. The dodo images themselves were rediscovered by Sebastian Killermann during Easter 1913 (Killermann 1915). The De Bry dodo is colored red with white wings and tail (Killermann 1915). Although the image has been dated to the early eighteenth century, Oudemans (1917b) 12

The Dodo and the Solitaire

1.10.  Dodos from the Florence Codex. Left: after De Bry and De Bry. Right: The “Dodo of Florence” (Oudemans 1917b, pl. iv, fig. 7; pl. ii, fig. 3 [respectively]).

thought that it was a copy of a much older picture and considered the possibility that the original from which the brothers De Bry copied their title-page dodos from was in Italy. Hachisuka (1953) thought that if the Florentine sketches were copies of older works then they must have been from specimens brought to Genoa, possibly in 1634. These suggestions are almost certainly incorrect. The compilation Begin ende Voortgangh (Commelin 1646) reused the plates of Het tweede Boeck, although changing them slightly (removing the caption “No2” and adding “n. 3”). An additional German edition of Van Neck’s account was published in Nüremberg by Levinus Hulsius. In it he stated, where the tail should stand, they have 4. or 5. small bent plumes. . . . The stomach was, together with the breast, almost good. (1602, 14).

A second German edition by Hulsius was published in Frankfurt (Hulsius 1605). The bottom figure of the plate opposite page 12 shows another variation of the Het tweede Boeck plate (fig. 1.11). A later edition of Van Neck’s account (Saeghman 1663) further confuses the dodo-cassowary issue by illustrating a cassowary accompanying the text relating to the dodo. Van Neck’s account was used for many later descriptions, including that of John Ogilby (1670). As the text was copied so changes crept in; for example, Ogilby stated that the longer the flesh was boiled the tougher it became. The published accounts of these first eyewitnesses of the dodo were much plagiarized, as seen above, and had much influence on later descriptions. It is difficult in many cases to determine which parts of subsequent descriptions are original and the degree of influence and copying from the published accounts of Van Warwijck’s visit to Mauritius. The handwritten journals of other captains and sailors supplement the published accounts. These are preserved in the Algemeen Rijsarchief in The Hague, in the Archief van de Compagnieën op Oost-Indië 1594–1603. Unfortunately, however, the three main journals upon which Het tweede Written Accounts of the Dodo

13

1.11.  Hulsius’s version of the plate (Hulsius 1608).

Boeck is based are not preserved (Keuning 1938–1951; Van Wissen 1995). Of the ships that visited Mauritius in 1598 only the journals of the Gelderland, the Utrecht, the Zeelandt, and the Vrieslandt are extant; that of the Amsterdam is lost. It is possible that the journal of the Amsterdam contained sketches of the dodo that were the originals for the published images in Het tweede Boeck and Clusius (1605). The journal of Jacob van Heemskerk (Journaal 51), kept on the Gelderland from May 1, 1598 to May 19, 1600, records in the entry for October 1, There is a sort of bird as large as a goose, having the body of an ostrich, the feet of an eagle, with a very large beak like a . . . bird, with little feathers over the body, the wings of the size of [those of] a teal, very fat, when plucked apparently very good, yet tough skinned; I have said of the size of a goose, larger than a swan. (De Jonge 1864, 393)

Van Heemskerk seemingly had difficulty in thinking of a familiar bird with a beak of comparable size. In the Journal of steersman Heyndrick Dirrecksen Jolinck (Journaal 60; journal kept May 1, 1598–August 14, 1600), kept on the Vrieslandt (and from January 8, 1599, on the Amsterdam), the entry for September 20 reads, Furthermore, we have found large birds, having wings as large as [those of] a dove, so that they cannot fly and are named penguins by the Portuguese. These afore-mentioned birds have a stomach so large that 2 men can make a delicious meal and is also the best-tasting [part] that there is of the bird. (fol. 46; Keuning 1938–1951, 5(1):62) 14

The Dodo and the Solitaire

Here we have an important piece of information: the Portuguese called them “penguins.” Jolinck went to Portugal when he was 17 or 18 and learned Portuguese (Jolink 2006). However, the Portuguese referred to the Cape Penguin (Spheniscus demersus) as Sotilicayros (see chapter 4). The use of the name “penguins” by Jolinck was suggested by Hume (2006) to be derived from the Portuguese pinion, “clipped wings.” This is, however, unlikely; the name penguin was originally applied to the Great Auk (Pinguinus impennis) and only later became confused with its southern counterparts. Jolinck may have heard that the Portuguese had encountered large flightless birds (true penguins) on their voyages and later, when on Mauritius, assumed that they were the same – and, as a result, called the dodo a penguin (see chapter 4). Indeed, at least some of the sailors were probably familiar with the Great Auk from previous voyages to the north. The journal of Reyer Cornelisz (Journaal 62; kept May 1, 1598–August 19, 1600), kept on the Utrecht, notes in the entry for September 19 that they brought many large birds [on board] ship [which] were like the penguins, but they were as much as two times as large as penguins; these cannot fly subsequently [as they] have small wings without feathers and they went upright on their feet as though they were a human yet they [were] reasonable of taste yet tough and [the island was] also overflowing [with] many doves and parrots, those were so tame that one struck them dead with sticks; this occurred [on the] evening [of the] fair [kermijs]. (fol. 28; Keuning 1938–1951, 5(2):29)

Again, we find the mention of penguins. In the journal of Philips Grimmaert, ship’s carpenter (or steersman) on the Zeelandt (Journaal 54; kept May 1, 1598–April 30, 1600), we read that: Here were also large birds which were as large as lambs which we also struck dead and ate; we called them doedersen. (Keuning 1938–1951, 4:170)

Here we also have another name for the dodo (see chapter 4). Thus, the description and image of this striking bird was established in the culture of the Europeans.

The fleet of Wolfert Harmansz, the Vijfde Schipvaart, departed from Texel on April 23, 1601. The fleet consisted of three large ships: the flagship Gelderland, the Zeelandt, and the Utrecht and two smaller vessels: the Duyfje and the Wachter. On September 20 the fleet was at Rodrigues, which they named Kermiseiland (Fair Island) after the Amsterdam Fair (Moree 2001; see chapter 2). On September 26 the fleet was in sight of Mauritius and Harmansz decided to reprovision there. They stayed at Mauritius from September 27 to October 20 (early summer: Staub 1996). At around noon on September 27 the fleet anchored off Morne Brabant and sailors disembarked (Barnwell 1948), “bringing tidings that there were enough birds.”3 The sick were taken ashore and supplies were collected. On September 29 they sailed to Black River Bay for better anchorage (Hume 2003; or, less likely, Tamarin Bay [Pitot 1905]). From October 4 to 11 the Wachter with three boats explored around the coast to the west and circumnavigated the island (Moree 1998). The Duyfje sailed around to Warwijck Bay in order to confirm that the island was indeed Mauritius (Den Hengst Written Accounts of the Dodo

“Cermes Gaensen”: The Journals of the Gelderland

15

2003). The fleet left Mauritius for Bantam on October 20 (Moree 1998). The Gelderland, the Zeelandt, and the Duyfje arrived in Holland in spring 1603 after having visited the Spice Islands. An account of the voyage was published in 1646 (Commelin 1646), but no mention of the dodo was made. The two-volume MS journal kept on the flagship Gelderland is held in the Archief van de Compagnieën op Oost-Indië 1594–1603, in the Algemeen Rijsarchief, The Hague, number 1.04.01, inventory numbers 135 and 136 (Bijlsma 1936). It is bound in vellum, and handwritten with accompanying illustrations (Den Hengst 2003). The journal, with the title “Journal or day-register beginning 22 April Anno 1601 on the ship Gelderlandt,” belongs to the smaller journals from the period of the Voorcompagnieën, in contrast to the numerous ship’s journals of the Tweede Schipvaart (Moree 2001). It was kept from April 22, 1601, to April 14, 1603. The first volume, the account of the voyage, bears the words “Dorscher 1598” on the cover. It contains seven pages of bird drawings and the account of the voyage by Symon Jacobsz (with additions by Harmansz [Van Hoof 1995]). The two volumes were originally intended for the ships Dorscher and Mayer and were reused. Several hands are evident in the journal (Fuller 2002); it was probably written, at least in part, by Jacobsz, although some sections are in the handwriting of Harmansz (Van Hoof 1995). This volume also contains sketches of tortoises and fish. The second volume bears the words “Mayer 1598” on the cover and contains only charts and sketches. The landscapes and charts are signed by Joris Joostensz Laerle and Symon Jacobsz. There was almost certainly a third volume, containing notes on the illustrations (P. Floore [see Hume 2003]); this may have been used as a reference for others in preparing voyages and as such became lost (Hume 2003). The two volumes may have originally been Laerle’s sketchbooks and were later used for the journal (P. Moree [see Hume 2003]). In cataloging the manuscript collection of the Remonstrantsch-Gereformeerde Gemeente, Rotterdam, in 1868, the Leiden librarian Pieter Anton Tiele rediscovered the two volumes, formerly lost,4 and persuaded the directors to cede them to the Algemeen Rijksarchief (although, according to a letter of April 26, 1872, written by the librarian, it was not until 1872 that they were transferred: Van Hoof 1995).5 Jan Hendrick Hessels, a library assistant of the University of Cambridge, had been shown the Gelderland journal, including the dodo sketches and, in the summer of 1868, he informed Alfred Newton at Cambridge. Newton informed Hermann Schlegel, who was already aware of the work and its drawings and was preparing a short article on it (Schlegel 1873). At this time Newton believed the journals to belong to a library in Utrecht (Newton 1875). Newton “was careful not to interefere” with Schlegel’s intention and so only published a short notice (Newton 1868c; 1875, 349). Schlegel wrote, “I propose to publish a small series of new figures of this bird [the dodo]” (1873, 4). Schlegel, however, died in 1884, before he had completed his article, although his collection of drawings of the dodo (including the tracings) passed to Alfred Newton (Newton and Gadow 1896). In April 1875 Alphonse Milne-Edwards sent some tracings of the sketches, made during a visit to Leiden, to Newton: these Newton exhibited at a meeting of the

16

The Dodo and the Solitaire

ZSL in the same year (Newton 1875; Renshaw 1937); they are now in the UMZC. Later, Newton also exhibited tracings of the dodo sketches made by Schlegel, at the Philosophical Library during the Fourth International Ornithological Congress in London on June 20, 1905 (Newton 1907). These tracings are also to be found at Cambridge (Hachisuka 1953). For some time Anthonie Cornelis Oudemans sought the Gelderland journals. He contacted Eduard Daniel van Oort, director of the Rijksmuseum van Natuurlijke Historie in Leiden, but was informed that the tracings were no longer in the museum. Schlegel’s library had been sold in 1884 by the firm E. J. Brill; in the catalog the sketches were under no. 36*: “Zeichnungen u[nd] Studien ausgestorbener Vögel von dem Masacarenen. En portefeuille.” They were sold to the firm Quaritch in London (Oudemans 1917b, 46). Oudemans (1918b) communicated that a study of the journals had been made, which would hopefully soon be published; unfortunately, this never happened.6 Albert Pitot (1905) published copies of the dodo sketches from the Doyen Papers of the RSASM (fig. 1.12).7 Pitot had obtained the images from tracings of the dodo sketches made by Léopold Estourgies on thin oiled paper from the originals between 1860 and 1870 for Charles Doyen. In the case of the dead dodo the tracing is rather inaccurate, joining the head of one sketch to the body of another (figs. 1.13 and 1.17). From these tracings, Staub (1993, 15) stated that the dodo on fol. 64r “seems to have started moulting with the related loss of its beak tip-cap,” and that the others were probably juveniles. Renshaw (1931) thought that the dodos were male, due to the long hooks to their bills. There is little support for either supposition. In 1991 Boudewijn Büch informed Andrew Kitchener that the original dodo sketches had been rediscovered at The Hague (Kitchener 1993b); these original images of the dodo were published for the first time by Kitchener (1993a). The sketches of the dodo are around halfway through the first volume: ink sketches partly and fully finished, with pencil sketches underlying the ink. The first sketch depicts a dead dodo (foll. 63v, 64r; figs. 1.13, 1.14, and 1.17), unfinished, in pencil with the head augmented in ink (figure 135.31 of Moree 2001). It was drawn from a dead, or stunned, bird laid out in front of the artist. The sketch suggests that the artist had moved the body and drawn it in different positions. Some previous authors have mistakenly described this bird as a “running” dodo (e.g., Tuijn 1969; Staub 1993). Following this are sketches of four dodos (foll. 64v, 65r; figures 135.32 and 135.33 of Moree 2001; figs. 1.15–1.19) in pencil and finished in ink. These appear to be drawn by a less skillful artist than that who sketched the dead dodo. He may have added his ink sketches later and could have been a student of Laerle (Hume 2003). Foll. 64v and 65r also show underlying unfinished pencil sketches, perhaps of the same dead dodo depicted on foll. 63v and 64r (figs. 1.17 and 1.18). On fol. 65r, below the dodo sketches, is this text: “These birds are caught on the island of Mauritius in large quantities because they can[not] fly; they are good food and refreshment, and often have stones in their stomachs, as big as eggs sometimes bigger or smaller and are called griffeendt or Kermis geese.”

Written Accounts of the Dodo

17

1.12.  Historical tracings of the Gelderland journal sketches. Left (large standing dodo): Newton and Gadow (1896, 156). Right (all others): Pitot (1914, 85).

The head of the dead dodo corresponds well with the Oxford dodo head, and the foot with the BM specimen, with the exception of the tarsal scutellation pattern, and the approximate head length to tarsus length ratio agrees with that of the Oxford specimen (fig. 1.19). Also of note are the long hook to the upper bill, the stumpy or absent tail, and the pointed wings. The journal of the Gelderland is probably not the original, but a copy made on the return voyage by Jacobsz (Hume 2003). If correct, then the text beneath the dodos on fol. 65r may not necessarily be by the same hand as the sketches themselves, but added later by Jacobsz. The other Mauritian birds sketched are Aphanapteryx, Alectroenas, and Lophopsittacus, all 18

The Dodo and the Solitaire

1.13.  The dead dodo from the Gelderland journal (135, fol. 64r).

drawn from nature. Unfortunately, none of the dodo sketches are signed, so their origin can only be assumed. Furthermore, there appear to be at least three artists responsible for the dodo sketches. Laerle was probably the artist of many of the sketches in the volume (Den Hengst 2003), although Symon Jacobsz might have been responsible. The sketch of the dead dodo shows a similar drawing technique to that of the bay on Mauritius (see below), suggesting that it is also by Laerle (Hume 2003; Den Hengst 2003). Moree (2001) attributed the bird sketches to Laerle, with additional sketches by Symon Jacobsz and possibly also an unknown artist. From the drawing technique used, Hume (2003) also attributed them to Laerle, with minor contributions from an unknown artist. A comparison of handwriting might indicate the artist of the sketches of the two dodos on fol. 65r; it is probably not that of Harmansz (pers. obs.).

1.14.  The dead dodo from the Gelderland journal (135, foll. 63v, 64r). Written Accounts of the Dodo

19

On foll. 91v and 92r is a drawing of a bay on Mauritius, entitled “Insule do Cirne now named Mauritius de Nassauw,” showing where the ships anchored (fig. 1.20). In the legend to the plan is written,

1.15.  (left) Dodos from the Gelderland journal (135, fol. 64v). 1.16.  (right) Dodos from the Gelderland journal (135, fol. 65r).

D. The area where one goes to catch the Kermis goose or Dronten. (fol. 92r)

Fuller (2002) suggested that dodos were restricted in their geographic location as only one area was marked on the map where dodos occurred, and that was a small island. However, this may have just been where it was easiest to catch them, especially if they were cut off by the tide. The bay itself was once considered to be Mahébourg Bay (Moree 1998), which it is obviously not, and is now thought to represent Tamarin Bay (Fuller 2002;

20

The Dodo and the Solitaire

1.17. Underlying pencil sketches of the Gelderland journal dodos (135, foll. 63v, 64r): two representations of the dead dodo.

1.18. Underlying pencil sketches of the Gelderland journal dodos (135, [a] fol. 64v, [b] fol. 65r). Written Accounts of the Dodo

21

1.19. The Gelderland dodos combined with the outline skeleton.

Den Hengst 2003) or Black River Bay (Hume 2003; Hume and Prys-Jones 2005; Hume 2006). The islet (“D”) has been identified as Île aux Bénitiers, reached from Le Morne at low tide (Hume 2003, 2006). Also notable here is the first use of the name Dronten (see chapter 4). The Gelderland dodo sketches represent the only images of the bird to have been undoubtedly made on Mauritius.

Reyer Cornelisz’s Account

Hans Schuurmans’s fleet, fitted out by the Eerste Verenigde Compagnie, was at Mauritius from June 22 to September 8, 1602 (Moree 1998; late winter [Staub 2000]). The fleet, on the homeward voyage from Bantam, with Schuurmans as admiral, consisted of five ships: the Amsterdam, the Hoorn, the Enkhuizen, the Swarte Leeuw, and the Groene Leeuw. On the way back they stopped at St. Helena from November 16 to December 23, at Fernando 22

The Dodo and the Solitaire

Noronha from January 9 to 22, 1603, and at Falmouth from March 27 to April 14. They finally reached Texel later that month. The outward voyage to the East Indies had been commanded by Harmansz and Jean Granier, with Schuurmans as opperkoopman. Clusius (1605, see chapter 4) erroneously stated that this expedition was led by Van Neck, although the latter had not returned from his second voyage by this time (Strickland 1848). Reyer Cornelisz was a steersman under Schuurmans, on board the Swarte Leeuw. His journal was published in 1646 (Cornelisz 1646). Both Schuurmans and Cornelisz had previously visited Mauritius, under Van Warwijck in 1598. On the morning of June 22, 1602, they saw the island of “Mauritius de Nassau or otherwise named De Cirnes” (fol. 37v; Parmentier et al. 2003, 159). Cornelisz listed the wildlife of the island:

1.20.  Plan of Black River Bay (Gelderland journal, 135, foll. 91v, 92r): “Depiction of the island Mauritius on the W. side when we lay on the [sea] road in the bay, where we have refreshed with our 5 ships from the 30th September to the 20th October Anno 1601.” A = Tamarin River estuary; B = Trois Mamelles; D = Île aux Bénitiers; E = Le Morne (identifications from Hume 2003).

Item of the animals that abide on the land, as tortoises, walchvogels, flamingos, geese, ducks, as velthoenderen [Aphanapteryx], large and small Indian ravens [Lophopsittacus], also doves, there were also red-tailed doves, many men have been sick therefrom, here is also a multitude of gray parrots, and also green with long tails, some of which were caught. (MS. BHSL.HS.2754, Universiteitsbibliotheek Gent, fol. 38v; Parmentier et al. 2003, 164) Written Accounts of the Dodo

23

In the published version this reads, On the land abide tortoises, Wallichvogels, flamingos, geese, ducks, Velt-hoenders, large as well as small Indian ravens, doves, including some with red tails, (from which many men have been sick), gray and green parrots with long tails, some of which were caught. (Cornelisz 1646, 30)

Here we can see how written texts were altered when they were published. In the journal Cornelisz signed two coastal profiles of the island Mauritius. One shows the southeast side of the island, where the ships were anchored. The other shows the northwest side of the island (Parmentier et al. 2003). Also in the journal is what is probably the first map of the whole of Mauritius.

Willem van West-Zanen was captain of the yacht Enkhuizen (also known as the Bruin-Vis) in Schuurmans’s fleet. Van West-Zanen’s journal was not published until 1648. According to the title, it was “abstracted from the diligent notes of Willem van West-Zanen, Captain of the Bruin-Vis, and increased with some necessary adjuncts” by Hendrik Soeteboom. It is not known why the journal was not published until 1648, but perhaps it was unavailable until then. Under the heading “Inwerp van ’t Eylandt de Cerne, nu Mauritius” was noted,

Van West-Zanen’s Account

the birds (of which there [the island] is full) are of all kinds of sorts: doves, parrots, Indian-ravens, sparrows, falcons, thrushes, owls, swallows, and a multitude of the good small birds; white and black herons, geese, ducks, Dod-aarsen, tortoises, cows of the sea: this is a place so serviceable to refresh in the outgoing voyage as the island S. Helena [is] on the return. (Van West-Zanen 1648, fol. 19v)

It is likely that Soeteboom supplemented Van West-Zanen’s report; much of this text was taken from Matelief’s account (1646; see below). Van WestZanen had also visited Mauritius previously with Van Warwijck’s fleet, and some details are added from that account. The name Dod-aarsen is introduced. The plate opposite fol. 19v (fig. 1.21) depicts two ships in a bay, the hunting of penguins, a dugong, and a scene illustrating the killing of “dodos.” This last bears this verse: Victuals they seek here and flesh from the feathered beast The palm trees’ sap, the dronten round of rump While they hold the parrot so that he peeps and shrieks And also causes further others to get caught in the traps8

This copper-engraved plate was commissioned by Soeteboom (Van Wissen 1995) and is evidently not illustrated from firsthand evidence. The dodos are based on penguins (pers. obs.; Strickland 1848) and the image is not reliable. Oudemans (1917b), followed by Hachisuka (1953), however, believed that the figure at the bottom of the plate did, indeed, represent the killing of dodos. Hachisuka (1953) went on to state that the parrots were probably Psittacula krameri echo. Hume (2006) stated that Soeteboom had almost certainly either taken the penguins from De Weert (1646) or lifted

24

The Dodo and the Solitaire

the wrong bird from plate 56 of Jonstonus (1650). However, Jonstonus’s Historia Naturalis was not published at the time. The scene depicting the killing of penguins/dodos is almost certainly adapted from that in De Weert (1646), especially as Soeteboom mentions penguins being salted by Sebald de Waart and Oliver van Noord in the Straits of Magellan. Oudemans (1917b) remarked that the figure was further evidence for dodos living in the woods, but, even if in the very unlikely event that it is not an imagined scene, it clearly it shows them near open ground, possibly even near the shore. Furthermore, although the fleet anchored in Tamarin Bay (the “Molukse Rede”; Den Hengst 2003) the illustration of the bay is drawn after that of Mahébourg Bay from Het tweede Boeck. The text continues, with the marginal text “Continuation of the Hunting and Fishing”: From the beginning of May [note, however, that the fleet was there June– September] to the debarkation from the island the 10[th] of the same, the ship-people [crew] were out all day to hunt birds and more other animals (these could be found on the land) . . . no four-footed animals, apart from cats, that were not ours are there, we have subsequently introduced bucks, goats and pigs there: The herons showed less tameness than other birds, [they] were not, however, easy to get, due to their flying in the thick branches of the trees, they [the crew] seized birds, named by some Dod-aarsen, by some Dronten; [these birds] got the name of Wallich-Vogels in the time that Jacob van Nek was here, because even with long boiling [they] hardly became tender; they remained tough and hard, except the breast and stomach that were very good, also from [the reason] that there was an abundance of turtledoves (these could be obtained) [and] sufficient disgust for the above-mentioned Dod-aarsen, its representation is in the previous plate; they

Written Accounts of the Dodo

1.21.  Van West-Zanen’s plate (1648, opposite fol. 19v), with enlargements of the sections depicting the killing of penguins – presumably supposed to be dodos – and parrots. The parrots are probably being held so that their screams attract others. The penguin-like birds in the background are presumably supposed to represent dodos.

25

1.22.  The killing of penguins in the Straits of Magellan (De Weert 1646).

have large heads, and thereon little caps, are without wings and tails, have only small winglets on the sides, posteriorly four or five small feathers, somewhat more elevated than the others; have beak and feet, and usually have a stone the size of a fist in the stomach. (fol.21r)9

Part of the above description was also evidently taken from Matelief’s account (1646; see below), with some additions. In chapter 15 is this text: Dod-aarsen and tortoises caught to eat, and to salt. . . . The tortoises as well in catching them, as in bringing [them] on board, gave them [the crew] things to play with and gave them entertaining afterwards. The Dod-aarsen with their round rumps (for they were well fed) must turn tail; all that could run was thrown into confusion. The fish that for some years had lived peacefully were chased into the deepest water-holes, and dragged ashore in heaps, for [all] the abundance, more was lost than eaten. (foll. 21r, 21v) The 25. [July] Willem with his sailors brought some Dod-aarsen, which were very fat, to the ship; all the ship-folk had enough to gnaw on: a meal [could feed] up to three or four [men], and there was still some left over. Two tortoises, being the next meal that was brought on board and was eaten, were enough for them all. Ship’s food was very sober, and it was reckoned that on this voyage not much would remain, but more likely supply would be too short, for this reason every day they went ashore to seek food, thriftily to enjoy this on the ship; they prepared smoked fish, and also salted Dod-aarsen, as well as land-tortoises and other birds on board, which provision came afterwards well to barrels. With this they were occupied some days and busy bringing it to the ship; on 4. August Willem’s sailors brought 50. large birds to the Bruyn-Vis, included were 24. or 25. Dod-aarsen so large and heavy that for the meal it was not possible to eat two; all that remained was thrown into the salt, as the Strait [of] Maggellanes-farers Sebald de Waart and Oliver van Noord did for those, who, when they were running out of food, caught the Pinguins abundant on the islands and salted them down, which afterwards suited those people very well. (fol. 22v)

As the extract refers to “Willem,” it suggests that the author was not Van West-Zanen but probably Soeteboom, working from Van West-Zanen’s notes.

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The Dodo and the Solitaire

Fol. 23r, with the marginal text “Hoogeveens good game,” reads, the other day Hogeveen [Adriaen Hoogeveen, upper merchant of the Enkhuizen] (Willem’s merchant) went with four sailors from the tent, to hunt with sticks, nets, muskets, and other equipment; [they] ran up hillock and mountain, walked through wood and valley, and caught in the three days that they were away nearly one-half-hundred birds, and including some 20. Dronten or Dod-aarsen; these were all brought to the ship and stuck in the salt. Like the other people of the fleet, they were busy in this way catching fish and birds. They did not forget to cut wood and bring it to the ship, until on the 16[th] with a new moon not only came a fine breeze, but also constant rain, whereby each remained in his shelter until [the] 19[th], when the weather improved. (fol. 23r)

Here is the suggestion that dodos were hunted in the woods. The salted dodos were probably put into barrels for the return voyage (Staub 1993). Van West-Zanen also noted that the Dutch left pigs and goats on the island, further suggesting that Matelief’s account was used (see below; chapter 6). Staub (1996) thought that Van West-Zanen had probably seen dodos in their breeding period, which made them easier to capture. Again, there is no evidence to suggest this. Admiral Cornelis Matelief the Younger visited Mauritius in 1606 (Moree 1998). His fleet, consisting of the Witte Leeuw, the Zwarte Leeuw, the Mauritius, the Middelburg, the Nassau, the Oranje, the Grote Zon, the Kleine Zon, and the Amsterdam, were on Mauritius from January 1 to January 27 (late summer), on their outward voyage. The fleet anchored in the west harbor of Mauritius (Barnwell 1948). However, on January 6 the Witte Leeuw and the Amsterdam were sent to Atjeh. Matelief, wishing to establish a refreshment station, planted crops and introduced goats and pigs (Moree 1998). On the evening of January 27 the fleet departed from Mauritius (Barnwell 1948). Matelief’s account was published in Begin ende Voortgangh (Commelin 1646). Hume (2006) stated that the account was derived from those of Van Neck and Van West-Zanen. However, only part would seem to have been taken from Van Neck’s account, and that of Van West-Zanen was not published until 1648 (see above; the fact that the latter was not included in the Begin ende Voortgangh suggests that it was unavailable at the time). In the “Description of the Island Mauritius,” it was stated,

Matelief’s Account

It is full of birds, of several types, as doves, parrots, Indian ravens, sparrows, falcons, thrushes, owls, swallows, and a multitude of other small birds, white and black herons, geese, ducks, and similar more wildfowl, those are so tame that one [can] seize [them] by hand. One finds also certain bird[s], that were named by some Dodaersen, by others Dronten, the first that arrived here called them walghvoghels because they could get enough others. These are as large as a swan, with small gray feathers without wings or the tail; have only small wings for the side, and behind four or five small feathers, somewhat more raised than the others; have large thick feet, with large deformed beak and eyes, and usually have a stone as large as a fist in the stomach. They are reasonable to eat, but the best that is on [it] is the stomach. (Matelief 1646, 5)

Matelief also mentioned many rats and monkeys on Mauritius (see chapter 6).

Written Accounts of the Dodo

27

Steven van der Hagen visited Mauritus from November 26 to December 26, 1607, on the homeward voyage. The fleet consisted of the Medemblik, the Zwarte Leeuw, and the Geünieerde Provinciën (the Medemblik had probably arrived ten days earlier than the others). On the morning of November 26 they approached the southeastern harbor. After this they sailed to the “Molukse Rede” at the northwest part of Mauritius and anchored off Baie du Cap (Hamel 1848) or Morne Brabant (Barnwell 1948). On December 1 the longboats of the Zwarte Leeuw and the Geünieerde Provinciën were sent to a bay about a league south of the “Molukse Rede.” The crews went ashore and gathered sufficient food in the woods (Barnwell 1948). Van der Hagen’s account was also published in Begin ende Voortgangh, “all brought together from several journals” (Van der Hagen 1646). Here it was stated that

Van der Hagen’s Account

all the time that they were here, that is about 23 days, [they] ate nothing other than tortoises, Dodaersen, doves, turtledoves, gray parrots, and the like animals that [they] would seize by hand all day in the woods, that were a pleasure to see, especially the gray parrots, . . . also many herons of all sorts of colors, and the wild geese that [they] would not shoot, for not to frighten the other birds and animals that are here everywhere. (Van der Hagen 1646, 88)

Hume (2006) thought that Van der Hagen’s account was apparently based partly on that of Van West-Zanen, although this is unlikely due to its content and the publication date of the latter. In the “Description of the Island Mauritius,” it is mentioned that the flesh of the land tortoises is good and tasty; [it] is salted by some of them, and smoked; that has wonderfully preserved them, as well as the Dodaersen that have been salted. (Van der Hagen 1646, 89)

Van der Hagen also mentioned that “yet the birds begin to decrease much, through the daily coming and arriving of many ships, although inland are enough animals, circumstances there make them difficult to obtain” (1646, 90). On December 22 the crew that was ashore came on board and they sailed from Mauritius on December 26 (Barnwell 1948). Another account of Van der Hagen’s voyage is given in Paul van Soldt’s journal, although this provides no new information (Strickland 1848). Van Soldt was originally on the Zwarte Leeuw, but was transferred to the Medemblik on leaving Mauritius (Barnwell 1948). Hamel (1848) ascribed Van der Hagen’s account to Van Soldt. Sometime shortly after January 27, 1607, Jacques l’Hermitte, visiting Mauritius, wrote a letter (sent via Van der Hagen’s ship) to his father in the United Provinces. He remarked that on the island there was “winged game of various sorts, so tame as to let itself be caught by hand or killed with sticks, and very pleasant to the palate. While we were at anchor the sailors hunted and fished for as much food as they needed” (quoted in Barnwell 1948, 19). On October 14, 1610, Pieter Both, captain of the Wapen van Amstelredam, wrote to the Heren Zeventien (the governing council of the VOC) from the roadstead of Mauritius: “We have also caught . . . other birds in abundance, which I have also preserved. Our salted meat is in such a dreadful

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state” (quoted in Moree 1998, 102). Thus, the dodo and other birds were proving to be a good source of meat.

Pieter Willem Verhoeven’s fleet visited Mauritius in 1611, on the return voyage from Banda. The ships Middelburg and Hollandia stayed there from November 7 to December 24 (midsummer: Staub 2000). An account of Verhoeven’s voyage was published from a short record made by Johann Verken of Leipzig, translated by Gothard Arthus, and published by Hulsius’s widow (Verken 1613). On November 2 the fleet arrived at “San Roderigo” (Rodrigues) and the abundance of birds was noted (Barnwell 1948). On arrival at Mauritius they probably anchored in Mahébourg Bay (Hamel 1848). On December 27 they arrived at Réunion, again noting the abundance of birds (Barnwell 1948). They arrived back in Holland on July 18, 1612. The account, given below, has been attributed to Verhoeven (e.g., Pitot 1905), but Barnwell (1948) disagreed and stated that the author was anonymous, as Verhoeven had died in 1607 (Hamel 1848). On page 51 of his account, under the “Description of the Island Mauritius” dated November 1611, Verken writes,

Johann Verken’s Account

It has also many birds [such] as turtledoves, gray parrots, Rabos forcados, Feld­ hüner [field hens], partridges, and other birds, similar in size to swans, with large heads, have a skin, similar to a monk’s cowl, over the head and no wings, because in place of the same stand approximately 5 or 6 yellow small feathers, similarly they have in place of the tail approximately 4 or 5 feathers standing curled over themselves [uber sich gekeimte], of color they are grayish, one calls them Totersten or Walckvögel, the same occur there in large quantity, such that the Dutch have caught and eaten daily many of the same, because not only the same, but also in general all birds, are so tame, such as the turtledoves, likewise also the other wild pigeons and parrots [were] struck with sticks and caught with the hands, the Totersten or Walckvögel they seized with the hands; however, they [i.e., the hunters] must take good care that they are not bitten mighty hard with the beak, which is very large, thick and hooked, [or] perhaps seized by an arm or a leg. (1613, 51)

The description of the dodo, although similar to that of Het tweede Boeck, introduces some new information: that the wing had five or six yellow feathers and that the dodo was reported to bite hard. However, Stresemann (1958) considered Verken to be an unreliable authority, and Den Hengst (2003) maintained that the description was copied from Het tweede Boeck, albeit with a less than perfect translation. Hume (2006) also stated that the description was copied from those of Van Neck and Van West-Zanen. This is true, at least in part, as the first account of Van Neck’s voyage was used – for example, the section mentioning the large size of the tortoises. It is known that Arthus added information from previous authors to Verken’s account (Van Gelder 1997). In the supplement to part 9 of the India Orientalis De Bry and De Bry (1613) provided a Latin version, translated by Gothard Arthus. Unfortunately, despite the absence of evidence, it is still sometimes stated that it was Verhoeven who was “pecked” by a dodo (e.g., Silverberg 1967; Pinto-Correia 2003). As a final note, Lüttschwager (1959b) thought that Verken’s description referred to Pezophaps, for reasons not stated.

Written Accounts of the Dodo

29

Two Portuguese Jesuit priests, Manuel de Almeida and Luis Mariano, visited Mauritius in 1616, when traveling from Goa to Madagascar (Selvon 2001). They were part of the Second Mission of the Jesuit Fathers to southeast Madagascar in 1616–1617. On March 21, 1616, they sighted Mauritius (Ilha do Cirne) and on May 26 the visitors departed the island. Almeida left a record of the dodo in his report of May 25, 1616 (“On the voyage from Goa to Mauritius and Madagascar and on the events which have occurred in the S.-E. of Madagascar”). He writes,

Manuel de Almeida’s Account

We took in this island an ostrich still very young, though it was already larger than an ordinary turkey. (Grandidier and Grandidier 1904, 117)

The “very young” ostrich almost certainly refers to the dodo, as noted by Grandider and Grandidier (1904). Hume (in Cheke and Hume 2008) thought it might possibly represent a juvenile dodo, although this is not proven. In another version of the report by an anonymous author, sent to the Father Superior of the Society of Jesus at Goa, and entitled “Da segunda Missão que fizerão os Padres da Compagnia de Jesus a Ilha de São Lourenco no anno de 1616,”10 the author writes: We met emas, cranes, parrots, herons, thrushes, galeirões and many other birds of various groups and of pretty colors. (Leitão 1970, 280)

“Ema” is given by Nemnich (1793, 2:col. 998) as “Strutho [sic] casuarius” in Portuguese, and by Leitão as a “long-legged bird similar to the ostrich” (1970, 391). It was the name given by the Portuguese to the cassowary and ostrich.11 This account is very similar to Almeida’s and may simply be a copy, albeit with less detail. It is interesting to note that neither account gives a Portuguese name to the dodo, suggesting that they did not know the bird.

The Altham Dodo

Two letters, written from Mauritius by Captain Emanuell Altham to his brother, Edward Altham (of Marke Hall12 in Essex) on June 18, 1628, mention the sending of a dodo to England. The first letter reads, To ye right woor my most Louinge brother Sr Edward Altham at marke Hall, in Essex./ Deliuer./ Right wor and louinge brother. . . . We were ordered by ye said councell [of India] to goe to an Iland called ye mauritius lying in 20d of South latt where wee arriued ye 28th of may: this Iland hauinge many goates hogs and cowes upon it and very strange fowles called by ye portingals DoDo which for the rareness of the same the like beinge not in ye world but here I have sent you one by mr perce: whoe did arriue with ye ship william at this Iland ye 10th of June of which ship Cpt. browne is commandr. and mr perce mr.: by whome I haue sent a iarr of india ginger. . . . your most louinge brother Emannuell Altham June ye 18th 1628 ffro¯ ye mauritius.

There is a postscript written across the left-hand margin:

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The Dodo and the Solitaire

of mr perce you shall receue a iarr of ginger ^for my sister: some beades ^for my Cosins your daughters : and a bird called a DoDo if it liue.

The second letter reads, To ye right woor my most Louinge brother Sr Edward Altham Dwelling at marke hall in Essex per a frend whome god preserue Leaue this at one william watsons House in ye minories a gunsmith to be sente as aboue saide. Right wor and Louinge brother . . . You shall receue a iarr of India ginger for my sister your wife as alsoe some beades for my Cosins your daughters, and withall a strange fowle: which I had at the Iland mauritius called ye portingalls a DoDo: which for the rareness thereof I hope wilbe welcome to you mauritius ye 18th June 1628: your most louing brother Emanuell Altham.

Thus, a live dodo was sent to England. As both letters are in the same handwriting and bear the same date, they were probably meant to be delivered by different people (Newton 1874). These letters were exhibited by Alfred Newton to the ZSL on May 19, 1874, having been lent to him by John Bramston Wilmot of Tunbridge Wells. Wilmot had read an article by Tegetmeier on Savery-ZSL in The Field and had thought to communicate an extract from one of the letters to that periodical (1874, 43:177), which, however, was published inaccurately. Newton then contacted Wilmot with the request for further information. Wilmot had obtained the letters, a few years prior, as executor to the will of a lady connected with the Altham family (Newton 1874). The Altham letters were burned after Wilmot’s death (Newton and Gadow 1896); luckily, Newton had made copies (Newton and Gadow 1896; Newton 1874).13 Emanuell Altham had sailed from England in spring 1626, bound for the East Indies, aboard the Hopewell, accompanying the embassy to Shah Abbas of Persia; the retinue included the young Thomas Herbert. A fleet of five ships left India for England in May 1628. Four of these – the Star, the Mary, the Hart (see below), and the William – stopped at Mauritius. They sighted “two small islands . . . the southernmost called Mauritius” on May 27, after having seen Rodrigues (“Diego Raiz”) on May 23. The following day they “got into the harbour, and had store of goats, hogs, fowl, and fish” (Colonial Papers 1628, 482).14 The William arrived at Mauritius on June 7 and departed on June 18. As Newton (1874) mentioned, until the two men went their separate ways, the accounts of Thomas Herbert and Altham correspond well. It has been suggested erroneously that Thomas Herbert was on board the William, on its return journey from India in 1628 (e.g., Pitot 1905; Fuller 2002); this was not the case, since Herbert actually arrived on Mauritius a year later, in June 1629, on board the Hart. It is interesting that the dodo is described as rare. It, and other presents, was to be taken on board the William, which was sailing on to England (Fuller 2002); the William arrived back there around October 1628 (Sainsbury 1884). The only other letter in the collection from Edward to his Written Accounts of the Dodo

31

brother is dated January 3, 1628, and as such contains no information on the dodo (Newton 1874). The fate of the Altham dodo is not known; Brom and Prins (1989) suggested that it was probably the same bird that was later to be found in the Tradescant collection. However, this is not provable at present.

In 1626 Dodmore Cotton and Robert Sherley were sent by Charles I as the first English ambassadors to Shah Abbas, the “Pot-Shaugh” (Padishah) of Persia (Newton 1874). Also in this group was Thomas Herbert. In 1629, on the return voyage from Swally Hole, the Hart, with Herbert on board, stopped at Mauritius. They appear to have anchored at Mahébourg Bay: “Here are several good places to anchor in[:] . . . one at the North-West side . . . [and] the other at the South-East directly opposite to the other; where we found 20 degrees 15 minutes” (Herbert 1664, 406; my italics). However, Herbert also provides a figure of the northwest harbor. Herbert’s account of the dodo, “in the curiously affected style of the period” (Newton 1875–1889), was first published in 1634, and we find the dodo described thus:

The Phœnix of Mauritius: Thomas Herbert’s Account

First here, and here only and in Dygarroys, is generated the Dodo, which for shape and rarenesse may Antigonize the Phœnix of Arabia, her body is round and fat, few weigh lesse then fifty pound, are reputed of more for wonder then food, greasie stomackes may seeke after them, but to the delicate, they are offensiue and of no nourishment. Her visage darts forth melancholy, as sensible of natures injurie, in framing so great a body, to be guided with complementall wings, so small and impotent, that they serue only to proue her Bird. The halfe of her head is naked, seeming couered with a fine vaile, her bill is crooked downwards, in midst is the thrill, from which part to the end tis of a light greene, mixt with a pale yellow tincture; her eyes are small, and like to Diamonds round and rowling; her clothing downy feathers, her traine three small plumes short and inproportionable, her legs suting to her body, her pounces sharpe, her appetite strong and greedy, Stones and Iron are digested, which description, will better be conceiued in her representation. (1634, 211)

Later in the text, he compares the “Mannatee” to the dodo: “her finnes so little that they are like the Dodoes wings, more to looke at, then for execution” (212). This account was enlarged for the 1638 edition, with a longer description of the dodo: The Dodo comes first to our description: here, and in Dygarrois (and no where else, that ever I could see or heare of) is generated the Dodo (a Portuguize name it is, and has reference to her simplenes,) a Bird which for shape and rarenesse might be call’d a Phœnix (wer’t in Arabia:) her body is round and extreame fat, her slow pace begets that corpulencie; few of them weigh lesse than fifty pound: better to the eye than stomack: greasie appetites may perhaps commend them, but to the indifferently curious, nourishment, but prove offensive. Let’s take her picture: her visage darts forth melancholy, as sensible of Natures injurie in framing so great and massie a body to be directed by such small and complementall wings, as are unable to hoise her from the ground, serving only to prove her a Bird; which otherwise might be doubted of: her head is variously drest, the one halfe hooded with downy blackish feathers; the other, perfectly naked; of a whitish hue, as if a transparent Lawne had covered it: her bill is very howked and bends downwards, the thrill or breathing place is in the midst of it; from which part to the end, the colour is a light greene mixt with a pale yellow; her eyes be round and small, and bright as Diamonds; her cloathing is of finest 32

The Dodo and the Solitaire

Downe, such as you see in Goslins: her trayne is (like a China beard) of three or foure short feathers; her legs thick, and black, and strong; her tallons or pounces sharp, her stomack fiery hot, so as stones and iron are easily digested in it; in that and shape, not a little resembling the Africk Oestriches: but so much, as for their more certain difference I dare to give thee (with two others) her representation. (Herbert 1638, 347)

The tail is described as “like a China beard,” which is one that consists of a few hairs under the chin. Following this there was a 1664 edition (the text is repeated verbatim in the 1665 edition). Finally, there were subsequent editions in 1675 and 1677. Herbert was on Mauritius from June 13 to July 25 (Foster 1928); on July 25 “so soon as the wind came fair aboard we went, and in three hours sail lost sight of the Mauritius” (Herbert 1664, 407). On July 28 they saw Réunion (“England’s Forrest”), but did not stay (Ross 1935). There has been some confusion as to the year of Herbert’s visit to Mauritius; previous authors have given dates of 1627 (Herbert 1663; Strickland 1848; Gunther 1925; Hachisuka 1953; North-Coombes 1971; Kitchener 1993a; Staub 1996; Kallio 2005) or 1628 (Pitot 1905, 1914; Barnwell 1948; Fuller 2002; Grihault 2005b).15 As noted by Staub (1996), June would have been winter on Mauritius. Herbert was in the same fleet as Emanuell Altham (Newton 1874), although they subsequently separated; Altham visited Mauritius in 1628, and Herbert in 1629. Herbert’s fleet eventually arrived at Plymouth on December 18, 1629, and at Gravesend on January 12, 1630 (Foster 1928; Ross 1935). Earlier in his narrative, Herbert mentions that dodos were also to be found on Rodrigues (“Dygarroys”): Vpon the seuenth of Iune, sayling from these parts we descryed land bearing from vs North North-west, and next morne knew it to be the Ile cald Dygarroys, vnder twentie degrees South latitude. . . . Tis full of Wood, Tortoises, Dodoes and wild-fowle, but no humane inhabitants. (1634, 207)

This is presumably a reference to Pezophaps. As Herbert did not actually visit Rodrigues his information must have come from elsewhere. Thomas Herbert’s name of “dodo” was adopted by many subsequent authors, perhaps due to the popularity of his account and the number of editions it ran to (see chapter 4). However, Herbert was a poor etymologist, often assigning derivations of names to the Welsh language where the Welsh had no previous association. Despite this, the Portuguese name of “dodo” is supported by Altham. Herbert also erroneously stated that the Portuguese had introduced livestock and monkeys to Mauritius (Cheke and Hume 2008). Herbert’s descriptions have been described as having “a tendency towards exaggeration” (Hume 2006, 69) and his account as “somewhat flowery and lofty in style, and not based on his personal observations alone” (Van Wissen 1995, 24). Strickland remarked, “It appears to have been the amusement of Sir T. Herbert’s later days repeatedly to re-write his Travels, changing the words of each successive edition, but without much alteration in the sense” (1848, 19). Blainville (1835) erroneously stated that Herbert had compared the wings of the dodo to those of a bird of China (“l’oiseau Chine”).16 Staub, Written Accounts of the Dodo

33

referring to Pitot (1905), misquoted Herbert in stating that “‘some birds have their head capped with a dark down (probably males), some have the top of their head bald and whitish’ (probably females)” (1996, 104). He even went so far as to suggest that this was due to dodos mating, the males leaving scars on the crowns of the heads of the females as they gained a hold. He later (2000) used a better translation, but still maintained that the naked half of the head was due to amorous efforts. Herbert’s description agrees fairly well with other contemporary descriptions, although he states that the legs are black, whereas other evidence suggests that only the proximal parts were this color. The description of the tail, “like a China beard,” which Hachisuka (1953) takes to be a description of the circumanal feathers and undertail covert, is also of note (see chapter 6). The “fiery” stomach and the digestion of stones and iron are reminiscent of contemporary descriptions of the ostrich and cassowary and their ingestion of stones (see chapter 6). His account also suggests that the dodo was already becoming rare (cf. Ziswiler 1996). In contrast, Hamel (1848) noted that Herbert does not explicitly state that he saw a dodo on Mauritius, but that it is known that he visited Tradescant’s museum and might even have seen L’Estrange’s dodo (see below; chapter 5). In a letter, examined by Hamel (1848), from Herbert to Ashmole in 1680, Herbert remarks that his book is “the fruit of youth and haste.” The copperplate figures (“lively Brass-cuts; all by the Author” [1664, title page]) in Herbert’s account were engraved by William Marshall. The dodo is figured alongside “A Hen” (probably Aphanapteryx bonasia) and “A Cacato” (probably Lophopsittacus; figs. 1.23 and 1.24) The drawings for the work were Herbert’s own, although Marshall appears to have altered at least some of them, as in the case of the “shark-fish,” in which the engraver had been “mistaken in the posture” (quoted in Foster 1928, x). Staub (1996) considered the dodo to be fat as it represented a bird during winter (see chapter 6). Despite his efforts, Herbert’s dodo figure has been described as a “charming picture [that] is clearly honest in intent but Herbert’s rudimentary drawing skills are so woefully inadequate that the image is no more than a curiosity” (Fuller 2002, 110), although “it does perhaps give some indication of the strange appearance of the tail” (2002, 62). Blainville (1835) remarked on the strange form of the beak in Herbert’s picture, with both upper and lower mandible curved downwards, similar to the condition in the ibis. Kitchener described the figure as seeming to “be an uncomfortable amalgam of a fat and a thin bird. This suggests that it was drawn sometime after Herbert’s visit to Mauritius and is based partly on memory and also on other dodo illustrations and paintings (it is most similar to a fattened version of Van Neck’s original dodo drawing . . .), or possibly live birds in Europe or Mauritius” (1993a, 280). This statement allows for almost all alternatives. Despite this, Herbert’s drawing was probably drawn from life on Mauritius,17 as he specifically states that he drew the figures in his “Table-book” (a pocket notebook or memorandum book [Simpson and Weiner 1989]). Whether Herbert brought back a dodo is not known. He is known to have donated a fruit bat to the Anatomy School in Oxford (see chapter 5) and to have visited Tradescant’s collection (see chapter 5), so it remains a possibility that at least one of the English dodo specimens originated with him. 34

The Dodo and the Solitaire

1.23.  Thomas Herbert’s figure (Herbert 1638, 346).

Herbert’s account was later translated into Dutch by Lambert van den Bosch (1658), and into French by Abraham van Wicquefort (1663). Unfortunately, neither contains a picture of the dodo. Van den Bosch erroneously stated that the rump “has light green feathers underneath” (1658, 182).18 Jonstonus mentioned Herbert’s account in his “Historiæ Naturalis de Avibus”: “Herbert called the dodo after the Portuguese, & added that one half of the head is covered with rust-colored feathers; the other is bare” (1650, 177). Richard Head plagiarized Herbert’s account in his novel, The English Rogue, in which the hero of the story “sails to Do-Cerne, so called by the Portugals” (1665, 103). Samuel Clarke also used the account in the appendix to his Geographical Description of All the Countries in the Known World (1671). Thomas Hyde, in his Historia Religionis Veterum Persarum (1700), also alluded to Herbert’s description. In his work he compared the dodo with the prophet Zoroaster’s mother, who was named Dogdu, Dodo, or Dodu (Voltaire 1824): And as they agree about the Father, so all agree that the name of his Mother was . . . Dôghdu, which (gh softens when in English voice as in high, mighty, &c.) among them is commonly spoken as Dôdu; for the sound Gain in the middle of words is generally in the habit of fading. And this name indicates that she would be as if a parallel for fecundity to the Gallinæ Indicæ of the same name, of which an image in the writings of Herbert in his Itinerary records under the name Dodo, of which, in addition, stuffed relics are preserved in the Anatomy Theater of Oxford. The Dodo is, moreover, a large bird [with] small & poor wings that serve it to run, but they do not serve it to fly; whence it cannot be called a flying creature. Body is round & fat, weighing 50 pounds. Bad food for the stomach, provoking nausea. The face of this bird bears melancholy because of it. Half of the head [sinciput] is naked, the back of the head [occiput] is covered with down, as the whole body. Beak from the nostrils to the point is lightly turned green, mixed together with a yellowish color. The remaining things can be discerned from the illustration. It lays many eggs, & from which it is a suitable emblem of fruitfulness. It originates chiefly in the islands Madagascar & Bygarroys. (Hyde 1700, 312) Written Accounts of the Dodo

1.24. Herbert’s dodo combined with the outline skeleton. 35

The accompanying plate (tab. vii) shows a copy of Herbert’s figure of the dodo: “Dodo avis.” The figure was delineated and engraved by Michael Burghers (1653–1727). A second edition, dated 1760, reused Burghers’s copper-engraved plates, which had been purchased from the family by Oxford University. Hyde’s account possibly mentions a dodo specimen in the Anatomy School, Oxford, although some have related it to the Ashmolean specimen (e.g., Duncan 1828; Strickland 1848; see chapter 5). It is not known how much of Hyde’s description was based on this specimen and how much on secondary sources such as Herbert’s. Hyde mentioned that the dodo laid many eggs (see chapters 4 and 6), which is probably an error based on a description of tortoises (Oudemans 1917b). In a similar vein, Millin (1802) thought a hen-like bird depicted on an ancient Persepolitan stone from Tak-Khesra, depicting Chaldaean symbols, was quite probably Buffon’s “Oiseau de Nazareth” (“Didus Nazarenus”). He considered the bird to be gallinaceous (of the Gallinæ) and to represent the bird “called by the Persians Dogdu or Dodo.” Millin went further, mistakenly stating that the name of the mother of Zoroaster was given to this bird, “because it lays many eggs, and that it is the emblem of fecundity” (1802, 62). As a final note, Schlegel (1854a) created a new species of dodo, Didus Herbertii, based on Herbert’s illustration of the red rail (Aphanapteryx; see chapter 4). Peter Mundy’s Account

The Surat Dodos

Peter Mundy, an English traveler who worked for the East India Company for a time, wrote about the dodo on several occasions. On his first voyage (1628–1634) he saw two dodos at the factory premises of the East India Company at Surat, India, sometime between September 1628 and the end of 1634.19 According to Das (1973), neither of these was the same as that pictured by the miniaturist Mansu¯r (see chapter 3) from the menagerie of Sha¯h Jaha¯ngı¯r. On the contrary, Ziswiler (1996) stated that these were indeed birds kept at the residence of Jaha¯ngı¯r in Surat. As Mansu¯r’s bird was probably in Jaha¯ngı¯r’s menagerie sometime between 1624 and 1627 and Mundy saw his birds at the factory at Surat in 1628 at the earliest, they were most probably different individuals. In his “Journal of a Voyage from Surat to England in the Shipp ‘Royal Mary,’ capt. James Slade,” Mundy, who was in the employ of the East India Company, noted that they passed near Mauritius on March 22, 1633/34, but did not put in and eventually headed for the Cape of Good Hope (Temple 1914; Keast 1984). In Relation 19, under the heading “Other Observations, vizt.” for March 1633/34,20 Mundy describes the products of Mauritius thus: Great store of goates, hoggs and some Bullocks. Dodoes, a strange fowle, twice as bigg as a Goose, that can neither flye nor swymm, beinge Cloven footed; a wonder how it should come thither, there being none such in any part of the world yett to be found. I saw two of them in Suratt howse that were brought from thence. Also a Fowle called Mauritius henns, of whome haveing once taken one, all the rest att the Cry of it will soe come about you that you may take them alive with your hands. (quoted in Temple 1914, 318)21

“Suratt howse” probably refers to the East India Company factory at Surat, which suggests that the dodos had been brought to India by English 36

The Dodo and the Solitaire

merchants. Their presence at Surat has been used as evidence that they were part of Jaha¯ngı¯r’s collection (e.g., Hume 2006). However, Jaha¯ngı¯r died in 1627, and so if intended for the emperor they would have been for Sha¯h Jaha¯n. Gifts were given to the emperor by English factors to aid trade agreements, and Mansu¯r’s dodo was probably one such gift. After returning to England for a short period Mundy traveled to India aboard the Royall Mary again, on his second voyage (1635–1638), with William Courten’s fleet. Mundy sailed from Achin on March 3, 1638, on board the Sun, homeward bound.22 They sighted the island of “Diego Rodriguez” (Rodrigues) on April 11, and Mauritius on April 13. On April 14 they came aboutt the North side of the said Iland. . . . Untill the 18th off Aprill was spentt in stopping a great leake, in watring our shippe and reffreshing our Men, which was here to bee had in some reasonoble Manner with a little paynestaking to huntt For it; wee gotte pretty store of severall sorts according to the shortness off our stay. (Relation 38; quoted in Temple 1919, 343, 348)

On April 15 they anchored off “Water Bay” (the bay of the Grand Rivière Nord-Ouest) on the north side of Mauritius and spent three days repairing the ship and gathering provisions. Later, between the passages on “Battes” and “a Mauritius hen” (Aphanapteryx bonasia), Mundy describes the Dodo: a Fowle For Fowle, these Following Among the reste. The Dodo. Allthough we now Mett with none, yett Divers tymes they are Found here, having seene 2 att Suratt broughtt From hence, and as I remember they are as bigge bodied as great Turkeyes, covered with Downe, having little hanguing wings like shortt sleeves, alltogether unuseffull to Fly withall, or any way with them to helpe themselves. Neither Can they swymme butt as other land Fowle Doe [when] on Necessity Forced into the water, beeing Cloven Footed as they are. (quoted in Temple 1919, 352)

The “Mauritius hen” was described as “allsoe Cloven Footed, soe that the[y] Can Neyther Fly nor swymme More then the Former [the dodo]. Off these 2 sorts off Fowle aforementioned, For oughtt wee yett know, Not any to bee Found out off this Iland, which lyeth aboutt 100 leagues From St Lawrence [Madagascar]” (quoted in Temple 1919, 353). Mundy wondered how such creatures as the dodo and Aphanapteryx, came to be on Mauritius: A Question. A question may here bee Demaunded how they should bee here and Not elcewhere, beeing soe Farre From other land and can Neither Fly nor swymme; whither by Mixture off kindes producing straunge and Monstrous Formes, or the Nature off the Climate, ayre and earth in alltring the First shapes in long tyme, or how. (quoted in Temple 1919, 353)

Thus, here were perhaps some of the first speculations as to the evolution of such geographically isolated species. Mundy’s ship left Mauritius at around noon on April 18 and he returned home in December of that year. The fact that Mundy did not report seeing dodos on Mauritius led Fuller (2002) to suggest that they were becoming rare, or at least localized. In addition to the dodo and Aphanapteryx, Mundy described some of the other native fauna of Mauritius: tortoises (Cylindraspis spp.), “Battes” (Pteropus spp.), ducks (possibly Anas theodori), geese (possibly Alopochen mauritianus), “Russett Parrats” (Mascarinus mascarinus or a related species), Written Accounts of the Dodo

37

“turtle Doves” (probably Nesoenas mayeri), “a blacke bird with a yellow bill” (probably Ixocincla olivacea), and “a little bird like a lynnett” (probably Nesacanthus rubra [Temple 1919]). He also described the island and its products, both native and imported. Later, returning from his third voyage to India (1655–1656), he described the flightless Ascension Island rail (Atlantisia elpenor), now also extinct, and, in the entry for June 7, 1656, added, I have heretofore asked the question concerning Mauritius henns and dodos, thatt seeing those could neither fly nor swymme, beeing cloven footed and withoutt wings on an iland far from any other land, and none to bee seence [sic] elce where, how they shold come thither? . . . the question is, how they shold bee generated, whither created there from the beginning, or thatt the earth produceth them of its owne accord, as mice, serpents, flies, wormes, etts. insects, or whither the nature of the earth and climate have alltred the spape [= shape] and nature of some other foule into this, I leave it to the learned to dispute of. In folio 162 read of the Mauritius hen, etts. (quoted in Temple and Anstey 1936, 5:83)

After retiring to London, Mundy again mentions the dodo when describing the cassowary he saw at St. James’s Park in London: [the cassowary], a strange fowle somewhat lesser than an estridge, the body about four foote high, very big [?in] the head and like a turkey. . . . It hath some appearance of wings or pinions, but of no use, as the dodo etts. (June–September 1663; quoted in Temple and Anstey 1936, 158)

Mundy has other dodological links: he visited both Tradescant’s and Hubert’s collections in 1634 and 1639, respectively (see chapter 5), although he makes no mention of any dodo specimens. He also visited the Anatomy School, Oxford, in 1639, where he saw “dodoes” (see chapter 5). Von Mandelslo’s Account In a French translation of the travels of Johann Albrecht von Mandelslo (1659), who, incidentally, also visited Surat, there is a description of the dodo in the section on Mauritius: One sees there also a quantity of herons, as also another type of birds of the size of the swan, which do not have wings or tail, & have such hard flesh that there is no heat that can cook it. (Olearius 1659, taken from the second edition of 1666, 523)

On March 26, 1639, it was decided that the Mary, on which Von Mandelslo was traveling, should stop at Mauritius. However, although Rodrigues was sighted, the Mary did not visit Mauritius. In the original 1651 edition of Von Mandelslo’s travels the dodo is not mentioned, and it seems that the information on the dodo was added by the translator, Van Wicquefort (see above), based on Van Warwijck’s account. The 1651 edition merely mentions, “The animals thereon are so dull that none fly up before [the] shooting [of a gun], but let [one] seize and catch [them] by hand.”23 The “Burgemeesters” (Anonymous 1631)

An anonymous Dutch sailor wrote a travel journal mentioning a severe famine in Surat and a visit to Mauritius. The manuscript, “Missive van’t sterven van 74 honderdusent menschen in Suratta ao 1631” was rediscovered in the 38

The Dodo and the Solitaire

city archives at The Hague by the Dutch archivist Abraham Jacobus Servaas van Rooijen. The author had sailed from Surat to Mauritius on March 2 and arrived at the island on April 29. He gave titles to the various animals of Mauritius: the dodos (“Burgemeesters,” or mayors), the red rails (“soldaten,” or soldiers), the hogs (“borgers,” or citizens), the goats (“snijders,” or tailors), the cattle (unknown inhabitants), and the tortoises (“boeren,” or farmers). The mayors are very superb or proud, they showed themselves to us with an abrupt stern face and wide open mouth, very jaunty and audacious of gait, would not scarcely place a foot before us, their military weapon was their mouth, there too they could bite fierce, their food was raw fruit, [they] were also not, however, well adorned, but were very rich and fat of means, so they [the crew] have brought many of them on board, to the contentment of us all. (Servaas van Rooijen 1887, 6) Declaration of the inhabitants of the island Mauritius. Mayors . . . or the dottaerssen. (Servaas van Rooijen 1887, 7)

Here we read of the behavior of the dodo towards humans, and of their diet, which included fruit. Van Rooijen gave no details of the manuscript and, as such, it has been lost again. Mlíkovský (2004) thought that although the description was written in 1631, it was based on observations made before that date.

The only description of a live dodo in Europe is provided by Hamon L’Estrange. L’Estrange wrote a lengthy commentary on Thomas Browne’s Pseudodoxia Epidemica (Enquiries into vulgar errors), as mentioned in a letter to the author dated January 16, 1653 (MS Rawlinson 391):

A “strange fowle”: L’Estrange’s Dodo

I presume to send you a list of such things as I have used. I pray you bee pleased to fixe your sence and opinion generally to them, and after to return the paper. . . . About 3 yeares since, I hapned to read your book of Enquiries into Common Errours, and in that masse of various matter, I met with many things in the middle and lower formes of the schoole of knowledge, formerly obviated to my curiosity and observation, which set my fancy and pen on worke, as you may reed in this my rude and imperfect manuscript, which I send you to peruse. . . . Hamon L’Estrange. (quoted in Wilkin 1835–1836, 1:369–370)

The commentary itself is contained in MS Sloane 1839, in the British Library, “a very neatly-written MS” (Wilkin 1835–1836, 2:173).24 L’Estrange writes that he has “lately read over Dr Brownes accurate disquisitions and enquiryes about vulgar errours corruptions” (fol. 50), and gives his passage on the dodo in his commentary on the digesting of iron by the ostrich.25 Under the section “Concerning the Estridge” (fol. 53v), he mentions having seen an ostrich eat walnut-sized pellets of chewed paper and then proceeds to give the following account of the dodo, which was first published in Wilkin’s edition (1835–1836) of Thomas Browne’s works: About 1638 as I walked London streets I [hiatus in MS] the picture of a strange fowle hong out upon a cloth [hiatus in MS26] vas, and my selfe wth one or two more then in company went into see it, It was kept in a chamber, and was a great fowle somwhat bigger than the largest Turky Cock, and so legged and footed but stouter and thicker, and of a more erect shape, couloured before like the breast of a yong Cock fesan, and on the back of dunn or deare coulour, The keeper called Written Accounts of the Dodo

39

it a Dodo and in the ende of a chymney in the chamber there lay an heap of larg peble stones, whereof he gave it many in or sight some as bigg as nutmegs, and the keeper told us shee eate them Conducing to digestion) & though I remember not how farr the keeper was questioned therein yet I am confident that afterwards shee cast them all agayne. (fol. 54r)

L’Estrange then mentions other examples of birds swallowing stones and other objects for the same purpose, and concludes that digestion is probably the reason for the swallowing of iron by the ostrich. The dodo is described as being of “dunn or deare coulour.” “Dunn” is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as “of a dull or dingy brown colour; now esp. dull greyish brown, like the hair of the ass and mouse” (Simpson and Weiner 1989, 1120),27 whereas “deare” (deer) color and the color of the “breast of a yong Cock fesan [pheasant]” suggests a more reddish-brown hue. The color of the breast of the male pheasant (Phasianus colchicus colchicus) is “deep burnished copper” (Witherby et al. 1944, 237). Strickland speculated that “there may possibly linger among our records some black-letter hand-bill or illiterate tract, which may allude to what must have been, in that marvel-loving though unscientific age, a very attractive exhibition. To the bibliophile who shall discover such a document, I promise a splendidly-bound copy of the dodo book [Strickland and Melville 1848]” (1848, 22). The origin of L’Estrange’s bird is not known; several English ships visited Mauritius around that time, including the Discovery and the Exchange in 1634, and the Blessing, the Discovery, the Jonas, and the Palsgrave in 1636 (Barnwell 1951). It is possible that L’Estrange’s dodo may have been that which passed into the collection of the Tradescants, as suggested by, among others, Hamel (1846),28 Strickland (1848), Rothschild (1907), Killermann (1915), Renshaw (1931), Stresemann (1958), Fuller (2002), Den Hengst (2003), and Hume (2006; for further discussion see chapter 5). Strickland said of Hans II Savery’s painting in the OUM that “it is difficult to assign a motive to the artist for thus magnifying an object already sufficiently uncouth in appearance. Were it not for the discrepancy of dates [however, see chapter 3], I should have conjectured that this was the identical ‘picture of a strange fowle hong out upon a cloth,’ which attracted the notice of Sir Hamon Lestrange and his friends as they ‘walked London streets’ in 1638; the delineations used by showmen being in general more remarkable for attractiveness than veracity” (1848, 31). Rothschild (1907) thought that L’Estrange’s dodo was probably the subject for Savery-BM; this unlikely suggestion, however, cannot be proven. Hamel (1846) suggested that L’Estrange’s dodo was brought from Holland and there it might have been the model for Roelandt Savery’s images; if correct, it must have lived in captivity for at least twelve years – 1626 to 1638. Again, this is a very unlikely conjecture and cannot be supported. Furthermore, Savery’s model was almost certainly a stuffed specimen. The bird described by L’Estrange is usually referred to the dodo (Raphus cucullatus; e.g., Strickland 1848, Rothschild 1907, Oudemans 1917b]). Oudemans (1917b) and Renshaw (1931) went further by suggesting that it was a female, which cannot be proven. In constrast, W. Pinkerton hypothesized that the dodo seen by L’Estrange was in fact a solitaire (Pezophaps solitaria). He noted, “with respect to its name Sir Hamon merely states that ‘the 40

The Dodo and the Solitaire

keeper called it a Dodo’: I need not waste a word on the vagueness of such nomenclature; we all know the value of a showman’s nuncupation. Besides, it must be recollected that the apterous birds of Bourbon and Rodriguez were at that period also termed Dodos” (1852, 173). His evidence for this identification rests on the fact that L’Estrange compared the bird to a turkey, rather than a swan as most other authors of the time did; its erect stature; its coloration (similar to that of “a yong Cock fesan”); and that if the bird were a dodo L’Estrange would have surely commented on the form of its remarkable head. He compared L’Estrange’s description with that of Leguat (see chapter 2) and found that the two agreed closely. Pinkerton agreed with previous authors – such as Strickland, Hamel, and Broderip – in assigning the bird to the dodo-like birds (“Dididæ”), but eliminated any identification with that of either the dodo or the “brevipennate birds of Bourbon” described by Bontekoe and Dubois. Strickland subsequently responded to Pinkerton’s identification: I had indeed long been aware of the discrepancies between Sir Hamon’s description and the features of the true Dodo, as handed down to us by other authorities, but I merely attributed them to the extreme vagueness which attaches to all natural history descriptions of that period. I admit, however, that it is quite as likely that the showman misnamed the bird as that Sir Hamon misdescribed it; and the affinities which it seems to present to the Solitaire of Leguat may perhaps justify us in regarding them as identical. (1852, 310)

In assessing this hypothesis it should be noted that Herbert mentioned that the dodo also lived on “Dygarroys” (Herbert 1634; see above) and that L’Estrange’s description does accord with that of Pezophaps. However, L’Estrange wrote his account sometime after the event, and, other than Herbert’s account, there is none mentioning the solitaire prior to 1638. Hachisuka (1953) considered L’Estrange’s account to represent the Réunion solitaire (Ornithaptera solitaria). His reasons for this were that L’Estrange’s bird was described as being erect with long legs, and as such more akin to the solitaire (Pezophaps) than to the dodo. He also considered that the color was also not like that of a dodo. Assuming that it was impossible that a bird could have been brought from Rodrigues prior to François Leguat’s visit in 1691, Hachisuka concluded that instead it must represent a specimen from Réunion.29 He further added that the description indicated it was a male of this species. However, because the existence of a species of dodo (or solitaire) on Réunion has been since discounted, this conjecture can be dismissed. The Dutch 22-gun ship, the St. Alexis, under Captain Alonse Gouverte (Alonso Goubert) of Dieppe, sailed to the Red Sea via Mauritius (“Prince Maurice’s Island” or “St. Appolonia”) to set up a colony there. On board was François Cauche, who was then 22 years old.30 According to Cauche’s text, they visited Rodrigues (“Diego Ruz”) on June 25, 1638, where they stayed out at sea whilst a boat was sent ashore to set up the King’s Arms. Then they visited Réunion (“Mascarenhas”) where they stayed for 24 hours before visiting Mauritius. They sailed to the southeast harbor where they found that the Dutch, who were constructing a fort, had made huts. The Dutch allowed them to shoot and fish, but they left the Written Accounts of the Dodo

François Cauche’s Account

41

following day for the northwest harbor, where they found a Dutch hamlet and an English ship (the William), which had come from Bantam. Cauche stated that they were at Mauritius for a fortnight in early July.31 Cauche eventually returned to France in 1644 (Hamel 1848). However, it seems that if Cauche did indeed visit Mauritius, it was in 1640, and not 1638 as he stated (Lougnon 1970; Cheke and Hume 2008). A 14-gun French ship, captained by Salomon Gouverte, visited Mauritius in 1638 (early July to December) and 1640 (eleven days in early July [Cheke and Hume 2008]). On the second voyage it was accompanied by a 22-gun ship, probably the Saint-Alexis, captained by Alonse Gouverte. As the smaller ship may have been illegally collecting ebony, Cauche might have wanted to obscure the evidence concerning its visit. Other facts also indicate a date of 1640 rather than 1638, such as the length of stay and the visit of the William (see Cheke and Hume 2008 for further details). Cheke and Hume (2008) thought that the Saint-Alexis probably never actually visited Mauritius and that Cauche had obtained information on the wildlife from those mariners who had visited Mauritius on the 14-gun ship in 1638. Cauche also claimed that he visited Rodrigues and Réunion, but did not describe these. In the “Relation of the Voyage of François Cauche,” edited by Claude Morisot, is the following description: I have seen on the isle Mauritius birds larger than a swan, without feathers about the body, which is covered with a black down; it has a very round posterior, the rump ornamented with frizzled feathers, as many in number as each bird has years; instead of wings they have similar feathers as these last, black & bent; they are without tongues, the large beak curving itself a little underneath; [standing] high upon [their] legs, which are scaled, have only three spurs on each foot. It has a cry like the gosling, it is not at all so tasty to eat as the fouches [Phoenicopterus sp.] & feiques [Sarkidiornis melanotos], from which we came to speak. They make only one egg, white, large as a penny loaf [un pain d’un sol], against which they put a white stone of the size of a hen’s egg. They lay on grass which they pile up, & make their nests in the forests; if the small one is killed, one finds a gray stone in his gizzard, we called them birds of * Nazaret. The fat is excellent to soften the muscles & nerves. (Cauche 1651, 130–131)

In the margin are added the following: The figure of this bird is in the 2. navigation of the Dutch to the East Indies, in the 29. day of the year 1598. They name it from nausea. (130–131) * Perhaps this name is given to them on account of [their] being found in the isle of Nazare, which is higher than that of Mauritius, [being] under the 17[th] degree beyond the equator of the side of the South [17°S]. (131)

The description is not in Cauche’s travel description, but in a separate section on the fauna of the region, under the heading “The Birds.” The title of Cauche’s account has the addendum “Collected by master Morisot, with annotations in the margin.” The dedication, by Augustin Courbe, also states that Morisot “took the trouble to digest himself [the parts of this volume], & to enrich it by his scholarly observations.” Thus, the supposition as to the origin of the name “oiseau de Nazaret” is the editor Morisot’s (see chapter 4). Earlier in the text, Morisot also referred to the second French edition of Van Neck’s account of Mauritius (Anon. 1609 [Cauche 1651, 8]). It is evident

42

The Dodo and the Solitaire

that Cauche confused the cassowary, another large flightless and exotic bird, with the dodo. The cassowary is a large black bird with only three toes on each foot and it was once said, erroneously, to lack a tongue. It seems that the source for the author’s information may have been Lodewijcksz, relating to the cassowary: Portrait of rare bird of the isle of Java that has been brought [here]; of the size of an ostrich, having a long neck, without tongue, wings quite small or none, & no tail, but large & long feet, by which it makes all its force. All that it can swallow whole it returns it in the same form [in its] entirety by the bottom, without any deterioration or consumption, [such things] are apples, eggs, tin, or other things. (1609, fol. 36v)

The accompanying plate depicts two cassowaries, from which Cauche (or Morisot) could have taken the information concerning the legs and number of “spurs” (clawed toes) on the feet. Hume (2006) went so far as to say that Cauche had seen a live cassowary in Indonesia – for which, however, there is no evidence. Either Cauche himself confused the dodo with the cassowary or his editor did, or perhaps his editor merely added details of the cassowary to pad out the description. Cauche also mentions Aphanapteryx, including details similar to that of Mundy’s account – that they could be attracted with red material. As Cauche’s ship had visited Rodrigues, both L. Doyen (see Pitot 1914) and Hume (2006) speculated that the description of the dodo might even be referable to Pezophaps instead. Either way, the confusion with the cassowary still stands. Morisot provided a chart depicting the “I. de Nazaret” in the front of Cauche’s account (fig. 1.25), and it has been suggested that he confused the name with the appellation oiseaux de nausée (see also chapter 4). Cauche’s description may have been cobbled together using cassowary descriptions and secondhand accounts of the dodo (either verbal or published, such as Anon. 1609); it is unlikely that Cauche would have actually seen a dodo’s nest and eggs and yet got other features of the bird, such as the number of toes, wrong. Flacourt (1661) thought Cauche’s account “untrustworthy” and maintained that Cauche never moved from Madagascar. Cheke (2004a, 2006) also thought that Cauche probably never visited Mauritius. Mlíkovský (2004) considered the work attributed to Cauche (1651) to be of doubtful authorship and to contain much “dubious data.” Cheke and Hume remarked: “Overall his story in relation to the Mascarenes seems fairly unreliable, though it may contain genuine material gained second-hand from the mariners on the smaller ship that spent so long ashore in Mauritius in 1638” (2008, 29). If he did visit Mauritius, Cauche’s account may have been written, at least in part, from memory. How much was added by Morisot is not known. Cauche’s information on the breeding habits of the dodo is similar to that of Pezophaps, and as such may be accurate (see chapter 6), although North-Coombes (1979) stated that there are no white stones to be found in the forests of Mauritius. With the publication of Buffon’s work (1770), the Oiseau de Nazare became established as a distinct species and the German naturalist Johann Friedrich Gmelin (1788) coined the Linnaean binomial Didus nazarenus

Written Accounts of the Dodo

43

1.25.  Map of Madagascar and the Mascarenes, showing “I. de Nazaret” (arrowed [Cauche 1651]).

for it. Oudemans (1917b) remarked that the differences between Cauche’s description and others of the Mauritian dodo probably suggested a distinct species on the island of Nazaret (which Oudemans equated with the island of Tromelin). Rothschild (see Anon. 1920) considered Cauche’s description to relate to the supposed Réunion dodo (“Didus borbonica”). An English translation of Cauche’s account was published in 1710. In it, “Il a vn cry comme l’oison” has been translated as “They make a Noise like a Goose” (in later works this became “like that of a Hawk” [Anon. 1791, 55] – the editor has also added a marginal note, that the “Birds of Nazareth seem to be Ostriches” [54]).

A dodo is mentioned in a letter, in the VOC archives, sent from the governorgeneral of Batavia, Cornelis van der Lijn, and the high council of Batavia to the company’s superintendent (opperhoofd) in Japan, Willem Verstegen at Dejima. The letter, dated July 25, 1647, probably accompanied the annual

The Batavia Dodo

44

The Dodo and the Solitaire

gifts sent to the shogun (Den Hengst 2003), which were sent to help encourage favorable trade. An extract, which mentions a live dodo, reads: Since exotic live animals are currently unforeseen, [we] can therefore send nothing with our affection apart from such as a white hart, of which the spouse, the male, has recently died, together with a doddaers bird of the island Mauritius. (Millies 1868, 19)

At the time the Dutch were restricted to Dejima in Nagasaki Harbor, so this was the dodo’s probable destination.32 However, Hachisuka (1953) was unable to obtain any further information regarding the bird’s importation and nothing else is known of this particular dodo. There was much trade between Mauritius and Java from 1638 onward, lessening after 1652. As one author noted, in a similar circumstance, the “old custom of sending live animals from the Dutch settlements to Japan possibly may serve to explain the occurrence in a Japanese Encyclopædia of the representation of a Struthious bird” (Newton 1868b, 478).

In December 1661, 7 ships under Admiral Arnout de Vlaming sailed from Batavia for Holland. On February 12, 1662, 4 of these sank 120 miles (193.1 km) southeast of Mauritius, with 108 men surviving from 1 ship, the Aernhem (Grihault 2005a). These survivors were in a small, overcrowded boat; 86 of them made it to Mauritius. They landed at around 10:00 pm on February 20 in the southeast harbor of the island and found the abandoned Fort Hendrik (Moree 1998). One of the survivors, Volkert Evertsz, was eventually rescued by the crew of the English ship Truroe in May 1662, and arrived back in 1668 (Moree 1998). He related his account to Adam Olearius (see chapter 5), who published it, along with accounts of some of the other survivors, in 1669. The survivors hunted goats, birds, tortoises and pigs and foraged for food (Moree 1998). Evertsz and four others searched for game and a site to make camp. They waded out to an islet at low tide and built a hut there. On the islet, Evertsz stated,

Castaways’ Tales: The Aernhem Disaster

We also found here all many wild bucks and all sorts of birds, which [were] not shy, because they [are] perhaps not accustomed to see humans that pursue them: they stood and regarded us, also let us come close. Among other birds were also Dodderse as they are called in the Indies, are larger than the geese, could not fly, (because they [had] in place of the wings only small Flittige) however [they] run fast: we chased them to one of the others [of the survivors], [so] that we could seize them by hand, and if we kept one firm by the leg and it made a scream others came running to it, to help the captive, and even became captured also. Also we got some Berghüner [mountain hens = Aphanapteryx?]. (Olearius 1696, 152)

The German original, the 1696 edition of which is given above, was subsequently translated into Dutch by Jan Hendrik Glazemaker. From Evertsz’s account it seems that dodos on the main island were rare, but he did find them on the small islet. Some authors have attempted to identify this islet, suggesting: Île de l’Est (Staub 1993), Île aux Cerfs (Staub 1993, 1996), Îlot Mangénie (Staub 1996), Île d’Ambre (Staub 1996; Fuller 2002; Cheke 2004a, 2006; Cheke and Hume 2008), Île aux Aigrettes

Written Accounts of the Dodo

45

(C. Jones [see Kitchener 1993a]; Moree 1998 [see Cheke 2004]), Île aux Bénitiers (Fuller 2002; Hume 2003), and Îlot Fourneau (Grihault 2005a). The islet was described as being higher than neighboring ones, overgrown with sward; it had a large tree and a small rivulet, and could be reached at low tide without swimming. On the islet Evertsz and the others also found tortoises and goats, the latter of which had nicks cut in their ears as a mark of ownership; these had probably been placed there by the Dutch, although it is possible that they could have swam there. The mention of caught birds calling out, attracting others, is reminiscent of the account of Mauritian parrots given by Van West-Zanen (1648) and red rails given by Hoffmann (see below). It is not known whether Evertsz and the others killed all the dodos on the islet, but it is quite possible (Cheke 2004a). That Evertsz described dodos as fast running does not indicate that they were not true dodos, which undoubtedly they were (contra Mlíkovský 2004; see chapter 6). Hume (2006) stated that because the account was written several years after the event it might not be completely reliable. The same, however, could be said of several accounts mentioning the dodo. Evertsz’s account has been regarded by some to represent the last recorded sighting of the dodo (Cheke 1987, 2006; Ziswiler 1996). There is an eighteenth-century MS translation of Van Quellenburgh’s 1684 version of Evertsz’s account in the British Library.33 The section mentioning the dodo reads, Amongst these Birds were those which in India they call Dod-aerssen, (being a kind of very big Goose,); these Birds are unable to fly, and instead of wings they merely have a few small pins, yet they can run very swift. We drove them together into one place in such a manner, that we could catch them with our hands; and when we held one of them by its leg, and that upon this it made a great noise, the other all on a sudden came running as fast as they could to its assistance; and by which they were caught and made Prisoners also . . . many land and sea turtles . . . Their flesh was of as pleasant a taste as that of fowls; . . . As now we not only had fish but also meat of fowls, other Birds and wild Goats in abundance, and that moreover we were able to eat all this either boiled or roasted, according to our own pleasure. (foll. 27–29)

On November 12 Andries Stokram and 33 others boarded the Zwarten Arent (under the command of Hubert Hugo; see below), taking with them 150 dried goats, which they had salted. These other survivors of the Aernhem disaster arrived back in the Netherlands in May 1663. Four editions of Stokram’s account were published: by Jacob Venckel (1663), Jan van Duisberg (Amsterdam, 1663), the widow of Theunis Jacobsz (1663), and Saeghman (Amsterdam, n.d.). Stokram’s description of the dodo was taken from previous work (probably editions of Van Neck’s account: Stokram mentions that four men could sit on a tortoise as it walked and that ten could sit inside its carapace). There is no evidence that Stokram visited the islet where Evertsz and others saw dodos, which is probably why a secondhand description was used. In his account we read that here one finds tortoises, which can creep forward with four men, and in whose shells ten [men] can sit, here are also doves, herons, gray parrots, and a certain type of birds as large as swans with thick heads, whereon skins lay as cloths/lobes; in place of wings (for they have not [any]) her sides are occupied by with three or 46

The Dodo and the Solitaire

four black small feathers, and, for the tail, the back part of the body [is set] with four or five grayish curled small plumes; besides yet many other animals and pleasant fruits. (Stokram 1663, 11)

1.26.  A hunt on Mauritius, from Saeghman’s edition of Stokram (Stokram n.d.).

Saeghman commissioned illustrations for his edition, but these were poor. Just above the description of the dodo is a figure of the men hunting on Mauritius (fig. 1.26). The bird in the foreground may be supposed to represent a goose, or perhaps even a dodo, but it was almost certainly not drawn from life and was probably invented to enhance the account. Simon van den Kerckhooven’s account, also published in 1663, indicates that had one desire to [get] tortoises you only had to go into the wood, they are there in abundance as well as a multitude of hogs; the young ones could be caught, but the older were not to be obtained; found also many valleys that were so occupied with swans, geese, that it was unbelievable, unless one has seen it himself, also in the trees [which were] full with a multitude of extraordinary plumed birds, so that I said while seeing it, it is nothing else than a painting of paradise; daily we also got birds, Velt-hoenders, turtledoves, and extraordinary bats. (Van den Kerckhooven 1663, 15)

Although there is no mention of dodos by name, he does mention swans, which are unknown on Mauritius and could possibly refer to the dodo. However, it is unlikely that either Stokram or Van den Kerckhooven actually saw any dodos. Johan van Hal, an officer and bookkeeper, also wrote an account, “Wonderlijck en seltsaem verhael van het schip Aernhem” (Van Wissen Written Accounts of the Dodo

47

1995). He had departed with other officers from Mauritius on February 28 in the ship’s boat for Madagascar, and arrived back in the Netherlands in June 1663 (Moree 1998).

Jacob Granaet 1666

The Last Days

Jacob Granaet, a bookkeeper, was on board the Hoogh Caspel, which visited Mauritius from to July 30 to September 15, 1666. Granaet’s account of 1666 cannot be taken as negative evidence of the dodo (contra Hume 2006), as the author notes that “within the forests dwell parrots, turtle and other wild doves, mischievous and unusually large ravens, falcons, bats and other birds whose names I do not know, never having seen such before” (quoted in Barnwell 1948, 42; my italics). Commander Hugo When Hubert Gerritsz Hugo rescued survivors of the Aernhem disaster from Mauritius, five slaves escaped from his ship and vanished into the forest. In October 1668 Van Laar reported that escaped slaves were hiding in an area that has been suggested to have been around Morne Brabant (Selvon 2001). In his manuscript journal (reported by Pitot 1905) of current unknown whereabouts, Hugo recorded that he had sent out a party seven or eight miles into the west,34 to recapture these five slaves. They returned with a fugitive slave of about 25 years old, Simon, who had spent 11 years (1663–1674) in hiding. Simon and another had a cabin, garden, and cattle in the forest and Simon said that the interior of the island contained “splendid and inaccessible sites, as one would never discover unless being led there by one of them” (Pitot 1905, 171). Simon reported that during this period in the forest he had only seen dodaersen twice, suggesting that they were very scarce. Cheke (1987, 2001, 2004a) considered these to represent true dodos. His reason for assuming this was that red rails were still quite common at the time and probably would not have warranted special notice. However, he later (2006) concluded from the results of his estimation of the extinction date for the dodo (see chapter 6) that Simon probably did not see dodos after all, but red rails (see below). However, as Hugo had endeavored to enquire about dodos, Cheke and Hume (2008) suspected that Simon’s birds were true dodos, although they added that Simon might have lied, or have understood the name differently. Unfortunately, the original report remains unpublished, with only Pitot’s (1905) edited version available. Hugo also reported that hunters captured and killed dodos and other game for him, in a letter to the commander of the Cape of Good Hope colony, Isbrand Goske, dated August 16, 1673, now in the collection of the Western Cape Archives and Records Service, South Africa (1674, Archives of the Secretary, Council of Police, 1649–1795, Cape Town Archives Repository, C293; Hume et al. 2004).35 Unfortunately, no description was given. However, Cheke observed that Hoffmann (see below), who was preacher under Hugo’s regime, used the name for the red rail and that it may be that

48

The Dodo and the Solitaire

the name was standard for red rails “in the small Dutch community at the time” (2006, 156). Furthermore, he noted, the Aernhem survivors Hugo rescued were not those that had visited the islet where Evertsz and his companions saw dodos, and therefore he could not have seen (or heard of) dodos at that time, for later distinction from red rails. However, there is no evidence that dodos were extinct in the secluded forested interior by this period. It is evident that dodos were eaten, most probably by escaped slaves, from remains found in rock shelters (Janoo 2005; see chapters 5 and 6). Benjamin Harry’s Account A manuscript, held in the British Library,36 entitled “A Coppey of mr Benj: Harry’s Journall when he was Cheif mate of the Shippe Berkly Castle. Capt Wm. Talbot then Comand. on a voyage to the Coste and Bay 1679. wch voyage they Winterd att ye Maurisshes” (MS Sloane 3668, fol.89), mentions the dodo. The Berkley Castle left Deptford on November 19, 1679 and sailed on January 3, 1680, returning to England on December 14, 1681. On July 4, 1681 the land of “ey Marushes” was sighted and on July 9 they started to build huts there (MS Sloane 3668, fol. 107r). Benjamin Harry described the island. The description was written on July 12 or shortly thereafter and the Berkley Castle left Mauritius on September 12. Harry writes, Now having a little respitt I will make a little descripti: of ye Island first of its Producks and yn of itts parts – ffirst of winged and feathered ffowle ye less passant, are Dodos whose fflesh is very hard, a small sort of Gees reasona ^bly good Teele, Curleues, Pasea fflemingos, Turtle-Doves large Batts many small Birds wch: are good. (MS Sloane 3668, fol. 107r)37

He goes on to mention other animals and plants, their edibility and use (including wild goats, deer, bullocks, wild hogs, tortoises, turtles, ebony and a variety of fish and plants). This descriptive account suggests that the author had not simply taken a list of fauna from another source, but is mentioning animals the crew encountered on the island. Furthermore, there was no reason to use a previous account: this was not a work that was destined for public entertainment. Despite this, it is not entirely clear to which bird the name “Dodo” is applied (see below). Cheke (1987, 2001, 2004a, 2006) thought that Harry’s “Dodos” were probably red rails (Aphanapteryx bonasia; see chapter 6). However, the flesh of the dodo was considered by some to be tough, whereas that of the red rail was described as “good meat,” although hard-skinned when roasted (Marshall 1668), perhaps suggesting that Harry’s birds were true dodos (contra Cheke and Hume 2008). Furthermore, Harry also listed “Curleues” which could represent Numenius phaeopus, known from Mauritius from a few subfossil bones and from post-seventeenth-century mentions, or could refer to the red rail, in which case the mention of “Dodos” would be of the true dodo. This represented the last known sighting of the dodo for some time, until Lamotius’s diaries were examined, and has led to the extinction date of the dodo mistakenly being given as 1681 in many books.

Written Accounts of the Dodo

49

Isaac Johannes Lamotius Isaac Johannes Lamotius was commander of Mauritius from 1677 to 1692, succeeding Hugo. He was also a keen naturalist and artist who became knowledgeable on the fauna and flora of Mauritius. He arrived on the island on September 17, 1677 (Moree 1988). His journals from 1685 to 1688 are kept in the Cape Archives in Cape Town, South Africa. Due to insufficient food being available for the inhabitants, Lamotius had to send a group of hunters daily into the interior to capture animals: they mainly brought back pigs, goats, and deer, but also some other fauna. In his daily journal Lamotius recorded what, and how many, animals the hunters brought back (Moree 1998). In all, at least 50 dodos are listed during the period 1685–1688, caught by hunters from the settlement and fugitive slaves (Sleigh 2000). Lamotius also recorded flamingos, geese, and teal (Cheke 2006). By 1698 no dodos were to be seen (Sleigh 2000). De Jong, the woodcutter, brought back game to the main camp, including goats, deer, pigs, and calves (joosjes). The last entry where dodos (dodaerschen) are mentioned is apparently on November 25, 1688 (Hume et al. 2004; Jan den Hengst, pers. comm., February 21, 2007). Den Hengst thought that red rails (along with ducks, geese, etc.) would not have been big enough to be considered significant game and as such dodaarsen probably refers to the larger true dodos (pers. comm., February 21, 2007). Dugongs, flamingos, geese, ducks, tortoises, and turtles were also occasionally caught (Jan den Hengst, pers. comm., March 24, 2007; Cheke and Hume 2008). [March 29, 1685] The hunters returned in the afternoon with 3 he-goats 1 she-goat 4 hogs, 1 dodaars, and 1 tortoise. [August 31, 1685] In the evening the hunters came with 120 young coco trees from the west, besides 4 dodaarsen, 3 hogs, 2 he-goats, and 1 female deer. [December 2, 1685] The hunters caught this day 1 male deer, 1 ditto young one, 4 hogs and 2 dodaarsen. [January 10, 1686] The hunters departed for the west to hunt. [January 11, 1686] The hunters came back with 4 hogs, 2 he-goats, 6 dodaarsen, and 1 deer cow or female. [July 13, 1686] 2 men came from the west with 1 female deer, 1 ditto young one, 1 ditto young male, 1 hog, and 2 dodaarsen. August 6, 1687: the hunters had returned from the west (the interior) with two dodaarsen. [Moree 1998, 87–88] August 2, 1688: the hunters returned from the west with two “fat arses.” [Den Hengst 2003, 30] [October 2, 1688] The hunters caught 4 she-goats, 2 hogs, 2 young deer, and 2 dodaarsen. [November 1688] By the hunters were caught 2 male deer, 6 ditto females, 4 ditto young ones, 4 she-goats, 2 ditto young ones, 14 hogs, 2 young sea cow calves, and 3 dodaarsen. November 25, 1688: two dodos brought to the settlement. (All extracts translated from Den Hengst 2009, 145, with additional sources added)

Cheke (2004a) surmised that the entries might in fact refer to red rails. Hume et al. (2004; Hume 2006) thought that Lamotius, being an educated naturalist, would probably not have confused the dodo and rail. However, Cheke added that he might not have been able to, given the scarcity of the former and the absence of unambiguous records of red rails in his journal:

50

The Dodo and the Solitaire

1.27.  The settlement at Vuyle Boght, showing a Mauritian goose, as well as a deer, goat, pigs, and birds. Inset: an enlargement of the goose.

“It is probable that by his time only one flightless bird was present, in local parlance known as ‘dodaers’, so that is what he too called it – but it is more likely to have been the Red Hen than the Dodo.” Furthermore, although Lamotius was interested in natural history, there was no evidence “of an interest in birds other than as food” (2006, 157). Lamotius’s dodaarsen are not described (Julian Hume 2004 [see Cheke and Hume 2004]), so their identification remains unresolved. In a report on the state of the colony on Mauritius, Lamotius, replying to a request from Simon van der Stel, governor of the Cape, imparted ten places where dodos could be found (Pitot 1905 [see Staub 1996]). This MS was addressed to Van der Stel on September 7, 1690, by the Haantje.38 Unfortunately, this report also remains unpublished. An anonymous undated illustration of the settlement at Vuyle Boght, near Port de Flacq, (fig. 1.27) was attributed by Grove (1995) to Lamotius,

Written Accounts of the Dodo

51

1677, and stated to show the dodo (the last image drawn from life).39 In actual fact the bird represents the goose Alopochen mauritianus and the illustration itself accompanied a letter dated December 20, 1670, by George Frederick van Wreeden and H. Klingenbergh sent to the VOC (Algemeen Rijksarchief VOC 4006; Cheke 2001). Roelof Deodati, 1698 Roelof Deodati, commander of Mauritius from 1692 to 1703, sent a dispatch to the Cape in February 1698. In it, he noted, “not a single wild goose is seen here any more for the same reason [that they had been hunted to extinction]. Formerly they were caught by the hand” (quoted in Barnwell 1948, 73). Barnwell (1948) presumed that “wild goose” referred to the dodo, but gave no supporting evidence for this, and as such it cannot be taken as a record mentioning that bird. Cheke and Hume (2008) regarded it as a goose (Alopochen mauritianus).40

The Red Rail and the Dodo

There has been some confusion regarding the later reports as to which refer to the dodo and which to the red rail. This is due to two accounts, which describe the rail under names given to the dodo (Dodos, Toddärsche). It has been suggested that the name of the rare dodo was transferred to, or at least also used for, the more common red rail (Cheke 1987, 2004a, 2006). It may have been applied to the round-rumped fowl the inhabitants most commonly encountered. It should be noted, however, that both accounts are by foreign visitors and postdate the Dutch resettlement of Mauritius of 1664. This name usage puts doubt on the referral of the later accounts of the dodo to that bird. Furthermore, there is no mention of red rails, at least under an unambiguous name, in the accounts of Hugo or Lamotius (Hume et al. 2004). A lack of continuous settlement on Mauritius also adds to the problem (the Dutch abandoned Mauritius between 1658 and 1664). However, the dodo was known under the name of doddaers in Batavia, and Evertsz noted that they were called doddaerssen in the East Indies. This suggests that there was a continuation of the application of the name to the true dodo during the period of Dutch absence from Mauritius. Table 1.1 compares the names given to the dodo and the red rail in those accounts that mention both species. John Marshall The first of the two accounts is by John Marshall: “Memorandums concerning India from September 11th 1668 to January 1st 1671/2 Per J. M. M[arshall].” Marshall was English traveler on board the Unicorn, which was at Mauritius from July 30, 1668, and departed on August 7 (British Library, Harleian MS 4252; Khan 1927). In his description of Mauritius (1668), he mentioned, Here are also great plenty of Dodos, or red hens, which are larger a little than our English henns, have long beakes and no, or very little, Tayles. Their fethers are 52

The Dodo and the Solitaire

Table 1.1 Account

Dodo (Raphus)

Red rail (Aphanapteryx)

Cornelisz (1602, 1646)

walchvogels, Wallichvogels

velthoenderen, Velt-hoenders1

Verken (1611)

Totersten, Walckvögel

Feldhüner

Anonymous (1631)

dottaerssen

velthoenders

Herbert (1634 et seq.)

Dodo(s)

Hen(s), Hoenderen

Mundy (1634, 1638)

Dodo(es)

Mauritius hen(ns)

Cauche (1651)

oiseaux de Nazaret

“poules rouges, au bec de becasse”

Evertsz (1670, 1696)

doddaerssen, Dodderse

berghoenders, Berghüner

1. The name also used for the partridge, Tetrao perdix. Cf. German Feldhuhn (Nemnich 1793, vol. 2).

like downe, and their wings so little that is not able to support their bodies; but they have long leggs and will runn very fast, that a man shall not take them, they will turne so about the trees. They are good meate when roasted, tasting somthing like pig, and their skin like pig skin when roosted, being hard. (Liber A: British Library, Harleian MS 4254 [quoted in Khan 1927, 47–48])

The name dodo for the red rail had presumably been picked up by Marshall from the inhabitants, suggesting that it was “standard local term” (Cheke 2006, 156). The English had no name for the red rail (see table 1.1), so Marshall may have used the name Dodo for it (Dodo was the name most commonly used by the English for the true dodo). This also supports the idea that the “curleues” of Harry (1681) were red rails. Marshall reported that Mauritius was uninhabited, although the Dutch had resettled in 1664. This suggests that Marshall did not travel widely. Marshall also mentioned goats, pigs, cattle, monkeys, bats, geese, ducks, turtledoves, parrots, herons, boobies, and tortoises. Johann Christian Hoffmann The second account is by Johann Christian Hoffmann, who was appointed preacher by Hugo. He lived on Mauritius from February 13, 1673, until March 17, 1675 (Hachisuka 1953). In his travel description he mentioned red birds called Toddärsche. He says, finally a particular kind of red birds, which one calls Toddärsche, and are the size of a common hen, which because [they] do not fly, nonetheless, however, [they] can run fast, [and] become caught in the following ridiculous and sure way: one takes in the right hand a small stick, the left, however, one winds with a small red cloth, which one holds up such form [to] those birds; thus oneself commonly finds [them] together in crowds, just as if holding up a lure, after which these foolish birds make themselves almost without shyness (I know not whether they hate this color so much or love [it]); if they are then close enough, one strikes and gets them thus, as soon as one has but one and takes the same in the hand, then the others also run to this, as it were to save the captive, and become paid with same coin [i.e., suffer the same fate]. (Hoffmann 1680, 52)

Behn (1868), considering the description to relate to the dodo, thought that Hoffmann’s description was inaccurate, as were those of other fauna such as the dugong, and that he did not actually see a dodo, stating that by 1673 the dodo had become so rare that one could live on the island for two years and not see it and that reports of it had become fabulous. In contrast, Von Frauenfeld (1868b) considered it to represent the red rail (Aphanapteryx Written Accounts of the Dodo

53

bonasia), as it undoubtedly does, and that the name of the dodo had been transferred to it. One should also keep in mind that it might have been Hoffmann’s mistake: on being told about flightless birds that were easily to catch and were called “Toddärsche” he may have seen red rails and assumed that was what the locals meant. Describing the parrot Lophopsittacus, Hoffmann wrote that they “are named Indian Ravens by the Dutch” (Hoffmann 1931, 46–47), further confirming that he used Dutch names for birds he saw. Hachisuka (1953) stated that dodos were probably so rare by this time that Hoffmann had probably never seen one. There are two additional points to be noticed from this account: firstly the red rails were to be found “commonly . . . together thus in droves,” and secondly that the cries of one attracted others: a trait also noted for the dodo (by Evertsz) and other birds. Few reports mention both Raphus and Aphanapteryx, and it is evident that Hoffmann and Marshall were describing the latter and not the former. Unfortunately, there are no unequivocal mentions of dodos after 1662, and no unequivocal mainland records after 1638.

54

The Dodo and the Solitaire

Written Accounts of the Rodrigues Solitaire

The Rodrigues solitaire was first scientifically considered as a separate species, distinct from the dodo of Mauritius, by Gmelin (1788); this distinction was later reinforced by Strickland (1844, 1848). Although Rodrigues was visited by Harmansz’s fleet in 1601, no specific mention of the solitaire was made. On the morning of September 20, 1601, they were only four leagues from Rodrigues and the yacht Duyfje was sent along the north coast, where it entered the lagoon and landed at what is now Port Mathurin (North-Coombes 1971).

2 Introduction

On the 21 September Anno 1601 we followed the yacht. Then it [the weather] was calmed to the 23 ditto. In the morning [the] yacht came again to us bringing also all kinds of birds which were distributed over the fleet with all that [the] yacht had also brought and brought us tidings that on the island Diego Rodrigus [there] was good refreshment to obtain. (Overige Stukken no.9, no.135, Archieven van de Compagnieën op Oost-Indië, 1594–1603, Nationaal Archief, The Hague, fol. 27v; Moree 2001, 78)

They circumnavigated Rodrigues and stayed there for three days (September 20–23), but, as there was no harbor or fresh water to be found, the admiral and his council decided to leave Rodrigues for Mauritius. Viceadmiral Hans Hendricksz Bouwer, captain of the Zeelandt, recorded that there were “doves, parrots, geese, dodoerssen, and other birds” on Rodrigues (Moree 2001, 158). His report, however, was not written until 1604. Herbert (1634) mentioned dodos on “Dygarroys” (Rodrigues; see chapter 1). In addition, Hamon L’Estrange’s description has also been suggested to refer to a solitaire.

When the Protestants were expelled from France by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes (1685), the Marquis Henri du Quesne made plans for a colony to be established on Réunion. A ship, the Hirondelle, was prepared, and captained by Antoine Valleau. Valleau, from the island of Ré, was a sailor of La Rochelle and also a Huguenot refugee. He had been entrusted by Quesne to introduce the group of colonists to their new home (Dupon 1969). On learning that the French still occupied the island, Valleau changed course for Rodrigues.

Memoirs of a Refugee: Leguat’s Account

Valleau’s Account Before dawn on April 30, 1691, the Hirondelle anchored off the north coast of Rodrigues with François Leguat, leader of the colonists, and his companions

55

on board (Staub 1973). Leguat stated that on his return on the evening of April 30, Valleau “brought back several sorts of great and good Birds: I experienced the Truth of that by making an agreeable Meal on this new and unknown Dish” (Leguat 1708, 46). The Hirondelle was at Rodrigues from April 30 to May 14 (North-Coombes 1986). Valleau’s account is included in a document entitled “Interrogatoire du Nommé Valleau de l’Isle de Rhé qui raconte son Voyage a l’Ile Rodrigues avec François Leguat,” dated May 20, 1692. It bears the subtitle, “On the Isle Rodrigue which has 25 miles circumference, its productions.” Valleau found that there are plenty of tortoises and birds larger than the turkeys [coqs d’Inde], called solitaires, which one takes by hand, and many fish; that he left there eight passengers with grain and all kinds of seeds to see what the ground could produce. (1692, 185; Dupon 1969, 19)

Dupon (1969) noted that the solitaire appeared to be already known by this time and speculated that there might be a previous account that was yet unnoticed. However, the bird was almost certainly named after the Réunion species, mentioned in Quesne’s work. The name solitaire had been first applied to a brevipennate bird of Réunion (see chapter 4) by authors, including Quesne in his work “Un projet de république” (1689), which promoted the idea of a Huguenot colony on Réunion. The name was then adopted by Valleau and François Leguat for the bird of Rodrigues. François Leguat’s Account Leguat, and his younger companions – Paul Bénelle, Jacques de la Case, Isaac Boyer, Jean de la Haye, Jean Testard, Robert Anselin, and Pierre Thomas – spent two years on Rodrigues, from May 1, 1691, to May 21, 1693. They eventually left the island by constructing a raft and going to Mauritius. After being imprisoned on Mauritius and sent to Batavia, Leguat eventually arrived in England, where he wrote his account. It is debatable how much input Leguat’s editor, Francis (François) Maximilien Misson, had. Some have suggested that he was in fact the author (e.g., Mortensen 1933). However, the work is written in the first person, and it is likely that Leguat was the main, if not sole, author. In the preface it is stated that Leguat had written down his Memoirs and showed them to his friends and acquaintances, who persuaded him to publish them: “As for Me then, I write in French, and in plain French” (Leguat 1708, vii). From early on there were disparagers, evidently including other Huguenots who disliked Leguat. According to Bernard (1707), the preface to the work was not written by the author of the rest of the book, and, indeed, it is possible that Misson scripted this section. The contemporary bibliophile Jean Bouhier thought, improbably, that Leguat’s account was composed by Frédéric Auguste Gabillon. Later writers also thought that Leguat’s account was written (Hamel 1848), or published (Lüttschwager 1961), with the help of the ex-Benedictine Gabillon. According to the Catholic Casimir Freschot, the preface was by Misson and the main text was drawn up by Paul Bénelle, one of Leguat’s companions (Sauzier 1887).1 However, based on an authoritative source, Sauzier concluded that Leguat was indeed the author. Van Eeghen (1952) thought that Leguat provided Misson with the 56

The Dodo and the Solitaire

material for the work. Certain anomalous or controversial sections were attributed by Racault (1995) to additions by Misson, but most of the account probably originated with Leguat. In conclusion, Misson might have been the compiler and collaborator in Leguat’s work, but the basic work was Leguat’s own (cf. Oliver 1891). Bernard further stated that there were some facts in the work that were “absolutely false,” and that the whole book was “a tissue of rubbish, which envelops the adventures so much that it is necessary to reform it to correct it” (1707, 605). He added that Leguat could not speak of Rodrigues and what he saw there, and gave Quesne’s account instead – which is not the case. Bernard concluded, “In spite of some additions made in various places in this voyage, which usually consist of reflections, [and] which are easy to distinguish, the reading is extremely pleasant” (622). The dedication of the French edition bears the date “Le 7. Octobre, A Londres, 1707,” and the work was released in that month (Racault and Carile 1995). Another edition, published in Amsterdam (by Jean Louis de Lorme), also appeared at around the same time. The English translation of 1708 may have been undertaken by Misson, possibly assisted by John Ozell (Oliver 1891). The English edition was reprinted, with notes, by Oliver (1891). A German translation (1709) was also published. The sections concerning the solitaire, from the English edition, read, Having abundance of better things to feed on, Fish and Flesh, Fruits, &c. we left the Dates for the Turtles and other Birds, particularly the Solitaries, of which we shall hereafter make mention. (Leguat 1708, 61) Of all the Birds in the Island, the most Remarkable is that which goes by the Name of the Solitary, because ’tis very seldom seen in Company, tho’ there are abundance of them. The feathers of the Males are of a brown, grey Colour: The Feet and Beak are like a Turkeys, but a little more crooked. They have scarce any Tail, but their Hind-part cover’d with Feathers is Roundish, like the Crupper of a Horse, they are taller than Turkeys. Their Neck is straight, and a little longer in proportion than a Turkeys, when it lifts up his Head. Its Eye black & lively, and its Head without Comb or Cop. They never fly, their Wings are too little to support the weight of their Bodies; they serve only to beat themselves, and flutter when they call one another. They will whirl about for twenty or thirty times together on the same side, during the space of four or five Minutes: The Motions of their Wings makes then a noise very like that of a Rattle;[2] and one may hear it more than two hundred Paces off. The Bone of their Wing grows greater towards the Extemity, and forms a little round Mass under the Feathers, as big as a Musket Ball: That and its Beak are the chief Defence of this Bird. ’Tis very hard to catch it in Woods, but easie in open Places, because we run faster than they, and sometimes we approach them without much Trouble. From March to September they are extreamly fat, and tast admirably well, especially while they are young, some of the Males weigh forty five Pound. The Females are wonderfully beautiful, some fair, some brown; I call them fair because they are of the colour of fair Hair: They have a sort of Peak like a Widow’s[3] upon their Breasts,[4] which is of a dun Colour. No one Feather is stragling from the other all over their Bodies, they being very careful to adjust themselves, and make them all even with their Beaks. The Feathers on their Thighs are round like shells at the end,[5] and being there very thick, have an agreeable effect: They have two Risings on their Craws, and the Feathers are whiter than the rest, which livelily Represents the fine Neck of a Beautiful Woman.[6] They walk with so much Stateliness and good Grace, that one cannot help admiring and loving them; by which means their fine Mein often saves their Lives. Written Accounts of the Rodrigues Solitaire

57

Tho’ these Birds will sometimes very familiarly come up near enough to one, when we do not run after them, yet they will never grow Tame: As soon as they are caught they shed Tears without Crying, and refuse all manner of Sustenance till they die. We find in the Gizards of both Male and Female a brown Stone, of the bigness of a Hens Egg. ’Tis somewhat rough, flat on one side, and round on the other, heavy and hard. We believe this Stone was there when they were hatched, for let them be never so young, you meet with it always. They have never but one of ’em, and besides, the Passage from the Craw to the Gizard is so narrow, that a like Mass, of half the bigness cou’d not pass. It serv’d to whet our Knives, better than any other Stone whatsoever. When these Birds build their Nests, they choose a clean Place, gather together some Palm Leaves for that purpose, and heap them up a foot and a half high from the Ground, on which they sit. They never lay but one Egg, which is much bigger than that of a Goose. The Male and Female both cover it in their turns, and the young is not hatch’d till at seven Weeks end: All the while they are sitting upon it, or are bringing up their young one, which is not able to provide for its self in several Months, they will not suffer any other Bird of their Species to come within two hundred yards round of the Place: But what is very singular, is, The Males will never drive away the Females, only when he perceives one he makes a noise with his Wings to call the Female, and she drives the unwelcome Stranger away, not leaving it till ’tis without her Bounds. The Female do’s the same as to the Males, whom she leaves to the Male, and he drives them away. We have observ’d this several times, and I affirm it to be true. The Combats between them on this occasion lasts sometimes pretty long, because the Stranger only turns about, and do’s not fly directly from the Nest: However, the others do not forsake it, till they have quite driv’n it out of their Limits. After these Birds have rais’d their young One, and left it to its self, they are always together, which the other Birds are not, and tho’ they happen to mingle with other Birds of the same Species, these two Companions never disunite. We have often remark’d, that some days after the young one leaves the Nest, a Company of thirty or forty brings another young one to it; and the new fledg’d Bird with its Father and Mother joyning with the Band, march to some bye Place. We frequently follow’d them, and found that afterwards the old ones went each their way alone, or in Couples, and left the two young ones together, which we call’d a Marriage. This Particularity has something in it which looks a little Fabulous, nevertheless, what I say is sincere Truth, and what I have more than once observ’d with Care and Pleasure; neither cou’d I forbear to entertain my Mind with several Reflections on this Occasion. I sent Mankind to learn of the Beasts. I commended my Solitaries for marrying young (a piece of Wisdom practis’d by our Jews) for satisfying Nature in a proper time; and when she wants to be satisfy’d according to the state of the same Nature, and conformable to the intention of the Creator. I admir’d the Happiness of these innocent and faithful Pairs, who liv’d so peaceably in a constant Love: I said to my self, if our Pride and Extravagance were restrain’d, if Men were or had been as wise as these Birds, to say all at once, they wou’d marry as these Birds do, without any other Pomp or Ceremony, without Contracts or Jointures, without Portions or Settlements,[7] without subjection to any Laws, and without any Offence, with which Nature wou’d be most pleas’d, and the Common-Wealth most benefited; for Divine and Human Laws, are only Precautions against the Disorders of Mankind. Know, kind Reader, that my chief Employment in this Desart Island was thinking, and suffer me therefore sometimes to speak my Thoughts. I have already giv’n you notice, that you were not to expect a Dissertation on the Antiquity of Greek Accents, nor on Manuscripts of our Eden, nor on the Medals found there, any more than Descriptions of its Amphitheaters, Palaces and Temples. (71–74) They [Sea-Fowl] lay three times a year, and but one Egg at a time, like the Solitaries; which is the more Remarkable, for that if I am not Mistaken, we have no Example of any thing like it among our European Birds. (80)8 58

The Dodo and the Solitaire

On leaving Rodrigues Leguat made an address mentioning the “Little and lovely Island” and remarking on “Thy Solitaries; thy Lamentines [dugongs]” (1708, 116). Leguat (or Misson) stated in the introduction to the work, “It never enter’d into my Thoughts to adorn my History, to exaggerate any thing at the expence of that Truth, which I have always Respected. And I will add for your Satisfaction, that there are living Witnesses [Paul Benelle, then in Amsterdam, and Jacques de la Case, then in America] of everything I have reported” (1708, viii). He may have also written some of his account while on Rodrigues (Hachisuka 1953), but most probably did not have it with him in written form when he arrived in Europe. Elsewhere in his work, Leguat refers to Willughby (1676), Dellon (1685), and Quesne (1689) – evidence that he, or Misson, had consulted these works. Leguat’s habitation was apparently at 60° 51' 30"E 19° 40' 40"S, as it was also the site of Pingré’s observatory (see below; Strickland 1848). On a map made by Tafforet, “Piton de François le Gac” is marked, being located near the present Port Mathurin (North-Coombes 1971). At the beginning of Leguat’s work is “A Map of the Island of Diego Ruyz or Diego Rodrigo” in which 16 solitaires are seen scattered all over the island. There is also “A Plan of the Settlement,” depicting a further 12 solitaires (figs. 2.1 and 2.2), “obviously drawn by Leguat,” along with native trees, the distribution of which extended down to the shore in Leguat’s time (North-Coombes 1971, 260). The main plate of solitaire (fig. 2.3) was presumably drawn by Leguat, or at least made under his direction. The plant in the Written Accounts of the Rodrigues Solitaire

2.1.  “A Map of the Island of Diego Ruyz or Diego Rodrigo” (Leguat 1708), with enlargements of the solitaires. Note the slight difference in size between individuals in the pairs of solitaires on the map, and the distribution of the birds over the whole island. (from the French edition of Leguat, opposite page 1). Cf. fig. Intro.3.

59

background was most probably taken from Rochefort (1658, 84): “Du Calebassier” (Crescentia cujete, from America). Otto Helms (1930) erroneously considered the figure to be completely invented. Although the figure looks reasonably accurate, one should note that the other illustrations in the work, such as that of the cobra, are not entirely realistic. Leguat also stated that he himself was an inexpert artist; he wrote of the plan of the settlement, “I desire he [i.e., the reader] wou’d pardon my deficiency in Designing” (1708, 47). Mortensen thought that, despite comparing well with the skeleton, the figure “very probably . . . does not give a better idea of what the Solitaire really looked like than the . . . figures give of the Orang-utan and the Cobra” (1933, 27). As it is unlikely that Leguat would have represented the giant tortoises as the small figures depicted in the frontispiece (fig. 2.4) it may be assumed that he was not the artist of this plate – it might have been Jan van Lamsvelt (1674–1743), the artist of the frontispiece of the Dutch edition (cf. Swaen 1940). The veracity of Leguat’s account was confirmed on site in Rodrigues by Tafforet, Pingré, and others. Although accepting his account, Buffon noted that “Leguat seems to be a lover and an admirer, however no connoisseur and critic, of nature. He likes his favorite bird, of which he speaks with so much almost poetic fire, perhaps regarded it from a favorable side” (1776, 185). Despite this, Buffon ascertained that Leguat

2.2.  “A Plan of the Settlement” (Leguat 1708, opposite 47), with enlargements of the solitaires. Note no. 9, the tree under which they ate their meals at the right of no. 3.

speaks about it not only as an eyewitness, but as an observer who had stuck particularly & a long time to study the manners & the practices of this bird; and 60

The Dodo and the Solitaire

indeed, his relation though spoiled in some places by fabulous ideas (i), contains nevertheless more historical details on the solitaire than I find in a [whole] heap of writings on birds more generally and much longer known. One has spoken about the ostrich for thirty centuries, and one is still unaware today of how many eggs it lays and how much time it takes to brood them [(i) For example, about the first coupling of young solitaires, where his closed imagination shows to him the formalities of a kind of marriage; about the stone of the stomach, &c.]. (1770, 491)

Buffon might have considered Leguat to have a “closed imagination” (that is, to have fixed ideas), as the latter was a Protestant, unlike Buffon. Cuvier remarked, “the solitaire (didus solitarius) rests only on the testimony of Leguat, Voy. I, p.98, a man who disfigures the best-known animals, such as the hippopotamus and the dugong” (1817, 463). Noting that Leguat’s description differed somewhat from that of the dodo, Cuvier remarked, “his testimony is a little suspect” (1831, 207). Later, Cuvier identified some bones of Pezophaps as those of the dodo (see chapter 5), which did not aid the case for the existence of the Rodrigues solitaire. Lesson thought that Leguat’s solitaire was “very probably the young of the albatross, which this traveler has characterized very poorly, and of which the description is filled with puerile facts which are self contradictory” (1831, 11). Blainville (1835), noting the differences between Leguat’s description of the solitaire and those of the dodo, considered the former to be the result of Leguat’s imagination. The truthfulness of Leguat’s account and figure has since been confirmed by osteological discoveries and other contemporary accounts. For example, the rugosity in the fronto-nasal region, the form of the pelvis suggesting that the hind parts were indeed “Roundish, like the Crupper of a

2.3.  “The Solitary-Bird” (Leguat 1708, opposite 71).

2.4.  The frontispiece to Leguat’s work (Leguat 1708), depicting a male solitaire, according to Hachisuka (1953). Written Accounts of the Rodrigues Solitaire

61

Horse,” the length of the neck and legs, the presence of a carpometacarpal exostosis, pronounced sexual dimorphism, and the presence of a single gastrolith. Furthermore, aspects of its behavior are now recognized in many other birds. Leguat’s was the only exact estimate of territory in birds given until the twentieth century (Armstrong 1953). Armstrong remarked, “Leguat’s account is the earliest detailed description of territory. It is strange that the first man to have paid attention to these facts of behaviour, now realised as being typical of many species, should have been a non-ornithologist on a ‘desert island’ observing a bird which has now become extinct” (1953, 224). Despite this, Geoffroy Atkinson (1922) attempted to set forth an argument that Leguat’s work was actually that of Misson and that Leguat’s solitaire was wholly invented – composed using descriptions by Cauche, Carré, Dubois, and Quesne, and osteological features of European swans and geese for the metacarpal tuberosity, with other details taken from observations of bird skeletons or simply made up. The tan color of the beak was taken, he thought, from Cauche: “Leur perdris ont le bec rouge, il y en a de tannées.” He considered the account of fighting using the wing to be taken from observations of the European swan. Atkinson (1965) considered the description of the solitaire taken “directly” from those of Cauche, Carré, Dubois, and Quesne of the “same” bird. However, the birds of these authors were in fact the Mauritius dodo, Madagascar partridges (Cauche), and the Réunion solitaire (Carré, Dubois, Quesne). Percy Adams (1962, 1983) also repeated Atkinson’s ideas. Despite this, Atkinson’s extremely poor scholarship is easily noticed and subsequent documentary evidence has confirmed both the details of Leguat’s voyage and of his observations, including those of the solitaire. Atkinson’s work was criticized by Vivielle (1926), Dehérain (1928), Mortensen (1932), Van Eeghen (1949), Kroeskamp (1952), and Hachisuka (1953). Furthermore, Atkinson’s ideas have since been thoroughly refuted by North-Coombes (1979). Danish scholar Theodor Mortensen surmised that the account of the solitaire – regarding the “marriage” of the young birds, for example – was at least partly fictitious (Mortensen 1933). Helms (1930) thought that Leguat had never existed, and that the solitaire was a “chimera” and completely fictitious. Stresemann (1923) and Lambrecht (see Ottow 1950) also thought Leguat’s work to be fiction. Swaen considered Leguat’s work mostly, if not wholly, fictitious. He thought that Misson had written the book and was partly inspired by the De Brys’ plate of the Dutch on Mauritius. He stated, Paul Benelle may have been connected with Du Quesne’s plans and may have visited the Mascarenes and his narrative of his experiences may have formed the nucleus of the Voyage et Avantures. Perhaps Benelle could not or would not draw up a written account but had no objections to Misson putting them to good use. He hated publicity, for his name is never printed in full. Misson did not wish to have the book stand to his name and consequently required a man of straw. (1940, 44)

Swaen considered the plate of the solitaire of the Dutch edition, although on a smaller scale, to show better and more distinct details than the French one. From this, and the fact that the Dutch plate is signed, he considered the French one was “most decidedly not original.” In addition,

62

The Dodo and the Solitaire

the frontispiece of the French edition has been cropped to reduce its size and, again, shows less detail than the Dutch one (1940, 36). However, as the map of Rodrigues in the Dutch edition bears the label “Mer de Madagascar,” Swaen concluded that this was a copy of the French plate. We will probably never fully know the extent of Misson’s contribution to Leguat’s work. However, Leguat’s observations on Pezophaps are most likely accurate and many have since been confirmed. There can be no doubt that Leguat’s account and observations are truthful. Sometime around 1703 a ship collecting tortoises on Rodrigues was set upon by pirates and some of the crew were left on the island. Two of these remained marooned there, but managed to reach Mauritius three years later. They eventually got to Réunion, where they told their account to one Thomas le Gait (or Le Guay; Ile Diego-Rodrigues, MS Dépôt des Fortifications des Colonies (Paris) – Côte d’Afrique, No.187, n.d. [see NorthCoombes 1979]).

In 1874 a handwritten document was discovered by François Joachim John Rouillard, magistrate of Mauritius, in the archives of the Ministère de la Marine, Paris. He reported it to Edward Newton and sent a transcript to Alfred Newton, the latter presenting extracts of it at the January 15, 1875, meeting of the ZSL. Alfred requested Alphonse Milne-Edwards to investigate further to ascertain its date. The manuscript, known as the “Relation de lÎe Rodrigue,” had been mistakenly bound in tome 12 of the “Correspondance de l’île de France, année 1760,” and in an inventory (tome 1) it was listed between documents dated 1729 to 1730/31. The manuscript itself is no. 1 of file (carton) 29. Milne-Edwards thus assumed that the document had been written, or at least communicated to the Compagnie des Indes d’Ostende, after 1730. The document is anonymous, but was probably written by Julien Tafforet (North-Coombes 1971). He was first mate on the ship La Ressource on an expedition, sent by the Conseil Supérieur de l’Île Bourbon, to claim and explore Rodrigues for France; the ship arrived there in October 1725 (Dupon 1969; North-Coombes 1979). Tafforet and four others became marooned on Rodrigues for nine months, and were eventually removed from the island in June 1726. The MS was probably written in 1726 (North-Coombes 1971).

Tafforet’s Account

the land birds The solitaire is large bird which weighs approximately forty to fifty pound, they have an extremely large head with a manner of headband/frontlet to the face that one would say is black velvet, their feathers are neither feather nor hair; they are of a white gray the top of the back a little black, walking with pride; and very often one by one or two and two, they adjust their feathers or hair with their beak and are held of great neat [i.e., keep themselves very clean]; they have their leg completed [i.e., furnished] with extremely hard scale and run with speed mainly within [i.e., among] the rocks where a man however agile that he can be has much difficulty to catch them; they have an extremely short beak of the largeness [i.e., length] of almost an inch [27 mm9] which is cutting [i.e., sharp], one does not seek, however, to harass [them], they could bite; they have small a stump [sicot] of a wing which has [something] like [the] manner of a musket ball at the end and that is used by them as defense; they do not fly, not having a feather on

Written Accounts of the Rodrigues Solitaire

63

their wings, but fight with, and make a great noise with, their wings when they are in anger, and the noise much approaches that of thunder which one has little difficulty to hear; they do not lay, so I believe, but once a year and only lay but one egg, not that I saw their eggs, because I could not discover where they lay, but I have only seen one small one with them and when somebody ventured to approach them they would bite quite hard; they have a gizzard larger than a fist and what is surprising it is that one finds a stone inside them of the size of a hen’s egg made as a little flat oval, though this animal can swallow [something] only as large as a small cherry; I ate some: they are of rather good taste. This bird lives on seed and the leaves of the trees that they collect at the ground. (North-Coombes 1979, 229–230)10

It is known that the captain of La Ressource had a copy of Leguat’s work, but it is not known whether Tafforet had it on Rodrigues; he apparently saw it on his return to Réunion and may have used it for the final draft of his Relation (North-Coombes 1979). Jonchée 1729

Jacques-Thomas de Jonchée, écuyer de la Goleterie, listed the solitaire among the birds of Mauritius in 1729 in his “Mémoire envoyé à la Compagnie, le 19 avril 1729, par M. Jonchée de la Goleterie pour bien établir l’Ile de France, son gouvernement et un conseil supérieur” (MS copy in Doyen Collection, Mauritius Institute). He was a captain in the Compagnie des Indes and visited Mauritius in the period 1722–1735. He mentioned, There are birds which one names solitaires, flamingos, parrots, turtledoves, wood pigeons, blackbirds, and bats, from which an excellent fat is drawn. (Pineo 1993, 288)

He probably saw captive solitaires from Rodrigues, likely imported with the tortoises (Cheke and Hume 2008).

Gennes de la Chancelière 1733

Gennes de la Chancelière, also a captain of the Compagnie des Indes, wrote his “Observations sur les îles Rodrigue et de France, en Mars 1735.” His ship, the Comte de Toulouse, visited Rodrigues in 1733, on the way to Mauritius, anchoring offshore. Boats were sent into a small harbor at the end of which they found “the enfoncement of François le Gac [Leguat]” (Cheke and Hume 2008). Gennes described how his men went ashore and returned with game: Our people [are] said to have seen kids and a great quantity of birds of various species; they brought, among others, two of them, which were larger by a third than the stoutest turkey; they appeared, nevertheless, quite young, still with down on the neck and the head; they had the wings only little covered with feathers, without having the tail formed. Three sailors said to me to have seen two others of them, of the same species, as stout as the largest ostrich. The small ones that one brought had the head made nearly like this last animal, but their feet were similar to those of turkeys, unlike that of the ostrich, which is forked and split in the shape of foot of a hind. These two birds, when they were skinned, had an inch of fat on the body; one made a pie out of them, which was found so tough that one could not enjoy it. It is not the same of the tortoise, whose flesh is delicate. (Gennes de la Chancelière 1933, 204–205)

Billiard’s mention of the solitaire, commonly assigned to Pezophaps, is discussed under the Réunion solitaire (see chapter 4). 64

The Dodo and the Solitaire

In a speech made before Stanislas I at the meeting of the Société Royale des Sciences, et Belles-Lettres de Nancy on the March 26, 1751, Pierre-André d’Heguerty reported things he observed on a voyage to Réunion under his command. In it he described Rodrigues and its natural history:

D’Heguerty 1754

One finds there also birds of various types which one often takes after chase, & among others the Solitaires which almost do not have plumes on the wings; this bird [is] larger than a swan, with a sad countenance; tamed [probably meaning ‘imprisoned’], one always sees it walking in the same line as long as it has space, & retrogressing in the same way without deviating. When one makes the opening of it, one usually finds there the Bézoards which one does value, & which are useful in medicine. (1754, 79)

His description of a captive bird is sadly reminiscent of animals kept in poor conditions in zoos today. D’Heguerty was writing of his time in Réunion (1735–1746) and Cheke (1987; Cheke and Hume 2008) thought that d’Heguerty probably saw captive Rodrigues solitaires on Réunion, or possibly on Mauritius, but likely did not visit Rodrigues.

Jean-François Charpentier de Cossigny wrote in a letter to René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur dated March 24, 1755,

Cossigny 1755

It has been 18 months that I fruitlessly try to get a Solitaire from the isle Rodrigue where we have a small station to collect the land tortoises that our corvettes seek. Those who command these corvettes are well disposed to oblige me, just as the sergeant who is detached on this isle. I promised all that one would like, either in brandy, or piastres [money], to whom that would bring to me at least one alive from there. It is claimed that our cats, which made themselves wild in this little isle, destroyed this species of bird that has only stubs for wings, but I strongly believe that these cats are people of this station who ate all of them that they found, because they are very good. Lastly, one [person] maintains me in the hope of obtaining one of them, which, [this] one says, has been seen.11

It is of note that the solitaire was rare by this time, but was still occasionally seen.

The French astronomer Abbé Alexandre-Guy Pingré visited Rodrigues in 1761 as part of the expedition to observe the Transit of Venus, which occurred on June 6. He arrived on Rodrigues on May 28, and apparently set up his observatory in the same location as Leguat’s habitation, the “Enfoncement de François Leguat.” In his “Essay on the natural history of island Rodrigues” he made observations on the fauna and flora of the island. He had read Leguat’s account and was interested in finding some solitaires. Unfortunately, he found that:

Sic itur ad astra: The Visit of Alexandre-Guy Pingré

The Solitaires were common to Rodrigues at the time of Francois Leguat: Mr. de Puvigné assured me that the race was not yet destroyed; but they were withdrawn into the most inaccessible places of the island. I heard talk neither of rails [gelinottes], neither of bitterns [i.e., night herons], neither of waders [allouettes], nor of snipes; it is possible there were in the time of Fr. Leguat; but either they were withdrawn far from the dwellings, or more probably the race does not remain about any more, since one released populated cats in this island with cats. (MS 1804, 203–204) Written Accounts of the Rodrigues Solitaire

65

In the Seventh Part, Document Annexe, “Draft of a compilation intended for the edition Voyage to the island Rodrigues for observing the passage of Venus in front of the disc of the sun,” he says, “It is claimed that there are still some [solitaires] in Rodrigues” (Hoarau and Janiçon 1992). At an unknown date Pingré extracted and rewrote the text, which he intended to publish but never did. This work is attached at the end of the MS (Maryse Viviand, pers. comm., June 7, 2007). “Mr. de Puvigné” (Vincent François Martenne de Puvigné) was commander of the island. Pingré’s assistant, Denis Thuillier, had been given an allowance by Buffon to collect examples of the fauna and flora of the island (Cheke 2004b); unfortunately, no solitaires were obtained. Pingré and Thuillier sailed around the coast of the island and also traversed the northern part of the island several times in order to make a chart. They left Rodrigues on September 8, 1761 (North-Coombes 1979). Despite stating that Leguat’s “work passes for a fabric of fables,” Pingré found much less fiction than he expected, as corroborated by his investigation into the solitaire’s presence. He may have had a copy of Leguat’s work (Amsterdam 1708), which he mentioned, with him on Rodrigues among his books (North-Coombes 1979). He apparently drafted his account on site, as he refers to his “other journal” in his MS (North-Coombes 1979). In 1776, to commemorate the expedition, the French astronomer Pierre Charles Le Monnier, a friend of Pingré’s, decided to place the solitaire

2.5.  The constellation solitarius (Bode 1801).

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The Dodo and the Solitaire

2.6.  Illustration from Guéneau de Montbeillard (1801, 40:pl. xxxiii: “Barraband del.” “J B Racine S”).

among the constellations of the stars (fig. 2.5). He used 22 stars in the region of Libra, Hydra and Scorpio. Unfortunately, he inadvertently used the wrong image and as such the solitary thrush, “Le Solitaire des Philippines” (Monticola solitarius) figured by Brisson (1760, vol. 2, pl. 28, fig. 1), was used instead of Leguat’s figure (Strickland 1848; Brisson’s work did not contain an image of the Rodrigues solitaire at the time). Le Monnier wrote, I observed most of these stars in my two mural quadrants, & the figure of the constellation of the Solitaire (bird of the Indies & Philippines) was preferred in memory of the voyage to the island Rodrigues, having been furnished to me by Messrs. Pingré and Brisson; see volume II of the Ornithologie: this constellation will be close to the Raven & Hydra on our celestial planispheres & spheres. (1779, 562)

Written Accounts of the Rodrigues Solitaire

67

Later, an owl was depicted for the constellation, although after 1825 the “idea seems to have fallen into disuse.” The solitaire, “then, has the unique claim among extinct birds of being an astronomical object” (Fuller 2002, 164). In 1831 Mr. Gorry, a resident of Rodrigues who had lived there for 40 years, maintained that he had never seen a bird as large as those indicated by the bones of the solitaire recently found (see chapter 5). The bird had passed from living memory. The Rodrigues solitaire was reconstructed pictorially by Guéneau de Montbeillard (1801), Schlegel (1854a, 1854b), Rothschild (1907, pl. 23), and Hachisuka (1953, pl. 12). Oudemans (1917b) considered that Guéneau de Montbeillard’s solitaire might have been made after an unknown original, although this is almost certainly not the case. Rothschild’s reconstruction of a female solitaire, by Frederick William Frohawk, is rather inaccurate; it shows a large frontal excrescence of the forehead, much larger than that shown by Leguat, no naked facial skin, and no white elevations on the crop.

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The Dodo and the Solitaire

Contemporary Illustrations

When Kitchener (1990) arranged the contemporary dodo images in chronological order he detected a trend: earlier illustrations represented thinner birds than later ones. From this he suggested that imported specimens were confined and fed on unsuitable foods. He later (1993b) suggested that “thin” dodos had been illustrated by artists who had visited Mauritius and “fat” ones by artists who had seen only imported birds. However, suggestions (such as those in Van Wissen 1995) that the dodos illustrated by Van der Venne, Roelandt Savery and De Hondecoeter were live birds (cf. Livezey 1993), and that their posture and fatness were due to being kept in a small container and overfed for months are untenable. As Fuller noted, animals “taken directly from the wild are not prone to artificial fattening” (2002, 104). Fuller thought that most of the contemporary paintings could have been made from living birds, but were more likely to be from stuffed specimens. Den Hengst (2003) considered that the illustrations of Savery, De Hondecoeter and Van der Venne originated from a single stuffed specimen. As will be seen, most contemporary illustrations were depicted from stuffed specimens (see chapter 5 for further details). Fuller (2002) considered all “original” dodo illustrations to have been made prior to 1638. Den Hengst (2003) stated that the images of Savery, De Hondecoeter, and Van der Venne were all based on sketches made by Savery in Prague. This, however, cannot be the case; Savery was not in Prague in 1626 (or later), when the Amsterdam dodo arrived (see chapter 5). The majority of contemporary dodo illustrations can be divided into three main groups:

3 Introduction

1. Those derived from Savery-Crocker (Savery-Reims, Savery-ZSL, Savery-Christie’s, Savery-Stuttgart, De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland); 2. Those similar to Van-der-Venne, and thus derived from the 1626 Amsterdam dodo (Van-der-Venne, De-HondecoeterMüllenmeister, De-Hondecoeter-Stumpf, Nieuhof); and 3. Those similar to Savery-Berlin (upright, similar posture, facing left, hanging wing [Savery-Berlin, Savery-Mauritshuis, Savery-BM, Savery-Pommersfelden, Savery-OUM]). These were also probably derived from the 1626 Amsterdam dodo. However, these groups are not mutually exclusive and some illustrations show characters belonging to more than one group (such as Savery-Reims and Savery-OUM).

69

3.1.  Outlines of dodos from contemporary illustrations: 1) Het tweede Boeck; 2–6) Gelderland journal; 7) Savery-Kassel; 8) Clusius; 9) Van-Ravesteyn; 10) Brueghel; 11) Savery-Dahlem; 12–14) Savery-Crocker; 15–16) Savery-Christie’s; 17) Savery-Stuttgart; 18) Savery-Reims; 19) Savery-ZSL; 20) Savery-Berlin; 21) Savery-Mauritshuis; 22) De-HondecoeterNorthumberland; 23) Saftleven; 24) Mansu¯r; 25) Savery-BM; 26) Savery-Vienna; 27) Savery-Pommersfelden; 28) Van-der-Venne; 29) De-Hondecoeter-Müllenmeister; 30) Herbert; 31) Van-den-Broecke; 32) Savery-OUM; 33) De-Hondecoeter-Stumpf; 34) Ruthart; 35) Francken; 36) Nieuhof; 37) Christie’s-Dronte.

The following very tentative chronology for dodo images can be created: 1626 (probably February–March): A dodo arrives in Amsterdam. Subsequently dies and is stuffed. Painted by Roelandt Savery (Savery-Berlin [Savery-Berlin shows no nostril or bill ridges, perhaps suggesting that drying-out had not yet had significant effect]). As the specimen ages the bill dries and ridges develop as the skin recedes. 1627: P  ainted by Roelandt Savery (Savery-Mauritshuis). Two of the black-tipped wing coverts become displaced. Painted by Roelandt Savery (Savery-BM), with new features added (e.g., shorter toes, blue spot on lower jaw). c. 1630: Sketched by Van der Venne. 1631(?): Painted by Hans II Savery, either from sketches, from the specimen, or both (Savery-OUM). 1634 o r earlier: Possibly illustrated for Van den Broecke’s account (1634). There has been some confusion concerning the wording “from life” or “naar het leven.” It is probably in the sense of being from observation 70

The Dodo and the Solitaire

(as in “still life”), as opposed to being from imagination or from borrowed sketches of other artists, rather than actually being from a live specimen. For the present work, comparisons between illustrations were made using both the images themselves and same-size scaled outlines (fig. 3.1). Further comparisons were made using a skeletal reconstruction (fig. 6.1). Some of the illustrations have a stout beak, which was found to correspond with the rostrum MAD 6530 better than that used in the skeletal reconstruction (OUM 11605). Those which MAD 6530 fit are those images derived from Savery-Crocker or the 1626 Amsterdam dodo. It should be noted, however, that in many cases it is not possible to ascertain which bones were left and which removed from stuffed specimens; the comparisons are only a guideline. Some illustrations were based on previous ones, and an approximate sequence of illustration can be devised (fig. 3.2). For further information on the contemporary illustrations of the dodo, see “The Dodologist’s Miscellany.” Contemporary Illustrations

71

”Unequalled of the Age”: Mansu¯r’s Dodo Painting (Mansu¯r)

3.2a.  Dodo illustration linkage diagram. Images derived from Het tweede Boeck: a) Anon. 1601a; b) De Bry and De Bry, left; c) De Bry and De Bry, right; d) Florence Codex. Images derived from Clusius: e) Clusius; f) Jonstonus; g) Olearius; h) Walther; i–j) Florence Codex. 72

That there was a dodo living in the menagerie of Sha¯h Jaha¯ngı¯r, in India, is attested by a miniature painting by Mansu¯r (plate 7). The image, Dodo and Other Birds, is contained in an album of Persian and Mughal miniatures in the Institute of Oriental Studies, Russian Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg (E 14 Saint-Petersburg Album “Muraqqa,” fol. 80r). Although the dodo image is unsigned, it is attributed to Mansu¯r for technical and stylistic reasons. The imperial miniature collection had been stolen in the 1730s by the army of Nadir Khan and taken to Persia (Den Hengst 2003). Mirza Mehdi Khan Astarabadi (d. 1759), secretary and court historian to Nadir Shah Afshar, acquired them in 1734 and bound them in an album, extracting and combining similar Moghul and Persian works on one page (Den Hengst 2003). Borders and backgrounds with plants were also added. In the outer frame of the dodo image are the words “Kamtarin Muhammad Baqir” (Most humble Muhammad Baqir). Baqir (fl. 1750s–1760s), a Persian artist, was probably the compiler of the collage and the artist of the tragopan (Den Hengst 2003). The pictures date from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries, mostly from the periods of Jaha¯ngı¯r (1605–1627) and Sha¯h Jaha¯n (1628–1657). The dodo itself is pasted in the middle of the folio. Although the dodo is attributed to Mansu¯r (Das 1973; Verma 1999; Hume 2006), the other birds are not by him (Den Hengst 2003). The dodo was noticed by Aleksander Ivanovich Ivanov (Iwanow) in an exhibition of Indian and Persian miniatures in the Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg, in 1955, and on June 7, 1958, he exhibited photographs of the picture at the Twelfth International Ornithological Congress in Helsinki (Iwanow 1958). The image of the dodo was first published by Iwanow (1958, pl. 7). The Dodo and the Solitaire

The other birds depicted in the collage are the painted sandgrouse (Pterocles indicus [Stresemann 1958; contra Verma 1999]), male western tragopan (Tragopan melanocephalus [Stresemann 1958; Den Hengst 2003]), and male blue-crowned hanging parrot (Loriculus galgulus [Stresemann 1958; Den Hengst 2003]).1 The geese are unidentifiable, although Stresemann (1958), followed by Den Hengst (2003), thought they were immature bar-headed geese (Anser indicus). Biswamoy Biswas (see Das 1973), of the Zoological Survey of India, was unable to identify them; they may have been a domestic or hybrid breed. It is possible that some of the birds may have been copied from other studies, as Mughal artists were expert copyists, but the dodo looks to be original. The dodo was painted from a viewpoint looking down slightly at the bird, which would correspond with the difference in height between a dodo and a man (Den Hengst 2003). The painting is almost certainly the most accurate color illustration of the dodo known and was painted from life (cf. Stresemann 1958; Das 1973; Besselink 1995). Of note are the blue mark on lower beak (cf. Clusius 1605; Savery-BM) and the overall coloring (cf. L’Estrange’s description). Kitchener (1993a) postulated that the loss of coloration of the “soft parts” might indicate a breakdown of pigments over time, or that the model was a dead bird. Den Hengst (2003) suggested that the light gray of the legs might have originally been yellow, but that the paint color had changed over time. Comparisons of the other birds in the Contemporary Illustrations

3.2b.  Images derived from Savery-Crocker: a) Savery-Crocker; b) Plinius Secundus 1650. Images derived from Savery-BM: c) Savery-BM; d) George Edwards; e) Charles Collins; f) Shaw and Nodder; g) Blumenbach 1803; h) Bontius; i) Willughby; j) Holme.

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painting with their actual appearance in life indicates some fading of the colors over time, for example, the green (as compared to the color of living Loriculus galgulus). The gray of the feet of the dodo would indeed appear to be altered (the feet of living Loriculus galgulus are a pinkish peach). In another painting by Mansu¯r featuring a turkey (Meleagris gallopavo), dated 1612, the color of the tarsi has also probably changed slightly, from pinkish to grayish. The dodo has no tail but an indication of the feathering at the end of the pubes. The lack of tail was suggested by Stresemann (1958) to be due perhaps to its removal by force. The tarsal scutellation corresponds well with that of the BM foot. Mughal miniaturists painted with squirrel-hair brushes, some of which comprised only a single hair (Den Hengst 2003). They used pigments that could most accurately portray the real color of their animal subjects (Verma 1999). It is said that Jaha¯ngı¯r, who was interested in animals, could recognize the work of his miniaturists from a single brushstroke (Den Hengst 2003). Jaha¯ngı¯r instructed Mansu¯r to paint several animal portraits. On one occasion Jaha¯ngı¯r wrote in his memoirs, the Tu¯zuk-i Jaha¯ngı¯rı¯, “As these animals [bought at Goa in 1612] appeared to me very strange, I both described them and ordered that painters should draw them in the Ja¯hangı¯rna¯ma, so that the amazement that arose from hearing of them might be increased” (quoted in Beveridge 1909, 215). Jaha¯ngı¯r’s memoirs also mention the lorikeet, which was presented to him in 1614, and he ordered pictures to be made of wild tragopans he saw in 1621 (Das 1973). Stresemann (1958) stated that the dodo was painted at the earliest in 1624. This supports the fact that the work was actually a compilation from the originals. There is no mention of the dodo in the Tu¯zuk, despite there being detailed descriptions of other animals. The entries for 1624 to 1627 were not written by Jaha¯ngı¯r himself, and the entries for 1622 to 1624 are “sketchy and lack the details found in earlier parts” (Das 1973, 62–63). This suggests that the dodo was acquired after 1624. Das (1973) suggested that the dodo had been acquired sometime between 1624 and 1627, as “a full-colour picture of the bird of such exceptional quality could never have been prepared unless it was seen by Jahangir and its uniqueness recognized by him” (Das 1973, 63). Despite this, the dodo painting has been dated by some to between c. 1615 (Ziswiler 1996) and c. 1625 (Besselink 1995; Ziswiler 1996; Valledor de Lozoya 2003, 2006; Hume 2006). The dodo was probably a gift (nazar or peshkash [Ali 1968]) – either from an embassy or to encourage trade concessions – from the English or the Dutch, or possibly the Portuguese. It lived in Jaha¯ngı¯r’s menagerie, probably at, or near, his court at Lahore.2 In 1624 Jaha¯ngı¯r had moved court from Agra to Lahore, limiting Dutch access to the Mughal court (Dash 2002). Despite this, it has been stated that Jaha¯ngı¯r had a menagerie at Surat (e.g., Ziswiler 1996; Fuller 2002; Grihault 2005b; Valledor de Lozoya 2006), or that Mansu¯r painted it there (Kallio 2005); there is no evidence of this. There is also no evidence that it was one of the birds seen by Peter Mundy (as stated by Mlíkovský (2004) among others; see chapter 1); indeed it is very improbable, unless we consider that Mansu¯r’s bird did not belong to Jaha¯ngı¯r but to his successor, Sha¯h Jaha¯n.

3.3. Mansu¯r’s dodo combined with the outline skeleton.

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3.4.  Genealogy of the Savery family.

By far the greatest number of dodo paintings was made by Roelandt Savery (fig. 3.4). Although Savery was not a great painter, and his works were not necessarily focused on accuracy, his pictures are important to dodo-related studies. The model (or models) for Savery’s dodos has long been debated. Suggestions range from a dodo supposedly brought back by Van Neck (Napier 1868), to the Prague dodo (Pinto-Correia 2003; see chapter 5), to supposed specimens in Maurits of Nassau’s menagerie (Jäckel 1868; Jackson 1999), or a bird supposedly living in Vienna (Noll 1889). Furthermore, whether Savery painted a living or stuffed specimen has also been debated. Lüttschwager (1959a) thought that the appearance of Savery’s dodos resulted from long voyages and an unnatural diet in captivity. Erasmus (1908) thought that the menagerie at Prague had provided Savery with information that he used on his return to Holland. He thought that all Savery’s dodo paintings (Berlin, Mauritshuis, Pommersfelden, Vienna) were made in 1626 and 1628 from a bird living in Holland. He discounted the idea that Savery had seen a living specimen in Prague, since none of his earlier pictures show such a bird. Spicer-Durham (1977) and DaCosta Kaufman (1988) thought that Savery had used a live dodo in Rudolf’s menagerie as a model. Pinto-Correia (2003) stated that Savery had based his dodo paintings on the Prague dodo of Rudolf II, either from sketches or from the live bird. In contrast, Den Hengst (2003) stated that Savery had probably never seen a live dodo. Oudemans (1917b) stated that Savery’s dodo paintings were made during the period 1626–1638 in Utrecht, or elsewhere in the Netherlands, from six or eight dodos that had been imported to the Netherlands. According to Besselink (1995), most of Savery’s dodo paintings were made after 1626 and probably from sketches he made in Prague. From the form of the signature, Den Hengst (2003) concluded that Savery’s dodo paintings probably dated from 1626 to 1628. Valledor de Lozoya (2006) suggested that none of Savery’s dodos were painted before 1626, and probably depicted the 1626 Amsterdam dodo. The dodos painted by Savery (with the possible exception of SaveryDahlem) were painted after 1613, although he may have painted from sketches previously made in Prague. Whether Savery actually saw a dodo in Prague, or at the menageries at Ebersdorf and Neugebäu, is uncertain (see chapter 5). Savery almost certainly used the stuffed 1626 Amsterdam dodo (see chapter 5) as a model for his work. How often he referred to this specimen is unknown – it might not have been frequently. It is also possible that other specimens provided details. Due to differences between the painted

Contemporary Illustrations

The Dodo’s Portrait Painter: Roelandt Savery

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dodos, Friedmann (1956) suggested that Savery saw the dodo “seldom” or “casually” and was uncertain as to its structure. It is more likely, however, that he combined different sketches to form his works, thus creating differences. Suggestions that he painted from a captive live bird (e.g., Ottow 1949; Silverberg 1967; Kitchener 1993a) are improbable, as can be seen from comparisons of the skeleton with outlines of dodo images. Savery also used images from published natural history works, such as Dürer’s rhinoceros (Mauritshuis and Pommersfelden). Some works (Pommersfelden and Christie’s) also depict shells, perhaps from Rudolf’s collection (cf. De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland). Since no other artist at Prague painted the dodo (with the exception of Van Ravesteyn and Brueghel’s specimen), it might suggest that if Savery did paint dodos in Prague it was at a late period. Given the fashion for nature painting at the time, if a second dodo (other than the Prague dodo) was present in Rudolf’s collection or one of his menageries, it probably would have been painted by other artists. As noticed by Den Hengst (2003), the coloring of Savery’s dodos was made to complement their surroundings. In both Savery-Berlin and SaveryMauritshuis the dodo is dark and blends in with its dark surroundings. In contrast, Hume and Cheke thought that Savery changed the color of his dodos “from white to grey, and the wing from yellow to whitish, presumably as a result of information on the bird’s normal appearance gleaned from travellers after he revisited Holland in 1612–1613 and/or after he returned there in 1616” (2004, 66). Cheke and Hume (2008) added that Savery used the same posture and appearance for his dodos until he saw live bird(s) in 1626. Again, this is unlikely. Den Hengst (2003) attributed differences in Savery’s dodos to his use of imagination to supplement information from sketches, and it is here tentatively assumed that differences are due in part to the aging of the 1626 specimen and in part to licentia pictoria. Savery used the same animals in several paintings and there is no reason to think the dodo was any different. The 1621 inventory of the Prague collections lists several Savery paintings, including no. “1082. Orpheus with the wild animals in a landscape” (Zimmermann 1905, xliii). Several of Savery’s paintings, including SaveryBerlin, once belonged to Amalia van Solms (Valledor de Lozoya 2003). Hendrix (1997) noted that Savery may have had an association with the Museum Kaisers Rudolf II (see chapter 5), because his works feature bird species that were also present in the Museum, and might even have provided some folios for it. Owen stated that the similarity of the dodos in Savery-Mauritshuis, Savery-BM and Savery-OUM, together with the similarity of the tarsal scutellation in the paintings to the BM foot “removed all doubt . . . of the fidelity of the paintings” (1879, 24). This may have been a factor in his choosing the Savery-BM dodo as reference for his reconstruction of the skeleton (fig. 3.8). Hume (2006) remarked that many of Savery’s dodos had the same pose and appearance, and that this was an indication of the dodo’s appearance in life. However, since most, if not all, of Savery’s dodos were based on stuffed specimens, information on body shape and posture must be regarded with caution.

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Table 3.1 Dodo

Colors of nearby animals and scenic elements that match those of the dodo

Savery-Dahlem

whitish-gray (pale heron, bull, and goat)

Savery-Berlin

brown (reindeer)

Savery-Mauritshuis

yellow of the wing feathers and feet (foliage)

Savery-Reims

blue-gray (heron)

Savery-Pommersfelden

brown and gray (background), gray (ostrich, camel)

Savery-ZSL

dark gray (pelicans)

Savery-Vienna

blue face (face of heron, sky, and background), brown and gray body (heron)

Savery-BM

blue-gray (parrot)

Savery gave color notations with some of his sketches (although none for the dodo that we know of) and it may be that he made several sketches of different dodo(s) and later combined these to form his paintings. He may have combined sketches of different specimens; although his paintings are relatively accurate, his main aim does not appear to have been to provide a precise record of animals. Savery’s dodo has been treated on the one hand as being the same as all his other animals (that is, depicted with the same accuracy), and on the other hand as a personal symbol. It is possible that Savery associated himself with the dodo, or at least had a predilection for it. Indications for this include the fact that portraits show that he was a plump man; the dodo is solitary in most of his paintings (Savery remained unmarried), whereas the other animals are found in pairs; the dodo usually occurs near his signature; and in one work attributed to him (Savery-BM) the dodo is the main subject. In Savery’s paintings the dodo is sometimes depicted next to a heron (as in Dahlem, Reims, and Vienna), and often shown near, or in, water (as in Dahlem, Mauritshuis, Reims, Pommersfelden, and Vienna; perhaps this is because it was painted alongside water birds), sometimes with a lizard nearby (as in Berlin, Mauritshuis, and BM), and often shown at the right-hand side of the piece (as in Dahlem, Berlin, Mauritshuis, Reims, and Christie’s). Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, Berlin (Savery-Dahlem) An unusual white dodo is depicted in the painting Landschaft mit Orpheus und den Tieren (Bock et al. 1996), in the Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister der Staatliche Museen zu Berlin (plate 2; fig. 3.5a). It is currently on display next to Savery-Berlin (Valledor de Lozoya 2003). The painting was acquired by the Gemäldegalerie der Staatliche Museum in 1866 and housed in the “Alten Museum,” Berlin, from 1866 to 1884 and then on loan to the Galerie der Gesellschaft für Bildende Kunst, Emden (Biedermann 1898). It is signed in the lower right corner “roelandt. savery. f 16[11?]” (Valledor de Lozoya 2003; pers. comm., September 3, 2007), although the last two numbers of the date are indistinct (Rainald Grosshans [Arturo Valledor de Lozoya, pers. comm., September 3, 2007]). Erasmus (1908) dated it to after 1620, due to its composition, and the presence of a white horse would suggest a post-1614 date (Arturo Valledor de Lozoya, pers. comm., September 3, 2007).

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3.5.  Savery’s dodos combined with the outline skeleton: a) Savery-Dahlem; b) Savery-Berlin; c) Savery-Mauritshuis; d) Savery-Vienna.

Given the uncertainty over the date, it has been suggested that the painting was made c. 1628, owing to the presence of the dodo and other stylistic elements (Müllenmeister 1988). Hume and Cheke (2004) and Grihault (2005b) stated that it was painted in Prague. There is also a similar Orpheus painting in Frankfurt, dated 1610, but without a dodo (Hume and Cheke 2004). The dodo, around 1 cm in height (Valledor de Lozoya 2003), stands by a body of water, next to a heron (Ardea cinerea) in the lower right-hand corner. Its long cranial feathers are similar to those of Savery-Crocker, whereas its arched back, posture, and body shape are reminiscent of Van-der-Venne. The white color of the dodo is almost certainly due to artistic license taken by Savery (cf. Den Hengst 2003); the heron next to the dodo is also white, as are other animals such as a bull, goat, and horse. In Savery-Pommersfelden there are also whitish or pale gray animals: reindeer, bison, goat, camel, and ostrich. Despite this, Hume and Cheke (2004) thought that the model was an albinistic specimen, perhaps chosen for its color, and that this was the bird listed by Fröschl (1607–1611; see chapter 5; cf. Hume and Prys-Jones 2005; Hume 2006). In 1611 Savery returned to Prague from a visit to the Tyrol and Valledor de Lozoya (2003) suggested that he might have seen a dodo in the menagerie at Bubenec on his return. He also posited that the bird might be same specimen as the 1626 one, and even that the bird changed color with age. However, Savery’s models all appear to have been stuffed; thus, any color changes would have been post mortem. Hume (2006) further suggested that it provided evidence of a dodo imported into Holland in 1611. However, I consider it unlikely due to the following factors: 78

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Savery’s probable use of artistic license in the color of the dodo; the painting of Van Ravesteyn’s dodo and its apparent link with Fröschl’s catalog; and the uncertainty concerning the 1611 date. Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, Berlin (Savery-Berlin) Perhaps the first of a series of Savery’s dodo paintings was Das Paradies, in the Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister der Staatliche Museen zu Berlin (Den Hengst 2003; plate 4; fig. 3.5b). It is signed and dated at the lower right “roelandt ° savery. fe 1626” (Bock et al. 1996). Representatives from the Council of Utrecht had selected the painting “of divers animals from the sea and the land,” which they had seen unfinished in Savery’s studio, for a gift for Frederik Hendrik (1584–1647) and Amalia von Solms (1603–1675). On December 21, 1626, they summoned Savery and Herman van Vollenhoven, Savery’s representative, for a conference (Den Hengst 2003). The painting was finished by the end of the year and Van Vollenhoven had found a buyer for the work. However, it was eventually bought for 700 guilders by the Council (Den Hengst 2003) and was presented to Amalia von Solms in April 1627 (Valledor de Lozoya 2003). Shortly after visiting The Hague in 1845, Strickland went to the Royal Gallery, Berlin, and reported, I was much pleased by finding a picture bearing the name of “Roelandt Savery, 1626,” containing a figure of the Dodo, exactly like the one by the same artist at the Hague. It represents Adam and Eve in Paradise, and is crowded with animals of all kinds most accurately depicted. . . . The figure of the Dodo is in the usual attitude in which that bird is represented, but the beak is less hooked, and more like what we know to be its real form. This then is the third picture by Savery in which the Dodo is represented, and the fourth oil-painting (including the one in the British Museum) taken in all probability from the living bird. (Jardine 1858, ccxxxiv)

The dodo is shown in the lower right-hand corner under a rosebush. At its feet is a stone bearing Savery’s signature and date. The dodo is approximately the same size as that in Savery-Mauritshuis (Strickland 1848). The Savery-Berlin painting is strikingly similar to another, listed by Müllenmeister (1985, no. 94), dated 1601 and signed Roelandt Saverij. There are many elements the same, although the Berlin painting has more animals, including the dodo and the cassowary. It could be speculated that Savery started the Berlin painting, modeling it on the 1601 work, and later added the Amsterdam dodo when he saw it in 1626, maybe as an additional attraction for Hendrik and Solms. Mauritshuis, The Hague (Savery-Mauritshuis) The painting Orpheus betovert de dieren met zijn muziek (plate 5), depicting Orpheus charming the beasts, shows the dodo with a lizard at its feet. In 1632 the work belonged to Stadhouder Frederik Hendrik at The Hague. It was in the Oranienstein Palace, Diez, in 1775 and came to the Mauritshuis by descent to Prince Willem V (Buvelot 2004). The painting clearly bears the date 1627 (Quentin Buvelot, pers. comm., February 29, 2008), although this has been difficult to read in the past, Contemporary Illustrations

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3.6.  Savery-Mauritshuis according to Von Biedermann (1898, 1:fig.1).

leading some authors to ascribe a date of 1626 (e.g., Kurt Erasmus [see Bakker 1983]; Den Hengst 2003), or even 1638 (Hamel 1847b) to the work. The dodo measures 10 cm in width by 9 cm in height (Quentin Buvelot, pers. comm., March 20, 2008). It is around 3 inches (7.62 cm) long (Napier 1868) and 5 inches high (Hamel 1846; Brandt 1848a). From the claw of digit IV of the foot to the top of the head is 4.5 inches (Hamel 1848), from the bill curvature to the outermost tail feathers is 4 inches (Hamel 1848). Richard Owen, in a letter to William Broderip, mentioned that he had seen the painting in the Royal Gallery at The Hague: Whilst at the Hague . . . in the summer of 1838 . . . Understanding that the celebrated menagerie of Prince Maurice had afforded living models to those artists [Savery and Breughel], I sat down one day before Savery’s Orpheus and the Beasts, to make a list of the species which the picture sufficiently envinced that the artist had the opportunity to study alive. Judge of my surprise and pleasure in detecting in a dark corner of the picture (which is badly hung between two windows [of the Royal Gallery]) the Dodo, beautifully finished, showing for example, though but three inches [7.62 cm] long, the auricular circle of feathers, the scutation of the tarsi, and the loose structure of the caudal plumes. (quoted in Broderip 1842, 143)

The painting was also examined by Strickland in 1845: “This figure, which is about three inches [7.62 cm] high, is in precisely the same attitude as the large painting by John Savery of the Dodo at Oxford, and no doubt has been taken from the same original design. All the other animals in the 80

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picture are very correctly designed, without any tendency to exaggeration, and there is therefore no doubt that the artist intended to represent the bird correctly” (Jardine 1858, ccxxix). Biedermann (1898, Tafel I, fig.1; see fig. 3.6) gave a reproduction of this dodo showing its tongue hanging out. In fact, the “tongue” is actually a pale band on the lower mandible (pers. obs.). Musée des Beaux-Arts, Reims (Savery-Reims) In the Musée des Beaux-Arts, Reims is the painting Noé remerciant Dieu d’avoir sauvé la création (plate 3). The animals are in pairs except for the dodo, which stares at its reflection. The dodo itself is based on the right Savery-Crocker bird. It is undated, but has been suggested to date from the early 1620s (Cariel 2002) or c. 1625 (Foucart 1986; Müllenmeister 1988, 1991). It was formerly in the collection of Patrick Lefebvre and was acquired in 1984 by the town of Reims, with the assistance of the Fonds Régional d’Acquisition pour les Musées, through the intermediary André Hollande (Foucart 1985). The dodo measures 7 cm in height and 9 cm in length (beak to tail; Marie Hélène Montout-Richard, pers. comm., January 2, 2008). Graf von Schönborn, Pommersfelden (Savery-Pommersfelden) A very small dodo is represented in Savery’s Landscape with Orpheus, at the Bildergalerie of the Graf von Schönborn, Pommersfelden (plate 8). The dodo was first noticed by Jäckel (1868; see fig. 3.7), who noted that at the time the picture was for sale and that gallery supervisor Karl Wollenweber at Pommersfelden replied to inquiries for information.

3.7.  Engraving of Savery-Pommersfelden from Jäckel (1868, 36). Contemporary Illustrations

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The dodo is shown in the background of the middle field, standing in water (thus its feet are not visible). It is small and not very detailed, being only approximately 2.5 × 2.5 cm (Dorothee Feldmann, pers. comm., September 15, 2008); it is 11 lines (24.8 mm) tall measured from the water surface, and 8 lines (18.0 mm) in height up to the rear/back [Jäckel 1868, Paris measure]). Jäckel (1868) described the dodo as having a dirty olive-green bill – the ridge and the folds of which are black – and the wings having five grayish-yellow primary feathers (Schwungfedern). The painting is undated (Rothschild 1907), but has been dated to before 1615 (Müllenmeister 1988), around 1625 (Ziswiler 1996), before 1626 (Hume and Cheke 2004), 1626 (Fuller 2002), and 1628 (Hachisuka 1953; Müllenmeister 1988). Erasmus (1908) dated it to around 1628 due to its similar composition to that of Das Paradies in Vienna (no. 149 of his catalog). Zoological Society of London (Savery-ZSL) Currently hanging in the Reading Room of the library of the ZSL is the painting Landscape with Birds (plate 3). The work is unsigned and undated (Stresemann 1958; Ann Datta, pers. comm., December 17, 2007; contra Broderip 1853a, who stated that it was signed Roland Savery). It has been dated to 1626 (Hachisuka 1953; Fuller 2002; Kallio 2005), c. 1626 (Hume and Cheke 2004), or c. 1629 (ZSL website; although there is no firm evidence to support this). William Broderip was informed of the painting by a friend who had seen it at a dealer’s and had recognized it as a Savery and as including a dodo (Broderip 1853a; this was in 1842 according to Behn 1868). Broderip purchased it and exhibited it at the meeting of the ZSL on March 23, 1852. He later provided a colored reproduction of the dodo (Broderip 1853a, pl. 54). The posture of the dodo is that of the small dodo in the background of Savery-Crocker. The dodo measures 6 cm in height and a maximum of 6.5 cm in width (Ann Datta, pers. comm., December 17, 2007). Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna (Savery-Vienna) A pale gray dodo is found in Landschaft mit Vögeln, in the Kunsthistoriches Museum, Vienna (plate 10). The painting was probably made for Gundaker von Liechtenstein (Sabine Pénot, pers. comm., March 14, 2008). It is recorded in the Schatzkammer, Vienna, in 1773, and in the Paintings Gallery in 1781. In the nineteenth century it was part of the Kais. Gemäldegallerie, Belvedere, Vienna (Strickland 1848; Millies 1868). It was brought to Strickland’s attention by Johann Jacob von Tschudi (Strickland 1848). The painting has a counterpart, a Das Paradies with same measurements, also in the Kunsthistorisches Museum (Marcel 1784; Müllenmeister 1985; no. 149 of Erasmus 1908), although this has no dodo. The dodo measures 5.5 cm in height and approximately 6.5 cm in width (Sabine Pénot, pers. comm., March 28, 2008). Fitzinger (1848) gave the following measurements: back to sole of the toe 1 inch, 9 lines; crest of the bill to the end of the tail 2 inches, 11 lines.

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This dodo was painted while Savery was in Utrecht, presumably from sketches, although some previous authors have thought it made from a living bird (e.g., Strickland 1848). Of note are the large ear opening, the dark-feathered upper tarsi, and the long “snake-like” neck (Hume 2006, 86). Hume (2006) suggested that this long neck was linked to a reduction of the pectoral apparatus, giving it a kiwi-like appearance (see chapter 6); this is unlikely as the image was most probably compiled from sketches of a stuffed specimen and Savery’s imagination. The dodo shows similarities with the left-hand dodo of Savery-Crocker and may be derived, at least in part, from this sketch. The bird to the right of the dodo is a heron, not a solitaire as stated by Silliman (1849). Natural History Museum, London (Savery-BM) Probably the most famous painting of the dodo is that in the Natural History Museum, London, The DoDo (plate 6). The painting bears the inscription “the DoDo & Given by G. Edwards. F.R.S.AD. 1759.” It is unsigned and undated. It has been attributed to Roelandt Savery (e.g., Oudemans 1917b; Fuller 2002), but others have stated that it is probably not his work (e.g., Stresemann 1958). It was ascribed to Roelandt Savery with the date 1627 in the BM’s gift book (Mason 1992) and has been dated to after 1616 (Ziswiler 1996), 1626 (Hachisuka 1953; Fuller 2002), and c. 1626 (Hume 2006). Savery was one of the first painters in Holland to devote almost a whole canvas to one animal (Jackson 1999; cf. Hans II Savery). The width of the body of the dodo is 56 cm; the top of the head to the bottom of its foot is approximately 80 cm (Nicola Gamba, pers. comm., April 18, 2008). The length of the head is 30 cm and the tarsus is 19 cm (Nicola Gamba, pers. comm., May 7, 2008). Thus, the head is slightly larger than that of the largest known dodos (represented by the Prague beak and BM foot). George Edwards stated that the dodo “is about thirty inches [76.2 cm] high: the bill, in its greatest lineal length, is nine inches [22.8 cm]” and that it was life size (1758–1764, pl. 294). According to George Edwards, the picture was drawn [i.e., painted] in Holland from the living bird, brought from St. Maurice’s island in the East Indies, in the early times of the discovery of the Indies by the way of the Cape of Good Hope. It was the property of the late Sir Hans Sloane to the time of his death; and afterwards becoming my property, I deposited it in the British Museum, as a great curiosity. The above history of the picture I had from Sir Hans Sloane, and the late Dr. [Cromwell] Mortimer, Secretary to the Royal Society. (1758–1764, pl. 294)

The painting was presented to the BM by George Edwards in 1759 and was transferred to the Natural History Museum in 1881.3 It is not known how it came into Sloane’s possession. It has been suggested that it might have originally belonged to François Leguat, who had lived in Holland and was a friend of Sloane’s, who might have acquired it as a gift or purchase. The painting has been described as “very dingy” (Masson 1850, 228) and “somewhat blackened by age” (Wood 1927, 727). Hachisuka (1937b) thought that the dodo was originally of similar color to that of Charles Collins (see

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below), especially the pearl gray on the breast and abdomen and the blackish proximal tarsus. Around the dodo are two macaws (Ara spp.), a pair of mallards (Anas platyrhynchos), a wigeon (Anas penelope), two cranes (Grus grus), and a red rail (Aphanapteryx bonasia) seizing a frog (Frauenfeld 1868b; Hachisuka 1937b). Hachisuka stated that there “are full reasons to believe that all the animals have been drawn in actual size” (1953, 140). If the painting indeed depicts a red rail (which is doubted by Cheke and Hume [2008]), then its appearance in a Savery painting from his post-Prague years is unusual; it may have been made from sketches, although the presence of a red rail in the collection that also housed the dodo is also a possibility. Hachisuka (1953) believed that it had been brought to Holland with the dodo. The parrots were probably in the collection of Rudolf II, as they also appear in a painting by Hans I Savery, dated 1601 (Orpheus Charming the Animals).

3.8.  Owen’s attempt to fit the skeleton of the dodo with an outline of Savery-BM (Owen 1867, pl. xv). The “scapular arch is rotated in advance of the ribs in order to show the character of the anterior dorsal vertebræ” (82). Also shown is the skeleton of Didunculus. The original figures were natural size. “From nat on Stone by J Erxleben”; “M & N Hanhart imp.”

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Savery colored his subjects to complement their surroundings and neighboring elements (see above). The colors of the blue-and-yellow macaw complement those of the dodo. However, they are less vibrant than in life, which might suggest color change over time. The model for the painting was probably the stuffed 1626 Amsterdam dodo, although whether the image pre- or postdates other illustrations of this specimen (e.g., Van-der-Venne) is uncertain. Despite this, some authors have followed Edwards in stating that it was painted from life (e.g., Strickland 1848; Hillenius 1967 [see Van Wissen 1995]). Hamel (1846) suggested that this painting was not even made from nature. Den Hengst (2003) suggested that Savery might have referred to Clusius’s illustration for reference: this is unlikely due to differences between the two. This painting differs from Savery’s others in having a more erect neck and a bluish mark on the lower bill (cf. Clusius 1605); this might be due to Savery’s having received new information. It also has a white iris, as in the Mansu¯r painting. Savery-BM was the model for many other dodo illustrations: Piso copied it in his edition of Bontius’s works (1658). George Edwards gave a colored reproduction of the dodo (1758–1764, pl. 294; plate 6), dated “July 14 1757” (printed in reverse due to the printing method). Edwards’s image was later used as the basis for many subsequent dodo illustrations, including those in Shaw and Nodder (1792–1794), Latham (1785), and Carroll (1865, illustrated by Tenniel). Blainville (1835, pl. i) gave an illustration of the head of the dodo based on Savery-BM (plate 17). The identity of the subject was formerly doubted by some, who thought it to have been painted from a specimen composed of the body of an ostrich with the head and legs of other birds attached (Broderip 1837). Owen (1867) used Savery-BM as a reference when reconstructing the dodo skeleton from bones found by Clark. With Owen’s advice, James Erxleben sketched the outline of the Savery-BM dodo and matched the bones to it (fig. 3.8): With a view to testing the tradition recorded by Edwards as to the date and origin of the painting of the Dodo in the British Museum, I took a copy of the outline of the bird and laid upon it outlines of the bones of the Dodo . . . and thus obtained proof that the painting truly represented the natural size and shape of the Didus ineptus, and had no doubt been drawn from the living bird. (Owen and Broderip 1866, 17)

This reinforced the concept of the dodo as a fat, squat bird. However, Owen’s outline does not accurately match that of the dodo in the painting (cf. fig. 3.9). Broderip (1837) gave the first copy of the whole painting (fig. 3.10). There have been several painted facsimiles made of Savery-BM (e.g., fig. 3.11); notable are those by Henrik Grönvold, John Keulemans, and Louisa Günther. A watercolor painting of c. 1736, attributed to Charles Collins by Casey Albert Wood (1927) and formerly in the collection of Taylor White, was sold at Sotheby’s on June 16, 1926, and acquired by the Blacker Library of Zoology, McGill University, Montreal (plate 15). Wood considered that although the picture resembled that of Savery-BM it was actually of a different specimen (Anon. 1927). It was exhibited by Wood at the meeting of the British Ornithologists’ Club on June 8, 1927. Contemporary Illustrations

3.9. Savery-BM combined with the outline skeleton. 85

3.10.  An engraving of Savery-BM (Broderip 1837, 51).

The watercolor, one of 67 pictures painted by Charles Collins and Peter Paillou, was originally made for Taylor White. White collected stuffed birds, which he then had painted, and Wood (1927) thought that the dodo had been painted from a stuffed specimen in the collection between 1730 and 1750. Ottow (1949) thought that it had been copied from Savery-BM with artistic embellishments, perhaps made with reference to a stuffed bird in White’s or the Tradescant collection. The dodo picture is accompanied by notes written, according to Wood, by Thomas Pennant. This particular dodo was considered by Wood (1927) and Hachisuka (1953) to represent

3.11.  A copy of Savery-BM in the museum of Giggleswick School, 1912 (Bell 1912). 86

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a fat female. Despite dissimilarities, it is almost certainly a derivative of Savery-BM. Shirley 1869 Evelyn Ph. Shirley mentioned a painting in his possession: A picture, supposed to be by Roland Savery, is in my possession (having belonged to my family for many generations): it represents Orpheus charming the animal creation by the power of music. The dodo is represented together with other birds and beasts. (1869, 265)

This could represent an already-known painting by Roelandt or another artist, a copy of a painting, or an unknown work.

An illustration of a dodo was found by Hendrik Christian Millies, of the University of Utrecht, in a copy of Clusius’s (1605) work in the library of the Utrechtsche Hoogeschool (Hist. Natur. fo. no. 41; now the Utrecht University Library, call number R fol 41 [rariora]). The image (figs. 3.12 and 3.13), which had apparently been affixed a long time, is pasted opposite page 100 and is

Van der Venne’s Illustration (Van-der-Venne)

3.12.  Van der Venne’s illustration. Contemporary Illustrations

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the work of Adriaen van der Venne. The copy of Clusius’s work containing the dodo illustration was mentioned in the first catalog of the Utrecht Library of 1608. Contrary to Millies (1868), who first brought it to scientific attention, the work is not the copy that formerly belonged to Evert Jacob van Wachendorff (Hans Mulder, pers. comm., July 31, 2008).4 The Latin text accompanying the image reads, “True portrait of this bird Walgh-vogel, (& which by sailors is named Dodaers on account of its ugly [foedam] fat posterior part) such as brought to Amsterdam alive from Mauritius Island. Year M. DC.XXVI. [1626]. Workmanship of Adrian Venne painter.” This does not necessarily imply that the bird was still alive when Van der Venne illustrated it; on the contrary, the picture almost certainly represents a stuffed specimen (see chapter 5). The illustration has been dated to 1626 (Hachisuka 1953; Kitchener 1993a; Fuller 2002), or 1626 or later (Den Hengst 2003). A date of c. 1630 would correspond well with the suggested date for Savery-OUM of 1631. Van der Venne’s dodo measures 8 cm in length (from beak tip to rump feathers: Oudemans 1917b), in a circle 97 mm diameter (Hans Mulder, pers. comm., January 25, 2008). It may have been intended for the illustration to be engraved, as Van der Venne was also a designer who created vignettes for works. It is possible that the 1626 dodo was originally intended for Prince Maurits’s menagerie, but the prince died (in 1625) before the fleet returned. Thus, there was no recipient for the dodo, and perhaps it was exhibited for a while in Amsterdam or The Hague (see chapter 5). It could even be speculated that Van der Venne’s illustration was the original for a pamphlet, such as were made for exotic animals imported into Europe. Hume (2006) stated that Van-der-Venne and Savery-BM were very similar and that one was derived from the other; the probability being the former from the latter, since Savery illustrated more dodos. Similarly, Cheke and Hume (2008) speculated that Van der Venne had made a sketch of a dodo from a Savery or De Hondecoeter painting. However, there is no evidence for this, and it is likely that they were illustrated from the same specimen, rather than one from the other, although the image is very similar to De Hondecoeter’s dodos. Oudemans (1917b) thought it was drawn from a living dodo exhibited in Amsterdam in 1626. Den Hengst (2003) suggested that since the image shows a stuffed bird (cf. Fuller 2002), Van der Venne did not actually visit Amsterdam to see the live specimen. Den Hengst (2003) also suggested that Van der Venne had used De-Hondecoeter-Müllenmeister, and copied the beak and wing from Savery. However, as Van der Venne included written information with his illustration, it is likely that he did not merely copy De Hondecoeter’s painting(s).

3.13.  Van-der-Venne combined with the outline skeleton.

The Collection of the Duke of Northumberland (De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland)

De Hondecoeter’s Dodo Paintings

A painting entitled Perseus and Andromeda, dated 1627, depicts a bowing dodo (plate 9; fig. 3.14). The painting is part of the collection of the duke of Northumberland, at Syon House, Brentford, Middlesex (Broderip 1853b; 88

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Clare Baxter, pers. comm., February 23, 2008) – not Alnwick Castle (as stated by Ziswiler 1996; Fuller 2000, 2002). It bears a monogram and date at the lower right, which was initially identified by William Russell as that of Jan Goeimare and Jean David de Heem (Broderip 1853b). Broderip concluded that the landscape and animals were Goeimare’s and the shells De Heem’s. The attribution of the dodo to Goeimare was unquestioned by subsequent authors (e.g., Newton 1875–1889; Rothschild 1907; Killermann 1915; Oudemans 1917b; Hachisuka 1953; Friedmann 1956; Stresemann 1958), but is now recognized to be that of Gilles de Hondecoeter (Besselink 1995). The dodo measures 100 × 100 mm from the head on the ground to the top of the body (Shirley Guest, pers. comm., March 20, 2008). The painting was brought to the attention of Richard Owen by Algernon Percy, duke of Northumberland. Owen requested that William Broderip report it to the ZSL, and the picture was also sent for the fellows to examine (Broderip 1853b). The dodo is depicted with a smew (Mergus albellus) and goosander (Mergus merganser). The shells were originally identified as Cassis, Conus, Contemporary Illustrations

3.14.  An engraving of De-HondecoeterNorthumberland, with De Hondecoeter’s monogram from the painting (Broderip 1853b, 197).

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Cypraea, Mitra, Mytilus, Nautilus pompilius, Nerita, Ostrea, Pteroceras, Pyrula, Strombus gigas, Triton, and Turbo (Broderip 1853b). These are East and West Indian taxa and are depicted accurately, most probably from specimens. There is also the skull of a canid, and hoopoes and terns dot the background. There is an ostrich with upraised wings, similar to that seen in Savery’s paintings. The dodo itself is painted with reference to the righthand dodo in Savery-Crocker, probably from sketches, rather than any input from specimens. The nostril is overly large and the upper rhamphotheca shows banding, as in the Savery-OUM and Mansu¯r dodos. Friedmann (1956) considered it “a studio invention,” noting that the body is formless and the wings are inaccurate, being similar to those of volant birds but smaller. In contrast, Fuller (2002) thought the dodo lifelike and that De Hondecoeter had seen a living bird. It was considered to have been painted from life from the 1626 Amsterdam dodo by Killermann (1915) and Valledor de Lozoya (2006). Oudemans (1917b) identified it as a male White Dodo for the following reasons: it has transverse bands on upper rhamphotheca, upper rhamphotheca with hanging-down “tooth” or “patch,” its mouth-slit does not extend beyond the eye, the nostril is indistinct, its lower rhamphotheca is without hook, it has facial feathering and distinct forehead band, its first four primaries are directed somewhat downwards, its primaries are small and long, and its tail feathers curled. Renshaw (1938) likewise considered it to be a White Dodo. In fact, it merely appears to be a copy of the right Savery-Crocker dodo. Paradise Landscape with Animals (De-Hondecoeter-Müllenmeister) A similar dodo to that in Van-der-Venne is seen in Paradieslandschaft mit Tieren (plate 10; fig. 3.15). It is signed “G. D. H.” at lower right and was painted by Gilles de Hondecoeter (Müllenmeister 1985; Den Hengst 2003), although Besselink (1995) attributed it to Gijsbert de Hondecoeter. Although undated, it has been suggested to date to 1626 (Den Hengst 2003); Müllenmeister (1985) thought that it could date to 1626–1628, following comparable works and the presence of the dodo. According to Müllenmeister (1985), the layout is typical for De Hondecoeter. It was formerly in Galerie Müllenmeister, Solingen, Germany (Müllenmeister 1985), but was subsequently sold; its current whereabouts are unknown (Den Hengst 2003). Johannes Stumpf’s Collection (De-Hondecoeter-Stumpf) Another De Hondecoeter oil painting, Dodo with waterfowl and moose [sic], depicts the dodo (figs. 3.15 and 3.16). It is by Gilles de Hondecoeter (Fanny Cornuault, pers. comm., October 29, 1996; Den Hengst 2003), but was formerly attributed to Gijsbert de Hondecoeter (Killermann 1915; Oudemans 1917b; Stresemann 1958). It has been dated to 1626 (Oudemans 1917b; Den Hengst 2003), or after 1626 (Ziswiler 1996). The painting was formerly in the collection of Johannes Stumpf (1862–1936) in Berlin (Oudemans 1917b). It was last exhibited in 1925 by Stumpf in Berlin (Den Hengst 2003) and was listed by Hachisuka (1953) as being in the Stumpf collection in 1937. Unfortunately, the current whereabouts of the piece are unknown 90

The Dodo and the Solitaire

3.15.  De Hondecoeter’s dodos combined with the outline skeleton. Left: De-HondecoeterMüllenmeister. Right: De-Hondecoeter-Stumpf.

3.16.  The De-Hondecoeter-Stumpf dodo, now lost. Photographed before 1940. Contemporary Illustrations

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(Fanny Cornuault, pers. comm., October 29, 1996). It is notable that DeHondecoeter-Müllenmeister, De-Hondecoeter-Stumpf, and Van-der-Venne are all very similar – implying copying, referral to the same specimen, or both. De Hondecoeter: Earthly Paradise Gilles de Hondecoeter’s painting The Earthly Paradise, depicting Adam and Eve was sold on March 15, 1926, by Galerie Georges Giroux in Brussels. Its current whereabouts are unknown. The dodo was copied from the righthand bird in Savery-Crocker (Den Hengst 2003). De Hondecoeter: Isle of Man Another painting by Gilles de Hondecoeter, Paradisaical landscape, also depicting a dodo, is currently in a private collection on the Isle of Man (Den Hengst 2003). Another De Hondecoeter painting, featuring a previously unnoticed dodo, was mentioned by Anton Reichenow at the meeting of the Deutsche Ornithologische Gesellschaft on May 6, 1918, as being in a painting auction by Rudolph Lepke of Berlin (Anon. 1918). This may be the same as one of the above or a different picture.

Crocker Art Gallery, Sacramento, California (Savery-Crocker)

Hans II Savery’s Dodo Illustrations

A sketch of three dodos, Dodo Studies, is in the E. B. Crocker Collection of the Crocker Art Museum, Sacramento, California (fig. 3.17). The work is signed “saverÿ,” at the lower left corner, but is undated. It is one of a group of similar drawings. The work was previously attributed to Roelandt Savery, but has been reassigned to Hans II Savery by Spicer (2004) due to stylistic similarities. According to Spicer, no works unequivocally assigned to Roelandt are signed “saverÿ.” Furthermore, Spicer noted that the mere signature “saverÿ” might have been added to obscure whether images were by Hans or Roelandt. In contrast, Den Hengst (2003) considered the handwriting of the signature to be that of Roelandt. Although attributed to Roelandt, the sketch was dated to before 1613, when the artist was in Prague (Spicer 1979; Den Hengst 2003; Pinto-Correia 2003). Spicer (1984) stated that the sketches were made in Holland between 1616 and 1626. Müllenmeister (1985) also indicated an early date for the Crocker sketch. Other suggested dates include 1604–1612 (Den Hengst 2003), between 1610 and 1618 (Pinto-Correia 2003), c. 1616 (Hume 2006), and 1626 (Ziswiler 1996; Fuller 2002). However, the date would need to be reexamined if the sketch is indeed the work of Hans. The similarity of the De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland dodo suggests a pre-1627 date. If the Crocker sketch is attributable to Hans II Savery, then Roelandt must have also used this image as a basis for Savery-Reims. The sketch was formerly in the “Ancienne Collection Rosey,” no. 448 (Eeckhout 1954), and was later purchased in the early 1870s (probably in the 92

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period 1869–1871) by Edwin Bryant Crocker and his wife from Rudolf Weigel of Leipzig during their trip to Europe (Friedmann 1956). In the Crocker collection it was labeled “Exotic Birds” and was in a temporary exhibition in the late 1930s (Friedmann 1956). It was rediscovered in 1950 by John Britton Matthew, a director of the Crocker Gallery, when Savery-Vienna was on tour in the United States (Eeckhout 1954). The Crocker sketch is stylistically similar to others of an elephant and monkey, camel, and eagle. It has been suggested that these were made with reference to the menagerie or collection of Rudolf II (Spicer 1979; Den Hengst 2003) and made in Prague, or at least while in the service of Rudolf. The size of the paper is also the same as that of other sketches, suggesting that they were all pages from the same sketchbook (Den Hengst 2003). Furthermore, the sketch contains still-life elements (shells), which are not apparent in the majority of Roelandt Savery’s dodo paintings. However, these can also be seen in the elephant sketch, in Savery-Christie’s, SaveryStuttgart, and De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland. The dodo exhibits webbed feet (Friedmann 1956; Stresemann 1958; Fuller 2002). This webbing is probably due to the drying out of toe pads on a stuffed specimen.5 The thick lines of the sketch also give an impression of webbing. The “hairnet” of the head represents Savery’s guidelines for spacing out the head feathers; this was not included in his paintings, although Salomon Savery mistakenly included it in his engraving (Den Hengst 2003; see below). The rhamphotheca was probably becoming detached (Den Hengst 2003). No nostrils are apparent, and circumanal feathering can be Contemporary Illustrations

3.17.  The Savery-Crocker dodos.

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seen. Den Hengst (2003) suggested that the stuffed bird might have had ostrich feathers inserted into the tail region, although this is unlikely (see chapter 5). The feathers of the back are ruffled, which Noll (1889) erroneously interpreted as representing a feather crest. The two dodos are sketched from the same perspective – low down, suggesting that there were two specimens, rather than just one that was drawn in a different attitude. The viewpoint suggests that these specimens may have been placed on a table for sketching (cf. Den Hengst 2003). It is interesting to note a comparison with the Pointer’s description (1749) of the Anatomy School dodos: “Dodar-Birds, one of which watches whilst the other stoops down to drink” (see chapter 5). Whether these were the same specimens is not known. In contrast, Grihault (2005b) suggested that the two dodos were probably depicted from a single stuffed specimen. Some authors have considered the dodo(s) to have been painted from live bird(s) (e.g., Eeckhout 1954; Pinto-Correia 2003; Hume and Cheke 2004). Den Hengst (2003) suggested, improbably, that the Crocker sketch was based on the Prague dodo of Fröschl’s inventory (see chapter 5). Whether the Savery-Crocker dodo (or dodos) was the same as the 1626 Amsterdam dodo (as suggested by Ziswiler 1996; Hume and Cheke 2004) is uncertain, although, due to posture and difference of features, I believe that they were probably different specimens. Savery-Crocker was used as the basis for several other dodo illustrations, including Savery-Christie’s, Savery-Stuttgart, De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland, and Salomon Savery’s engraving (see below). Salomon Savery’s Engraving The left dodo from Savery-Crocker was used by Salomon Savery to create an engraving, the earliest known publication of which accompanies Plinius Secundus’s description of 1650 (see chapter 4). This is a mirror image, copied (the original sketch has not been damaged therefore it must have been a copy) onto copper. The engraving shows good detail. Several versions of the engraving were published, some being copies of others (fig. 4.5). In the foreground of Salomon Savery’s engraving is a shell – Struthiolaria nodulosa according to Oudemans (1917b; although the shells are difficult, if not impossible, to identify accurately) – at which Broderip (1853a) thought the dodo was looking as if about to eat. Due to the fact that an early edition of the engraving was used to illustrate Bontekoe’s account of “dodos” on Réunion (see chapter 4), Salomon Savery’s engraving has been stated to represent a Réunion or White Dodo (e.g., Newton 1869; Rothschild 1907; Killermann 1915; Oudemans 1917b; Renshaw 1938). Newton (1869) thought that it was drawn from life at Amsterdam, from the same model as that of Withoos. These are, of course, errors (see chapter 4). Oudemans (1917b) thought that Joost Hartgers had probably commissioned Salomon Savery to make the engraving from the original sketch. Gillis Joosten Saeghman bought the halftones of Gijsbert Sijbes of Leeuwarden and used them for his editions. However, Oudemans (1917b) further stated that it was pure coincidence that Saeghman used the figure of the

94

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White Dodo to illustrate Bontekoe’s description of that bird (see chapter 4). Pinto-Correia (2003), compounding errors, even stated that Salomon Savery’s engraving was by Bontekoe, first published in Van den Broecke’s journal, and probably drawn from life! Oxford University Museum (Savery-OUM) The largest painted dodo is featured in a painting in the Oxford University Museum (plate 11). The painting was given by William Henry Darby, then at Christ Church College, Oxford, to John Kidd (see chapter 5) in 1813, who in turn presented it to the Ashmolean Museum (Oudemans 1917b; see fig. 3.19). Hamel viewed it on his visit to Oxford in 1814 (Hamel 1848). In March 1883, at the Meeting of the Visitors of the Ashmolean Museum, Henry Nottidge Moseley made a request to the Visitors that Savery’s dodo painting be transferred to the University Museum, which was subsequently approved (Ovenell 1986) and it currently hangs in the OUM. It may have been an inspiration for Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (Lewis Carroll), who probably saw it at the Old Ashmolean. It bears the signature “iohannes savrey fe 16[?]1” and is usually dated to 1651 (e.g., Duncan 1836; Strickland 1848; Besselink 1995), but the third digit is not clear. Ronald Earle, who restored it in 1976, remarked that it was more likely to be a 3, making it 1631. Hans II Savery visited London in 1651 and lived there for a time before returning to Holland (Valledor de Lozoya 2003), which may have influenced the dating of the work. The 1631 date would correspond well with the date of Van der Venne’s image. The dodo is represented much larger than life (contra Noll 1889), being 3 feet 10 inches from the toes of the left foot to the top of the head, and 3 feet 8 inches from the curvature of the rhamphotheca (“gnathotheca”) to the outermost tail feathers (Hamel 1848); and approximately 3 feet 6 inches (106.7 cm) high (Strickland 1848). Its large size even suggested to Newton (1865a) that it might represent Didus nazarenus (see chapter 5).

3.18.  A detail of Savery-OUM. Contemporary Illustrations

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3.19.  The Ashmolean Museum, with SaveryOUM on the far wall (Duncan 1836, title page [“W. A. Delamotte del” “D. JEWITT. sc”]).

Although the origins of the painting are unknown, it would make sense if it had been made for the person who owned the stuffed dodo on which it is modeled. The body appears to be disproportionately small (fig. 3.20), and the image may have been made with reference to Roelandt Savery’s sketches, and is therefore perhaps a composite image. The dodo shows head feathers in feather tracts, and two displaced black-tipped wing coverts (cf. Savery-BM). The frog is very similar to those in Roelandt’s paintings. Besselink (1995) thought it unlikely to have been made independently of Roelandt. A Landscape with Dodos and Other Birds (Savery-Stuttgart) Another painting, A Landscape with Dodos and Other Birds (fig. 3.21), was in the possession of Otto Ernst Julius Seyffer (Seiffer, Seyffery; 1823–1890) in Stuttgart in the 1870s (Hartlaub 1877; Friedmann 1956). It was auctioned c. 1891, after Seyffer’s death, and subsequently lost (Biedermann 1898). Thankfully, Theodor von Heuglin made a pencil copy, which was used for the engraving by M. Toller given in Hartlaub (1877, cover, frontispiece; see fig. 3.22). Hartlaub (1877, vi) stated that the image had been “recently discovered” by Von Heuglin (Oudemans [1917c] stated that this was in 1876), and was an original picture of the dodo by “Roland Savry.” Although there is no direct link, the Seyffer painting is thought to be the same as that sold in 1959 by the antique dealer S. Nystad, Lochem (Den Hengst 2003; Hume and Cheke 2004). Unfortunately, its current whereabouts are unknown.6 The picture may have been partly or wholly painted by Hans II Savery (Den Hengst 2003); the painting is merely signed “Savrÿ FE.” The handwriting is not Roelandt’s and Wouter Kloek (see Den Hengst 2003) has suggested that the painting (especially the style of the trees) is, at least in part, by Hans II Savery. However, the writing does not match the signature of the OUM painting (Den Hengst 2003). The dodo itself is a copy of the left Savery-Crocker bird and appears to have webbed feet.

3.20. Savery-OUM combined with the outline skeleton. 96

The Dodo and the Solitaire

3.21. Savery-Stuttgart.

Herons, Duck, Turkey, and Other Birds in Rocky Landscape (Savery-Christie’s) Herons, Duck, Turkey and Other Birds in Rocky Landscape (plate 2; fig. 3.23) also features dodos. Although it was attributed to Roelandt Savery (Anon. 1979), this picture was probably not painted by him (Fanny Cornuault, pers. comm., August 20, 1996), and may be the work, at least in part, of Hans II Savery (Hume and Cheke 2004). The work is signed “savrÿ∙ fe.” The three dodos are copied from those of Savery-Crocker, and an attribution to Hans II Savery would also tie in with a recent attribution of Savery-Crocker to that artist. The painting was described as the “property of a noblewoman” (Anon. 1979). It was auctioned, unframed, at Christie’s, London, on November 30, 1979 (Anon. 1979; Geeraerts 1982; Bakker 1983), lot no. 129 (Bakker 1983; Anon. 1986); it was bought for £12,000 by a private buyer using a suspected pseudonym (Hume and Cheke 2004; Michael Hardy, pers. comm., April 3, Contemporary Illustrations

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3.22.  An engraving of Savery-Stuttgart (Hartlaub 1877, frontispiece).

2008). According to Anon. (1986), at the exhibition “Le Paradis Terrestre,” which took place in the Salle des Marbres in 1982, there were two tableaux and four drawings representing the dodo. One of these was the SaveryChristie’s picture. It was sold again at Salle Leys, Antwerp, on December 19, 1983 (Anon. 1986; Den Hengst 2003); and again at Sotheby’s (London)

3.23.  The Savery-Christie’s dodos.

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on October 30, 1985 (lot no. 71); at Sotheby’s (London) on December 16, 1999 (lot no. 100A); and at Bonhams (London) on July 6, 2005 (lot no. 62).7 Hume and Cheke (2004) considered it likely to be the same work as Waterbirds and a Dodo by a Small Waterfall, listed as missing by Müllenmeister (1988, no. 157), and the same as the lost Seyffer painting (which is not, however, the case; see above). The dodos are shown with other birds in a “Tyrolean” landscape (Anon. 1986), painted predominantly in brown tones (Anon. 1986). The three dodos are painted with reference to Savery-Crocker.

In the collection of the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen, Rotterdam, is an image of the dodo by Cornelis Saftleven: Head of a Dodo and a Hoopoe (Besselink 1995; plate 9). The picture, signed with Saftleven’s monogram (Bakker 1983), depicts the head and neck of a dodo and a hoopoe (Upupa epops). Although undated, the work has been dated to around 1636 (Ziswiler 1996), or c. 1638 (Ziswiler 1996; Hume 2006). The height of the dodo’s head is 11 cm; the height of the drawing itself is 12 cm (Frederik Schmidt Degener [see Oudemans 1917b]). It has been suggested that it was painted from the same bird as that seen by L’Estrange c. 1638 (Grihault 2005b) – this is unlikely (see below). Saftleven’s dodo has also been identified as a “White Dodo” (Oudemans 1917b; Renshaw 1938), or a bird with irregular pigmentation (Ziswiler 1996). However, the pale color of the body is due to it being left in outline, and not an indication of white color. Hume and Cheke (2004, 68) described it as a “rather lively bird,” which may have been painted from life (an indication being the lack of conspicuous nostrils). Fuller thought that it was “almost certainly painted from a living creature” (2002, 23), and that its upright stature gave it a “sprightly impression” (40). Valledor de Lozoya (2006) also thought it was painted from nature. Hume (2006) further suggested that it was probably evidence of a dodo imported into Holland in 1638 (cf. Cheke 2004a; Cheke and Hume 2008). Cheke and Hume (2008, 304) considered the idea of it being a copy “far-fetched,” suggesting that the feathered forehead might be a juvenile character and that the bird might have arrived on the Petten (on Mauritius 1634–1636). These suggestions are very unlikely; the image was almost certainly copied from De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland. Features shared by both include the angle of the head, a small mark on the forehead, the frontal band, bill patterning, the form of the mouth, the form of the posterior margin of the naked face, the long feathers of the forehead, and coloration. Perhaps because the body of the De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland dodo is partly obscured and not detailed, Saftleven had painted only the head.

Saftleven’s Dodo Painting

The published account of the journeys of Pieter van den Broecke is accompanied by a copper engraving depicting a dodo, a red rail (Aphanapteryx bonasia) and a single-horned goat (1634, 137). The artist and engraver of the plate are unknown (Besselink 1995), although other engravings for the 1634 work were made by the artist Adriaen Matham (b. c. 1608), whose name is

Van den Broecke’s Dodo

Contemporary Illustrations

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found on the plates of Mocha and Surat. The work was later reprinted in Begin ende Voortgangh in 1646 (1646, vol. 2, no. xvi, 102), and the copper engraving was also used to accompany Bontekoe’s account, as given by Thevenot (1663; see chapter 4). Van den Broecke visited Mauritius from April 19 to May 23, 1617. From this fact previous authors have supposed that the dodo and the rail were sketched during this visit (e.g., Strickland 1848; Fuller 2002). As such, the image has been dated to 1617 (Rothschild 1907; Kitchener 1993a) or c. 1617 (Hume 2006). Mlíkovský (2004) considered Van den Broecke’s image of the dodo to represent an observation in 1617 of the dodo on Mauritius. In contrast, Hume (2006) thought that it was made several years afterward. Van den Broecke mentioned that he had been sent the goat while in Surat on March 17, 1624 (see chapter 1, and above),8 but made no mention of the dodo or rail, although he does refer to a cassowary.9 As such, four possible scenarios present themselves:

3.24.  Van den Broecke’s dodo, one-horned goat, and red rail (Van den Broecke 1646).

1. There was confusion by Van den Broecke, or his publisher, between the cassowary and the dodo, or at least concerning their names, and it was in fact a dodo that was referenced. 2. The publisher, or the artist, not finding a picture of a cassowary, inserted one of the dodo instead. 3. The bird was indeed a cassowary. 4. Van den Broecke did encounter a dodo, in addition to a cassowary, but failed to mention it. It is probable that the artist of the plate added the dodo and red rail to the illustration. This is further supported by the fact that the dodo is

3.25.  Van-den-Broecke combined with the outline skeleton. 100

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apparently modeled on a stuffed specimen. The dodo has a bulbous head, neck, and body, and no tail. The rhamphotheca appears to have been lost, and the cucullus band on the forehead is distinct. The wing is pointed, with two displaced major coverts (cf. Savery-BM, Savery-OUM), and the primary feathers are symmetrical. There is a tuft marking the distal end of the pubes (cf. Herbert’s illustration). The bird’s bulbous body and two displaced wing coverts are suggestive of the 1626 Amsterdam dodo (cf. Savery-OUM), albeit in poor shape. The dodo, red rail, and goat appear to be in approximately the correct relative proportions. The late date of the engraving (1634) might explain the differences. Alternatively, it could represent a bird brought back from Mauritius or Surat. Den Hengst (2003) thought that it was probably drawn from a stuffed or pickled specimen, probably a chick. Although it is likely modeled on a stuffed specimen, it is probably not a chick – the wing feathers are well developed and the plumage does not appear to be downy. The red rail might have been drawn from the Prague stuffed specimen (see chapter 5), from a bird possibly depicted by Savery (Savery-BM), or from another source. None of the three figures appear to have been copied from previous illustrations. In a painting by Jan van Kessel the Elder is a dodo (plate 14), copied from the illustration of Van den Broecke. It is depicted in part of a triptych entitled Los Animales or Four Corners of the World, now at the Museo del Prado, Madrid, and dated to c. 1655–1660 (Besselink 1995). The dodo is shown in panel 3 (third column, first row; the panel bears the label “160”). The panel also shows the goat and the red rail. The coloring of the subjects is pure fantasy. Van Kessel took his images from engravings (including those of Dürer and Goltzius) and specimens from kunstkammers (Valledor de Lozoya 2006), and the triptych also shows a dodo after Clusius’s engraving (see chapter 4).

Carl Ruthart A late painting to feature the dodo is Odysseus mit seinen in Tiere verwandelten Gefährten bei Circe (Odysseus with his companions transformed into animals by Circe) by Carl Ruthart (fig. 3.26). The picture was formerly in the Königliche Gemäldegalerie at Dresden (Oudemans 1917b), but was unfortunately destroyed by bombing in February 1945 (Valledor de Lozoya 2003). Although the painting is now lost, a monochrome photograph is known, published in the catalog of the lost works of the Dresden Gemäldegalerie composed by Hans Ebert in 1963. The work is signed and dated center right “c rvthart. fe: 1666” (Woermann 1905). The dodo was reproduced by Biedermann (1898, taf. 1, fig. 2), and its outline by Oudemans (1917b, pl. 15, fig. 39; see fig. 3.27). The animals are by Ruthart, and the human figures are by Daniel Ens (Anon. 1833; Anon. 1860) or Johann Spillenberger (Ebert 1963; Marx 2005). The dodo is depicted with a human eye and human ear (Oudemans 1917b) and measures approximately 12.6 cm × 6 cm (pers. obs. from painting dimensions). Directly in front of it sits a pelican. Oudemans (1917b [from Ferdinand Max Anders, Galerie-Inspector of the Königliche Gemäldegalerie at Dresden]) gave the colors of the dodo’s Contemporary Illustrations

Ruthart, Francken, and Van Thulden’s Paintings

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upper and lower rhamphothecae and iris as ochre-yellow, its primaries and tail feathers light yellow; and the whole bird light blue-gray. Oudemans (1917b) counted four rhamphothecal ridges, and thought it displayed the same wavy head feathers seen in Savery-Mauritshuis.

3.26.  Ruthart’s dodo, now lost (from a photograph by F. Bruckmann A. G. München).

Frans Francken An undated painting, Die Erschaffung der Tiere (The creation of the animals), depicting a dodo similar to the one above, is attributed to Frans Francken. It also shows a dodo and a pelican and is also in the Königliche Gemäldegalerie at Dresden (fig. 3.28). The work is currently attributed to Frans III Francken (?) (Marx 2005), but was previously thought to be by Frans II Francken (Oudemans 1917b; Valledor de Lozoya 2006) or an unknown artist (Hachisuka 1953). Rothschild (1907) stated that it was supposed to be by Frans II Francken, but was said to be by a different artist. Valledor de Lozoya (2006) posited that the human figures were attributed to Francken, but the animals and landscape were probably by a student or imitator of Jan Brueghel. As the work was thought to be that of Frans II Francken, who died in 1642, and the dodo

3.27.  Ruthart’s dodo. Left: from Von Biedermann (1898, 1:fig. 2). Right: from Oudemans (1917b, pl. xv, fig. 39).

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and pelican were copied from Ruthart’s painting of 1666 (see above), it was assumed by Oudemans that the latter were added by another hand after Francken’s death, either in, or after, 1666 (1917b, 1918a). The dodo measures only about 16.6 mm in length (Biedermann 1898, pl. 1, fig. 3; see fig. 3.29). Valledor de Lozoya (2006) suggested that both the dodo and the pelican featured in Ruthart’s and Francken’s paintings might have lived in an aviary. This is unlikely: the dodo, at least, is probably based on previous images – perhaps De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland.

Contemporary Illustrations

3.28. Francken’s Die Erschaffung der Tiere.

3.29.  Francken’s dodo. Left: photograph of the painting. Right: copy from Von Biedermann (1898, 1:fig.3).

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Theodorus van Thulden An oil painting, Orpheus Taming the Animals, dated to 1637, was thought by some (e.g., Oudemans 1917b; Hachisuka 1953) to depict a dodo. It was attributed to Theodorus van Thulden (1606–1676 [Oudemans 1917b]), and Hachisuka (in 1937 [see 1953]) stated that it was “in Madrid, but not confirmed since the revolution, 1936.” Hachisuka (1953) thought that the model for the dodo was probably a specimen in Antwerp, where Van Thulden lived. Killermann (1915) mentioned a painting, probably the same work, in the Prado (no. 1776), which showed several animals, including a cat, a squirrel, and the dodo. A painting by Van Thulden and Frans Snyders (1579–1657), still in the Prado, and depicting Orpheus taming the animals (no. P1844) appears to be this same work.10 The picture does not show a dodo, but there are other large birds, including a bustard, heron, and bittern, which might have been mistaken for it. The painting also includes a cat and squirrel, indicating that it was probably the same as that seen by Killermann.

A previously unknown dodo illustration recently came up for auction at Christie’s, South Kensington, London (plate 15). It was labeled as “Dutch

The 2009 Christie’s Dodo Picture (Christie’s-Dronte)

3.30.  Aert Schouman’s dodo, c. 1750. 104

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3.31.  Minaggio’s feather picture of 1618 (Wood 1927, pl. xix).

School, 17th Century”11 and was sold on July 9, 2009 (sale 5979, lot #596). It was suggested to perhaps be an albino specimen and it was stated that the “possibility that the present drawing was also sketched from life, while unlikely, cannot be completely discounted” (Christie’s 2009). However, the image almost certainly depicts a stuffed specimen (for example, the tarsi look dried [pers. obs. from dried pedal specimens]). The image also bears similarities to Aert Schouman’s illustration of the eighteenth century (fig. 3.30).12

A feather picture, created by Dionisio Minaggio, an official at the court of Milan, was identified as representing the dodo by Casey Wood (1927). A photograph of the “dodo” was exhibited by Casey Wood at the meeting of the British Ornithologists’ Club on June 8, 1927 (Anon. 1927; Wood 1927, pl. 19). The work is in the Feather Book (Il bestiario barocco), in the Blacker Library of Zoology, McGill University, Montreal.13 The pictures are composed of feathers, and include portraits of birds and hunting scenes. The feather Contemporary Illustrations

Mistaken Identity: Minaggio’s Feather Picture

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picture supposed by Wood to depict a dodo is entitled The hunting of the dodo (image no. 76; see fig. 3.31). It is not composed of dodo feathers (Wood 1927), but the feathers of ducks, jays, kingfishers, and other European birds, probably from Lombardy (Hachisuka 1953; Den Hengst 2003). The title page is dated 1618 (Anon. 1927; Wood 1927), and reads: “Dionisio Minaggio Giardinero Di Sa Ea Gv. Obnerator del Stato Di Milano. Inventor Et Feccit l’Ano Del 1618” (Dionisio Minaggio, gardener-in-chief to the governor of the State of Milan. Creator and maker in the year 1618). The book was probably commissioned by Don Pedro de Toledo Osorio, the Spanish governor of Milan (January 1616–August 1618), who was interested in exotic birds (MacLean 2006). The book was formerly in the possession of Taylor White and thereafter held in his family (MacLean 2006). It was bought in London in 1923 by Gerhard Lomer, McGill University Librarian, from booksellers P. J. and A. E. Dobell, in whose catalog for June 1923 it was priced at £175 (MacLean 2006). After purchase the plates were individually mounted. Wood (see Hachisuka 1953) later stated that his article contained some misinterpretation. The bird was considered to represent a male Ornithaptera solitaria by Hachisuka (1937a, 1953) and probably made from a living bird brought to Genoa. However, the hunting scene with the “dodo” has no connection with the Mascarenes. Although it depicts a large bird (much taller than a dodo or solitaire), this most likely represents an ostrich (Stresemann 1958) or a bustard, and almost certainly not a dodo or solitaire. Indeed, it bears a good similarity to the ostrich depicted by Belon (1555).

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Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

The first “scientific” description of the dodo appeared in 1605. It was contained in Carolus Clusius’s Exoticorum libri decem (Exotic things in ten books), published by Franciscus II Raphelengius (Frans van Ravelingen) at the Plantin Press at Leiden. The collaboration with Plantin had allowed Clusius to publish the latest discoveries, illustrated with beautiful engravings. From the crews of Dutch ships the aged Clusius received information of new zoological discoveries, much of which went into his Exoticorum. He even financed some in the Dutch trading companies to collect specimens he desired, although usually to little effect (Stresemann 1951). The dodo received from Clusius its first Latin name, “Gallinaceus Gallus peregrinus,” and was placed between the cassowary (“Emeu avis”) and the penguin (“Anser Magellanicus”) in chapter 4 of book 5. After describing the first Dutch voyage to Mauritius by Van Warwijck, Clusius wrote,

4 Clusius’s Account

Meanwhile, while they were abiding on the island, they observed birds of a varied type; among those one very strange, of which [I saw] a rough small figure sketched in the journal containing the whole history of that voyage, which on their return they undertook to portray,[1] which is set forth in this chapter. Moreover, that foreign [peregrina] bird indeed equaled a swan in size or it exceeded it, but its form was very different: since its head was large, covered as if with a membrane resembling a hood; the beak was not flat, but thick and oblong, yellowish color in the part near the head, with the extreme point black, upper part of it bent hooked & curved, actually, on the inferior or on that lying face upwards, a bluish spot occupied the median part between the yellow & black. They said that [this bird] was covered in thin/few & short feathers, & that it lacked wings, but has in their place at least four or five rather long black feathers: the posterior part of the body was very fat & and very thick, in place of a tail there were four or five curled rolled around small feathers of ash color; its legs were rather thick than long, their upper part to the knee was covered in black feathers, the inferior [part] with the feet was of yellowish color; the feet certainly were divided into four toes, the three longer directed anteriorly, the fourth shorter turned posteriorly, all of them furnished with black claws. But after I put together & described as faithfully as I could the history of this bird, I happened to see its leg [crus] cut off as far as the knee, at the house of [apud2] that most illustrious man Petrus Pawius Primary Professor of Medicine in the University of Leiden [Academia Lugduno-Batava], recently brought out of Mauritius Island. It was but not very long, from the knee all the way to the bending of the foot a little more than four inches only; its thickness, however, was great, being almost four inches in circumference, and was covered in thick skin as scales, in the front part wider & yellow, on the back, however, smaller & dusky; besides the upper part of the toes was also furnished with broad single scales, but on the back these were totally callous: the toes were short enough for such a thick leg; for the length of the largest or middle to the claw was not much over two inches, the other two next to it were scarcely an inch, the posterior an inch and a

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half; however, all claws thick, hard, black, less than an inch in length, but that of the posterior toe was longer than the rest, & over an inch. Sailors name this bird in their language Walgh-vogel, that is, nauseating bird, partly because from after long boiling its flesh did not become more tender, but remained hard & difficult to digest (except its breast & stomach, which were ascertained to be no despicable flavor) [and] partly because they could get many turtledoves, which were found to be delicate & more pleasant to the palate; and so no wonder that they despised this bird, & they said that they were able to easily dispense with it. Furthermore, in its stomach certain stones are found, two of which I observed at the house of [apud] of that accomplished man Christian Porret; they were of different forms, one flat & round, the other irregular & angular, an inch in size, which is figured next to the feet of this bird, the latter larger & heavier, and both of ash color; it is probable that they were picked up by this bird on the seashore, and then were devoured, not formed in its stomach. In other respects the same island, where I read it in the journal to be one and twenty [21] degrees distant from the equator towards the South Pole, in which nobody lives, that it is deserted in their opinion, because although some sailors diverse times were sent out to observe, and were three whole days this way, that way, however they did not find anybody, moreover, that opinion was further confirmed by the fact that all the birds were free from care, which were able to be taken by hand & killed with sticks, as they had seen no human before. But granted that the true circumference of this island is only fifteen miles, as is written in the journal; but from another navigation completed a few years after by the Dutch, directed to the Molucca Islands, having as Commander [Praefecto] or Admiral of the fleet Jacob van Neck, his deputy [Legato] or Vice-Admiral N. Garnier, perhaps landing on that island, it has been possible to determine that its circumference is greater. In fact, he gave order to circumnavigate the whole island, & ascertained that it had a circumference of thirty miles or leagues [leucarum], as the same it was reported to me in person in Amsterdam in the year of Christ’s birth one thousand, sixteen hundred and three [1603], the same year in which they returned from the Moluccas and Taprobana. That island the Dutch named Mauritius Island from Prince Maurice, named previously Ilha do Cirne or Cisne by the Portuguese (as I have said before), that is, island of the swans, perhaps in order to commemorate this bird they thought was a swan. (1605, 100–101)

For further details on Pauwius’s dodo foot and Porret’s gastroliths, see chapters 5 and 6, respectively. Clusius stated that he had learned – from information reported to him in Amsterdam, and from information recently obtained from the expedition of Admiral Jacob van Neck and Vice-Admiral “N. Garnier,” which had returned in 1603 – that the circumference of Mauritius was 30 miles. However, Van Neck had not returned from his second voyage by this time (Strickland 1848) and this expedition was most probably that commanded by Van Heemskerk and Vice-Admiral Jean (Jan) Grenier. On the fleet’s return, under Hans Schuurmans, they had circumnavigated Mauritius and estimated its circumference to be 35 miles (Parmentier et al. 2003; see chapter 1). Clusius, as he stated himself, used the journals of Van Neck’s expedition and the abovementioned voyage (Schuurman’s voyage; see chapter 1) as sources for his information, which presumably also included that on the dodo. By the beginning of the seventeenth century Clusius was old and hardly able to walk (Ogilvie 2006); thus, he would have obtained the majority of his information secondhand.3 He did, however, manage to visit the cassowary at the estate of Georg Eberhard von Solms sometime prior to

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its move to Prague in 1601. Although Van Warwick sent Clusius a “Lobus cartilaginous” from Mauritius, via his servant (Clusius 1605), Clusius was unable to meet anyone who had been on the 1598 expedition. Clusius also mentioned that Jacob Cuelener, a merchant on the Amsterdam, part of Schuurmans’s fleet which returned in 1603, brought back some fruit. Pieter Garet also sent Clusius some resin brought back by this fleet. Some details (e.g., being the size of a swan; head with a membrane like a hood; lack of wings, but with a few black feathers in their place [although Clusius says four or five instead or three or four]; four or five curled grayish feathers in place of a tail) are similar to those in previously published accounts, others (presence of a gastrolith) are similar to the known unpublished records, and still others are evidently new. Clusius’s account was accompanied by a woodcut of the dodo, depicted with a gastrolith at its feet (fig. 4.1). Clusius said that he copied the bird from a drawing in Van Neck’s journal (a “rough small figure sketched in the journal containing the whole history of that [Van Neck’s] voyage”). Strickland (1848), followed by Hachisuka (1953), surmised that Clusius had copied his illustration from a published account of Van Neck’s voyage. It may have been copied from the lost first Dutch edition (see chapter 1), or perhaps one of the lost MS journals, such as that of the Amsterdam. The artist of the woodcut is unknown; the archives of the Leiden Plantin Press are missing (Dirk Imhof, pers. comm., November 3, 2011). The wing of Clusius’s dodo shows four primaries and the image shows the feet depicted accurately (albeit with two left feet), displaying a similar number of scutes on the toes as the BM foot. Clusius’s dodo is very similar to Van-Ravesteyn and Savery-Kassel. As Clusius stated that his illustration was copied from a journal, it could be suggested that the bird had been prepared (its sternum and some of its flesh removed) to preserve it on the return voyage, and then illustrated (see chapter 5). Oudemans (1917b), followed by Hachisuka (1953), thought that Clusius’s dodo was covered in down and resembled a molting duck, and that the characteristic cucullus was also lacking. Lüttschwager (1959b) and Staub (1977) thought that the bird was in molt. Hachisuka (1953) also noted the similarity of the beak to that of the dodo of Het tweede Boeck (1601; see chapter 1) and the horizontal wing, both in contrast with the “fat” dodos of Savery and others. Dissanayake (2004) thought Clusius’s description was made from a dead bird – however, there is no evidence for this. Other illustrations in Clusius’s book were taken from earlier works (for example, the penguin, taken from Potgieter 1600, showing the Dutch in the Straits of Magellan), were drawn from specimens, or were from illustrations sent to him. Clusius also saw a cassowary egg at Porret’s house, and he also mentioned that he had purchased a Mauritian fruit bat (Pteropus sp.) at Amsterdam, brought back from the expedition that returned in 1603 (Clusius 1605). Another bat was later collected from Mauritius by Thomas Herbert (see chapter 5). Clusius’s description was referred to by several other authors, such as Fröschl (1607–1611) and Olearius (1666), and was also incorporated into the descriptions of several later authors in their natural history works, some of which are discussed below.

Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

4.1.  Clusius’s dodo (Clusius 1605, 100).

4.2.  Clusius’s dodo combined with the outline skeleton: the head and foot are approximately in proportion, but the body is too short and dorsoventrally narrow. The former could be due to the bird’s standing at an angle to the viewer, but the latter suggests that, if based on a real specimen, the sternum and ribs have been removed (cf. Van-Ravesteyn). 109

Nieremberg 1635 Juan Eusebio Nieremberg, in his Historiæ Natvræ, described the dodo in book 10, chapter 71. The text is mostly copied from Clusius, and the dodo is placed under the heading “De cygno cuculato” (1635, 232). Due to a mistake, this translates as “the cuckoo swan” (“cuculato” instead of “cucullato”).4 Clusius’s figure is also copied. Nieremberg’s book was also published by Plantin; as such, it is likely that the woodcut block was reused. Jonstonus 1650 et seq. Joannes Jonston gave an account of “The hooded swan or the foreign hen of Clusius” (Jonstonus 1660, 142). He provided Clusius’s account and also referred to that of Herbert (see chapter 1). The Dutch edition (1660) was translated from the Latin (1650) by M. Grausius, a medical doctor in Amsterdam. Editions of Jonstonus’s work were published in 1650, 1657, 1660, 1718, 1756, 1768, and 1773. The plates were engraved by Matthäus Merian the Younger (1621–1687) and Kaspar Merian (1627–1686), grandsons of Johann Theodor de Bry (Nissen 1953). Olearius (1666, 1674) also produced a copper-engraved copy of Clusius’s figure (see chapter 5). Horstius 1669 Clusius’s description was also used by Georg Horst (Horstius), in his Gesneri redividi, aucti et emendati (1669).

4.3.  Jonstonus’s copy of Clusius’s figure (Jonstonus 1650, pl. 56). 110

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4.4.  Willughby’s figure (Willughby 1676, pl. xxvii).

Willughby (1676) and Ray (1678) Francis Willughby, in book 2 of his Ornithologiæ libri tres, gave both Clusius’s and Bontius’s accounts almost verbatim. The figure of the dodo (on pl. 27; see fig. 4.4) is a poor mirror-image copy of Bontius’s (1658) figure (Edwards 1758–1764; see below).5 John Ray wrote up Willughby’s notes and collated authorities to produce Willughby’s 1676 Ornithologiæ. He published an English translation of the work, including the plates and a few added comments. At the end of Clusius’s account, following the description of gastroliths, he added his own observation: “And no wonder, for all other birds as well as these swallow stones, to assist them in grinding their meat” (1678, 153). Ray selected the accounts of species to be used in the work, using only those he considered reliable and adding, where he could, comparisons with specimens he had seen himself (Raven 1942). Mrs. Emma Willughby offered to pay for the plates, although Ray stated that he was not pleased with some of the engravers’ work (Raven 1942), which was done by William Faithorne (1616–1691), William Sherwin (1645–c. 1711) and Frederick Hendrick van Hove of The Hague (1628–1698) (Nissen 1953; Jackson 1985). Many of the plates were re-engraved from other works. The Ornithology took sixteen months to complete (Jackson 1985).

Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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Bartolomeo Ambrosini Another author who used Clusius’s account was Bartolomeo Ambrosini. His Paralipomena accuratissma historiæ omnium animalium was published in Bologna in 1642 as an appendix to Ulisse Aldrovandi’s Historia monstrorum. Clusius’s illustration was also used as the basis for several later pictures. Johann Walther A painting of a white dodo after Clusius’s dodo (probably from Nieremberg’s work), aquarelle on vellum by Johann Walther and dated 1657, is in the Albertina Collection, Graphische Sammlung, in Vienna (plate 14). The dodo is 30 cm high and approximately 25 cm wide (Killermann 1915). It is one of a series of bird images Walther made for his Ornithographia, the two volumes of which date from around 1657–1670 (Pinault 1991). The Ornithographia was created following an order of the Austrian Kaiserhauses (Killermann 1915). The dodo image was discovered by Sebastian Killermann in autumn 1912 (Killermann 1915) and was identified by him as a Rodrigues solitaire, and by Oudemans (1917b) as a “White Dodo” brought alive to Europe – the latter being for the following reasons: the mouth slit does not extend very far back; the hook of the upper beak is not developed and has no transverse bands; the lower beak is only slightly bent; the fore-edge of the cucullus does not have the rectangular outline of the common dodo; the primaries are long, lancet shaped, and directed posteriorly; and the tail feathers are more rigid than in the “common” dodo. Oudemans (1917b) further speculated that the gray color might be attributable to the bird’s being past its peak or dirty and the red facial color possibly due to pictorial license. Its description is as follows: nine primaries, six tail feathers similar to those of an ostrich, and legs and feet bearing yellow scutes (Killermann 1915). The picture also shows two cassowaries (Casuarius sp.),6 an imaginatively colored Japanese crane (“Grus Iaponensis”), a bird of paradise (“Hippomanucodiata, seu Manucodiata longa”; Paradisea sp.) and a macaw (Ara sp.). The bird of paradise is inaccurately drawn and colored and the men in the background are similar to those in the brothers De Bry’s plates of America. In the accompanying text, Walther wrote, Cygnus cuculatus, or Gallinaceus, Gallus peregrinus Clusij: This bird is extensively described by Iohan, Eusebio Nierembergio, Soc. J, which is found in the Island Sumatra or Taprobana, as also in S[t]. Mauritij Island, since there they are many, which, when they were seen for the first time by the Dutch, [they] took [them] for a kind of swan, and hence the above-named island was named Swan Island after them; afterwards they were called forest bird [Waldvogel] by the Dutch: Is of body somewhat larger than the swan, its head is very large against [that is, in comparison to] the body, and the same as covered with a cap, the bill is yellowish above, in front [merges] to blackish, large and strong, the whole body is whitish, covered with short and strange feathers, in place of the wing, it has some black longish feathers, almost as in the cassowary standing by here; In its tail it has some few black gray, crinkly feathers, has strong thigh, and scutellated foot; Anno 1624 such [a bird] is brought for the first time into Holland, and shown at Leiden by a particular enthusiast, which [was] depicted from life, thereafter I drew this. (Tietze et al. 1933, 86) 112

The Dodo and the Solitaire

No Dutch ships visited Mauritius between 1617 and 1625, so Walther was probably mistaken concerning the date (Cheke and Hume 2008) and probably meant 1626. Hume and Cheke (2004) considered the illustration to be a mirror image made after that of Van Kessel the Elder (Allegory of America; see below). Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence Another copy of Clusius’s dodo image is the “Dodo of Florence,” a painting of a dodo (fig. 1.10) in the “Officium Beatae Mariae Virginis,” Codex Rari IX, at the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence (Banco Rari 66, vol. 2, fol. 366; see chapter 1). The bird is reddish-white and has a large ostrichlike tail (Killermann 1915), and Oudemans (1917b) thought it very similar to the “Dodo of Vere” (see below). Oudemans (1917b) mistakenly considered the image to be evidence of a live bird brought to Europe – possibly to Genoa – in the seventeenth century; Hachisuka (1953) even suggested that this was in 1634, but gave no supporting evidence. Lüttschwager (1959b) thought it represented a molting bird. A similar dodo is depicted in volume 3, fol. 492 (plate 21). On the same page is also shown a bird improbably identified by Valledor de Lozoya (2002a) as a pink pigeon (Nesoenas mayeri). In all, two dodos are depicted after Clusius’s image and one after the De Bry image (see chapter 1). At least four artists were responsible for the codex illustrations. Jan van Kessel the Elder An oil painting depicting a dodo after Clusius’s illustration was made by Jan van Kessel the Elder. Van Kessel was not an accurate animal painter; he often included mythical animals alongside real ones (Besselink 1995) and frequently copied elements from previous works. As such, Hume and Cheke (2004) were not certain that the bird was in fact a dodo or solitaire. The dodo is depicted in part of a triptych, entitled Los animales, in the Museo del Prado collection, Madrid. The triptych also shows a dodo based on Van den Broecke’s engraving (see chapter 3). In the Allegory of America, now in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich, is another dodo by Van Kessel, copied from Clusius (Besselink 1995). The dodo is on panel number 23, dedicated to “Cusco” (Peru). The other birds are copied from Jan Brueghel or Frans Snyders (Valledor de Lozoya 2006). Oudemans (1917b), followed by Hachisuka (1953), considered it to be made from life – from a supposed bird in Amsterdam or elsewhere (cf. Friedmann 1956). The upper beak is green, the tongue red, the back of the head brown, and the tail blackish (Oudemans 1917b).

Many editions of “Des wijdt-vermaerden Natur-kondigers vijf Boecken” of C. Plinius Secundus7 were published from 1610 onward, but the dodo appears only in the editions of 1650 and later. It is found in the third part (“Of Birds”), between the descriptions of the “Uwara Piang” and “Rabos Forcados”: Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

Plinius Secundus

113

Of the Dod-aersen. On the island Mauritius in the East Indies as well as some other places as in the West Indies one also finds birds as large as swans, that they named Dod-aersen or Dronten, they have large heads, and there on a small skin in the manner of a small cap, they have no wings, then instead of them 3 or 4 black small feathers, and where its tail ought to stand there are 4 or 5 curled small plumes, of grayish color. They have a thick round behind, there from it seems that they have got the name of Dod-aers; in the stomach they commonly have a stone of the size of a fist, this is of brown-gray color, and full of small holes and porous, yet so hard as gray Bentemer stone. The boat’s folk of Iacob van Neck named these disgusting birds [Walg Vogels], because those [birds] could not be cooked well done or soft, or because so many turtledoves could be obtained that tasted nicer, that they had the disgust of these Dod-aersen. From 3 or 4 of these birds already the ship’s folk of a ship had enough to eat for a meal; These Dod-aersen have also been salted and taken on the voyage. (Plinius Secundus 1650, 678–679)

Most of the description is taken from previous works (probably the accounts of Van Warwijck’s and Matelief’s or Van West-Zanen’s voyages), although the suggested derivation of the name dod-aers and details of the gastrolith are also provided: it is as hard as gray Bentemer (grit: Den Hengst 2003) stone. Also to be noted are the words “as in the West Indies” – certainly an erroneous addition! Plinius Secundus’s description is accompanied by a copper engraving of the dodo by Salomon Savery (fig. 4.5, see chapter 3). Although Oudemans (1917b) considered the text to refer to the Mauritius dodo, he thought the figure represented a “White Dodo.”

In Gulielmus Piso’s book of 1658 is found a work by Jacobus Bontius: “Historiæ naturalis et medicæ libri sex.” In book 5, the dodo is described, preceding the description of the cassowary:

Bontius’s Account

Appendix The Dronte, or Dod-aers. Among the East Indian islands is considered that which by others is called Cerne; the name agreed on by those of our country is Mauritius, chiefly famous on account of its black ebony. In this island a bird of wonderful form named Dronte is numerous. Of the size between an ostrich & Indian hen [turkey], from which it partly differs in shape, & partly agrees, especially with the African ostrich, if one considers the rump, feathers, & plumes; so that it appears as if a pygmy among them, if one regards the shortness of the legs. In other respects, the head is very large, deformed, covered by a membrane resembling a cowl. The eye large, black; neck curved, prominent, fat; beak long beyond proportion, strong, of bluish white, except the extremities, of which the lower is black, the upper yellowish, both sharp pointed & hooked. The gape hideous, greatly broad, as if formed for gluttony. Body obese, rotund, clothed in soft gray plumes, in the manner of ostriches; adorned on both sides, in place of quills, with small feathered wings of yellow-ash, & behind the rump, in place of the tail, five wavy feathers, of the same color. Legs are yellow, thick, but very short; four pedal digits are stout, long, scaled, all having strong black claws attached. In other respects the bird is slow going & stupid, and easily taken by hunters. Their flesh, especially the breast, is fat, eatable, and so copious that three or four Drontes were sometimes sufficient to satisfy an hundred comrades. If not well boiled, or are old, they are difficult of digestion, & are salted in provisions put away. Stones of different forms & sizes, ash color, are found in the stomach of these birds; not produced there however, as commoners & sailors believe, but devoured on the shore; as though by this proof these birds agree with the nature of the

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ostrich, because they swallow hard things, yet not digest them. (Bontius 1658, 70–71)8

Piso’s book is an expanded version of a 1648 text, to which Piso added Bontius’s work, along with woodcuts, after the death of the latter. The copperengraved title page shows fauna and flora from the East and West Indies and is based on that of the 1648 work, with Indian Ocean animals added, including the dodo (fig. 4.6), which is only 18 mm in height. It is not known whether it was Bontius or Piso who was the compiler of the text on the dodo (Den Hengst 2003), but it is likely that the latter at least added the illustration of the dodo. On the title page of Bontius’s work, Piso mentions that he has edited it and inserted comments and additions, including images, as necessary. An indication that Piso added the entry on the dodo to Bontius’s work is the fact that it is not found in Bontius’s MS “Jacobi Bontii medici arcis ac civitatis Bataviae Novae in Indiis ordinarii exoticorum Indicorum centuria prima” (Plant Sciences Library, Oxford, MS Sherard 186, dated 1630), which contains many of the species, with illustrations, described in Piso’s volume (Cook 2007).

Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

4.5.  A plethora of dodos from editions of Plinius Secundus’s work. Top: Joost Hartgers (1650); 1650; Abraham and Jan de Wees (c. 1651, 374). Middle: Gijsbert Sijbes (1651, 619); Gerrit van Goedesbergh (1662, 480); Wed. van Michiel de Groot (?1682). Bottom: Wed. Gijsbert de Groot en Anthony van Dam (1724, 480); Isaak van der Putte (1733, 480); Jan Morterre (1757, 480). (From Oudemans 1917b, pls. xvii, xviii; top middle courtesy of Jan den Hengst).

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The woodcut figure accompanying the text (fig. 4.7) is almost certainly drawn after Savery-BM (contra Brandt [1848a], who thought it copied from Savery-OUM). The artist is unknown. Edwards stated that Piso “has two figures of the Dodo taken from this very picture [Savery-BM]” (1758–1764, 180). Despite this, Broderip (1837) thought that there were sufficient differences between Piso’s figure and that of Savery for them to be different portraits of the dodo. The figure was subsequently copied in Thevenot (1663), with the caption, “Dronte; otherwise called by the Dutch Dod-aers – This figure is somewhat differing from that of the voyage of Bontekoe.” The author has apparently used previous descriptions for his account, probably those of Clusius (1605) and Van West-Zanen (1648). It is likely that, in addition to copying the figure, the author used Savery-BM as a source, especially the description of the neck as being curved, prominent and fat, the beak being bluish white with the extremity of the upper yellowish and that of the lower black, and the wings and tail of yellowish ash color. There are some details, however, which do not appear to be derived from the above sources, such as the dodo being slow and stupid, three or four dodos being sufficient for a hundred men (Van West-Zanen’s account does not mention the number of people), and that old birds were difficult of digestion; although these facts could have been guesswork. He also adds that ostriches also swallow stones without digesting them. As an aside, Blainville (1835), estimating the amount of meat sufficient for a sailor at two pounds, noted that 100 men would require 200 pounds of meat, or four dodos at 50 pounds each. However, he pointed out that not all the bird is breast meat, especially in flightless birds, and therefore

4.6.  Title page, with an enlargement of the dodo (Bontius 1658).

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4.7.  Piso’s dodo engraving (Bontius 1658, 70).

Bontius’s statement that three or four dodos are sufficient for 100 men was rather suspect, as indeed it is. Bontius’s account was subsequently used by authors such as Ray (1713).

Johan Nieuhof gave an account of the dodo in his 1682 Gedenkweerdige Brasiliaense zee- en lant-reize. The work, edited by his brother Hendrik Nieuhof, was to be published in six languages. The license, signed by Johan de Wit, was given to Jacob van Meurs of Amsterdam on December 14, 1671 (Van Maanen 1852). Van Meurs spent much in order to include copperengraved plates with the work. The description of the dodo is placed between those of the hornbill (“Jaar Voogel”) and parakeets (“Perkietjes”). The dodo text itself reads thus:

Nieuhof’s Account

Dronte or Dodaers. On the island [of] Mauritius especially, [is] contained [a] certain bird of a marvelous figure, Dronte, and named by us Dodaers. He is of a size between an ostrich and an Indian hen and differs in stature, and partly agrees with them, with respect to the feathers, plumes, and tail. He has a large and misshapen head covered with a skin, and [which] resembles that of a cuckoo [koekoek]. The eyes are large and black; the neck curved, fat, and sticks [out] beyond the rest. The beak is beyond measure long, strong, and bluish white – except the ends, whereof the bottom [is] blackish, and the upper is yellowish, and both pointed and curved. He opens wide the ugly beak and very wide open; [the bird] is round and fat of body, that is covered with soft and gray

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4.8.  Nieuhof’s dodo (Nieuhof 1682, 282).

plumes as those of the ostrich. The belly and arse are thick, that almost hangs on the ground: wherefrom, and because of their lazy pace, this bird was named Dodaers by us. On both sides sit some small plumed feathers, in place of wings, of yellowwhitish, and behind on the rump, in place of the tail, five curled feathers of a similar color. The legs are yellowish and thick, but very short, yet with four fixed and long toes. This bird is slow of pace and stupid, and lets itself be easily caught. The flesh, especially that of the breast, is fat and edible. He is so heavy that 100 men on three or four Dronten have enough to eat. The flesh of the old, if not cooked done, is heavy to digest. It was also salted. They often have a large and hard stone in the stomach that is porous and, however, hard. (Nieuhof 1682, 283)

The text is derived from that of Bontius, with little alteration. However, the author adds that the belly is thick and almost touches the ground (perhaps taken from Bontekoe; see below), relating that this and the slow pace of the dodo was the reason for the name dodaers. Also, the color of the wing and tail feathers changes from yellowish-ash to yellow-whitish. The detail of the gastrolith may be derived from Plinius Secundus (1650). It is also apparent that Nieuhof, or his editor, made a mistake when compiling the description, presumably using “cuculus” (cuckoo) instead of “cucullus” (cowl) and leading to the comparison with that bird. This also corroborates a Latin source for the text (cf. Nieremberg; see above). Nieuhof’s account was translated into English (1703), with the copperplate depicting the dodo also copied. The English translation (1703) differs in some respects from the original: the colors of the beak are transposed so that the uppermost is blackish and the undermost is yellowish; and states that the dodo is “easily catch’d” owing to its belly and hindermost part almost touching the ground.

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The English edition (1703) states that the work is the account of the “Third Sea and Land Voyage of Mr. John Nieuhoff aboard the Arrow to the Isles of Majotte, upon the African-Coast of Mosambique, Extracted from his own Journals, and brought over and deliver’d by Cap. Reiner Klacson to his Brother Henry Nieuhoff.” Oudemans (1917b) thought that Nieuhof must have been on Mauritius around February 1658. Cheke (1987), however, stated that there is no evidence that Nieuhof ever visited Mauritius, but that his description related to a dodo he apparently saw alive, and sketched, in Batavia sometime between 1653 and 1658.9 Cheke unfortunately gave no evidence to support this, and later (2004a) retracted the idea. It seems more likely that Nieuhof, or his editor, merely used Bontius’s description. The copper-engraved figure is similar to that of Van der Venne (see above), showing the same body form and posture, although it differs sufficiently to suggest that it was drawn independently, although perhaps from the same specimen. The title page states that the illustrations in the work are “drawn there from life.”10 Van Wissen (1995) thought, however, that the illustration was not original. The feet of the dodo and other birds are the same, despite the cassowary actually having only three toes. Like the dodo, some of the other animals may have been sketched from stuffed specimens, or more likely drawn after other published images – none of the animals are very accurately depicted. The figure of the dodo, on page 282, bears the caption “Dodaers” (fig. 4.8). The engraving also depicts an eagle with a pig in its talons (a roc?), flying squirrel, cassowary, cockatoo, and hornbill. Von Frauenfeld (1868b) thought that the close agreement between the illustration and the description of the dodo proved that they were from the same source and that the description was from life. Oudemans (1917b) and Hachisuka (1953) thought that the undercurved lower beak was due either to poor representation or to a teratological original.

This work was brought to the attention of Strickland by the Reverend Richard Hooper of St. Stephen’s, Westminster. In it, Holme provides details of armorial devices, including animals and plants. One such armorial is particularly interesting: Holme notes that the family Dronte bore a dodo on their armorial shield (Strickland 1849). Unfortunately, however, Strickland was unable to trace this family. The dodo is featured in the second book of Holme’s work, and a small figure appears on fol. 285 (fig. 19; see fig. 4.10). The text accompanying the figure reads,

4.9.  Nieuhof’s dodo combined with the outline skeleton.

Randle Holme’s The Academy of Armory

XII. He beareth Sable, a Dodo: or Dronte, proper. By the name of Dronte. This Exotic bird, doth equal a Swan in bigness, and is of some Authors termed, Gallus Peregrinus; and Sygnus Cucullatus; a Hooded Swan: yet it is of far different shape For the Head is great, covered (as it were) with a certain Membrane, resembling a Hood. The Bill is thick, and long, yellow next the Head, the point black; the upper Chap is hooked at the end, the lower Chap, had a blew spot, between the yellow and black: it is covered with thin short Feathers, and wants Wings; instead thereof it hath four of five long black Feathers: that the hinder part of the Body is round, flat, and fleshy, wherein for the Tail, were four or five small curled Feathers, twirled up together, of an ash colour. The Legs, thick and short, with long sharp pointed Toes, yellowish; Claws black. Thighs covered with black

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Feathers, the rest of the Body grey. Yet Bontius, lib. 5. chap. 17. in his History of India, describes it to have a great ill favoured Head, covered with a membrane like a Hood; the Bill bluish white, the tips of the upper Mandable black, the lower yellow, the Body is covered with soft grey Feathers; the soft Feathered Wings, of a yellowish ash colour; Legs yellowish, and both them, and the Toes, set with broad scales. (Holme 1688, 289)

The above text has been adapted from the descriptions given by Clusius (1605) and Bontius (1658), and Holme’s appellations for the dodo are derived from Clusius and probably also Nieremberg (1635) or Charleton (1668). There are further mentions of the dodo given later in the text, including this:

4.10.  Holme’s figure of the dodo (from Strickland 1849, 260; traced from the original by Philip Henry Delamotte).

Wings and Feathers therein. Rudiments of Wings, useless Wings, such as cannot fly with them, as in the Pengwin, Dodo, and Cassawary. (306)

Holme stated, “Birds may be distinguished by their usual places of Living, their Food, Bigness, Shape, Use, &c. which by the Reverend Dr. Wilkins are reduced to these eight Classis or Orders” (308). He then provided a classification of birds; the dodo was placed in the first group, “Carnivorous Birds, such as feed on Flesh” (308; see chapter 6). 4. Exotic Birds, such as have Shapes contrary to other Fowles, as Toucan Dodo Emew Rhinocerot Ostritch Lagopus Bird of Paradise Cassaware (309).

Strickland noted that “although Holme takes his description from the works of Clusius and Bontius, yet his figure is copied from neither, but is taken from a third, and wholly independent, source. This seems conclusive as to the actual existence of a family bearing these arms; for had they been Holme’s own invention, he would naturally have copied the figure from one of the two works which furnished him with the description” (1849, 260), but also thought that Holme’s copperplate figure might have been copied, with some alteration, from that accompanying Bontekoe’s account. Strickland (1849, 260) provided a facsimile of the figure, traced and engraved by Philip Henry Delamotte from the copy of the work held in the library of Queen’s College, Oxford. Holme’s figure was undoubtedly copied, as were many of the other illustrations in the work, with minor alterations, from Willughby (1676) and, therefore, must postdate this. Thus, what the original device of the Dronte family actually looked like is unclear. The incorporation of the dodo as a heraldic device by the family of Dronte shows its popularity. In a letter to Hooper, dated March 14, 1850, Strickland writes, “I incline to think that Holme must have taken the arms of Dronte from some continental family, for I cannot hear of any such name among English families, and moreover the word dronte has never been used in this country for the Dodo.”11 Hooper stated that the family of Dronte was probably foreign to Britain, and noted that there were records of a family named Dodo in Friesland12 (including an Augustin Dodo, who died in 1501 [Strickland 1850a]).13 Hooper also suggested that the family might have adopted the dodo into their coat of arms, and that Holme might have mistakenly changed their name to Dronte (1850a). However, there

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are many people recorded as having the surname of Dodo – too many to list here. The following are two examples of mistaken identity concerning the dodo applied to heraldry. Clarence Hopper reported a supposed dodo forming the crest of Nicholas Saumares of 1400 (Hopper 1853). He added that the surname of the Counts de Somery, or Somerie (British Museum Add. MSS 17,455, 2) seems to have been “Dodo.” Burke (1842) stated that the crest of Saumarez was a falcon affrontant, wings extended proper, as it indeed is. One “P. C. S. S.” (1853) reported another supposed dodo, on the seal of John Fineux, on a lease of October 6, 1522. The emblem actually shows an eagle displayed. Whether P. C. S. S. believed it to represent a dodo or whether the article was only half serious is not evident. Of course, neither of these actually represents dodos.

On his 1618–1625 voyage, Willem Ysbrantsz Bontekoe was unable to reach Mauritius (contra Killermann 1915) and landed at Réunion (“Eylant de Maskarinas”) instead, where he spent 21 days in 1619, sometime between May 31 and November 19 (probably in August [Hume and Cheke 2004]), anchoring in St. Paul’s Bay (Staub 1996). On the island, Bontekoe recalled,

Post-traumatic Reminiscences: Bontekoe’s Account

Our people over[ran] most of the whole island through and through . . . the birds and fish they knew; the birds so free to roast, on wooden spits, and [they] took the grease from tortoises and dripped [it] in the roast birds there also, whereby they became so delicate that they were a pleasure to eat. . . . There were also some dod-eersen, that had small wings, but could not fly, [they] were so fat that they hardly could go, because when they ran/walked, they dragged the bottom along the ground. (1646, 6)

The text was repeated in subsequent editions, of which there were 16 during Bontekoe’s own lifetime (Den Hengst 2003); the dodo was mentioned in 5 editions from 1646 to 1650. Oudemans (1917b) noted that by 1800 more than 50 editions of the original edition had appeared. In order to reduce production costs yet make the account more interesting, old illustrations were used, and in 1663 Gillis Joosten Saeghman produced his edition.14 Saeghman had obtained from the Leeuwarden editor Gijsbert Sijbes a series of animal images, which had been used for the latter’s edition of Plinius Secundus (see chapter 3; Bostoen et al. 1996). One of these was Salomon Savery’s dodo engraving (see chapter 3; fig. 4.11). Saeghman’s was the only Dutch edition of Bontekoe to incorporate a figure of the dodo until then. He also changed the title, put the text in two columns, and altered it slightly (Bostoen et al. 1996). Below the woodcut of the dodo is this text: There were also some dod-eersen, that had small wings, but could not fly, [they] were so fat that they hardly could go, because when they ran/walked, they dragged the bottom almost along the ground. (Saeghman 1663, 7)

Bontekoe’s account was also incorporated into the translator Melchisedech Thevenot’s French collection of voyages (1663). He based his edition on that of Saeghman (1663) and also incorporated dodo illustrations, this

Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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4.11.  The dodo from Saeghman’s edition of Bontekoe (Bontekoe 1663).

time from Bontius (1658) and Van den Broecke (1646). Below the description is given a copy (mirror image) of Van den Broecke’s image of the dodo, goat and rail, with this caption above the dodo: “Dronte alias Dod-Aers.” The marginal text reads, “This bird was not described by the old ones [ancients], this is why one puts the figure of it here drawn from another Dutch voyage.” The plate immediately preceding Bontekoe’s account shows Bontius’s dodo figure (mirror image), with the caption “Dronte; otherwise called by the Dutch Dod-aers – This figure is somewhat differing from that of the voyage of Bontekoe.” This indicates that he used Saeghman’s 1663 edition as his source. Another edition of Bontekoe’s voyage (n.d.) even includes a version of the illustration of Mauritius accompanying Van Neck’s account (see chapter 1). After visiting Réunion, Bontekoe’s ship, the Nieuw Hoorn, blew up near Sumatra in 1619.15 He lost all his possessions; as such, his description was written from memory. Bontekoe was away from Holland for seven years, suggesting that his account might not be wholly reliable, although much of it probably is. Furthermore, his account was not published until 1646 and some (e.g., Fuller 2002) have suggested that he did not write down his account before then. Bontekoe’s journal can be divided into the voyage to Batavia (where few dates are mentioned) and the homeward voyage (written like a journal, with many dates). His account of Réunion was evidently written in the logbook, which was lost with the ship and which he reconstructed while in Batavia – that is, at most one or two years afterward (Brial 1998). Bontekoe’s editor, Jan Jansz Deutel, knew of Bontekoe’s MS, which he tried to persuade him to have published (Geyl 1992). Strickland remarked, “[H]aving a recollection of a large brevipennate bird in Bourbon [Réunion], whose tameness rendered it easy prey to his sailors, he [Bontekoe] concluded it to be the Dodo, and adopted the name and descriptions of that bird which had been given by previous navigators” (1848, 58). Staub (1996) similarly thought that Bontekoe had remembered fat birds he had seen on Réunion and attributed the name dod-eersen to them. Den Hengst thought that Bontekoe’s description was perhaps based on previous accounts, or may have been influenced by seeing illustrations by Savery and others, and concluded that Bontekoe’s account of the dodo was no more than “a good yarn” (2003, 101). It is true that Bontekoe made some errors – for example, stating that he

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saw tortoise eggs hatch the same day as they were laid, when they actually take up to 80 days – although Brial (1998) considered the account to be as reliable as any other. No subsequent author specifically mentioned dodos on Réunion. Although previous writers have identified Bontekoe’s description with the so-called white dodo of Réunion (see below), it is here considered that it probably refers to some other Réunion bird (such as an ibis or goose). However, a complete fabrication by Bontekoe or his editor cannot be ruled out. It should be noted that, as Réunion was uninhabited at the time, Bontekoe must have learned the name dod-eersen from elsewhere. Bontekoe’s dod-eersen were considered, along with Salomon Savery’s engraving, to represent Réunion dodos (Newton 1869; Rothschild 1907, 1919; Pitot 1914; Oudemans 1917b; Killermann 1915; Besselink 1995; PintoCorreia 2003). Pitot (1914) also thought that they might represent a Réunion solitaire, but that they were very similar to the Mauritian dodo. Oudemans (1917b) considered the description to represent a fat female “White Dodo.” However, the concept of a Réunion dodo is based on mistaken conclusions (see below). The use of both Bontius’s and Van den Broecke’s dodo figures (the former in a prominent position in a plate immediately preceding Bontekoe’s account) by Thevenot illustrates the fascination with the dodo at the time, especially considering that the account of the dodo given by Bontekoe is only very short.

Surprisingly, the dodo is even mentioned in the 1663 account of the voyage of Joris van Spilbergen to the Moluccas via the Straits of Magellan, also published by Saeghman. In the entry for May 1615, below the engraving of the dodo by Salomon Savery, is a description of the dodo. Although Van Spilbergen did land at Mauritius in January 1617 the account of the dodo is taken entirely from that of Plinius Secundus (see above). Furthermore, the description of the dodo does not accompany the entry for Mauritius, but that for Van Spilbergen’s Bay, at the entrance to the Straits of Magellan. Part of the confusion may lie in the name “Mauritius de Nassau”’s having been applied to an area of Tierra del Fuego (see below). In the account it was noted, “On the first May [1615] the Admiral sent Maerten Pietersz, captain on the Morgen-sterre, with the Upper-steerman, Hendrick Reyers, with a boat to seek for the right passage . . . The same had not departed far from us when they saw some fine fowl sitting on land, which one calls Dod-aersen or Dronten; they have large heads [this is followed by the rest of the text from Plinius Secundus] and taken on the voyage . . . wherefore four of our guests requested leave for to go on land and to shoot some of these birds” (Oudemans 1917b, 13–14). Having the illustration of the dodo already (see above; fig. 4.12) Saeghman merely added the description as well, albeit in the wrong place. Indeed, the 1619 and 1646 editions of Van Spilbergen’s account make no mention of dodos: “The same were not departed far from us: saw some fine birds sitting on land, wherefore four of the guests requested permission, and received [it], to go on to land and to shoot the birds.”16 Although these birds are not named, Oudemans

Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

South American Dodos: Van Spilbergen’s Account

4.12.  The dodo from Saeghman’s edition of Van Spilbergen (Van Spilbergen 1663). 123

(1917b) identified them from two depicted on the accompanying chart as Magellan geese (Chloephaga picta).

Two Mauritian “Robinsonades”: Neville and Von Grimmelshausen

In the seventeenth century, Mauritius was already being used as a setting for works of fiction – “desert island” adventures, or “Robinsonades.” Neville A work of fiction ascribed to Henry Neville (1620–1694) by Anthony Wood (Athenæ Oxoniensis 918 [see Newton and Gadow 1896, who mentioned it under the entry on the Rodrigues solitaire]) allegedly contains a mention of the dodo. The work and the identification of the dodo were first brought to general attention by Hachisuka (1953). According to the title page, the work The Isle of Pines, Or, A Late Discovery of a Fourth Island in Terra Australis, Incognita is: A True Relation of certain English persons, Who in the dayes of Queen Elizabeth, making a Voyage to the East India, were cast away, and wracked upon the Island near to the Coast of Terra Australis, Incognita . . . And now lately Anno Dom. 1667. a Dutch Ship . . . have found their Posterity (speaking good English) to amount to ten or twelve thousand persons, as they suppose. The whole Relation follows, written, and left by the Man himself a little before his death, and declared to the Dutch by his Grandchild. (Neville 1668a)

According to Newton (see Hachisuka 1953), the name “The Isle of Pines” is synonymous with Mauritius: [W]e found on Land a sort of fowl about the bignesse of a Swan, very heavy and fat, that by reason of their weight could not fly, of these we found little difficulty to kill, so that they were our present food. (Neville 1668a, 4)

The text is repeated almost verbatim in the enlarged edition (Neville 1668b, 10). According to Wood (Athenæ Oxoniensis [Bliss], 4:410), Neville’s Isle of Pines “was look’d upon as a mere sham or piece of drollery,” when it was first published. In the narrative, on April 3, 1570, the colonists-to-be sailed on the India Merchant from England to the East Indies, and were wrecked on the island around October 1. A Dutch ship sailed from Amsterdam on April 27, 1667, and arrived at the island sometime later that year, where they found the English. The descendants of the first English colonists returned to England on May 26, 1668. Henry Cornelius Van Sloetten gave the account of George Pine in a letter written on July 22, 1668. Hachisuka (1953) thought that the account represented evidence of dodos at that date. Cheke argued that even if, in the unlikely case, Neville’s notice was based on fact, “the supposed Dodos were found when the character George Pine first landed on the island in 1559 [sic], not when his progeny left” (1987, 38). Newton and Gadow (1896) thought that from the evidence of Neville’s account there was probably a description of Pezophaps written prior to Leguat’s, although they considered that Herbert’s mention of the “dodo” on Rodrigues might have given the idea to Neville. However, Neville’s book is undoubtedly a work of fiction, perhaps influenced by events such as the Aernhem disaster. 124

The Dodo and the Solitaire

Translations were also published in Dutch (Neville 1668c), French, and German. Von Grimmelshausen Friedel (1885) mentioned a novel by Hans Jakob Christoffels von Grimmelshausen,17 featuring the hero Simplicius Simplicissimus. His source was the 1863 edition of Heinrich Kurz, in which the editor equated the birds referred to as Walchen (from the Dutch) with dodos. According to the novel, sometime around 1667 Simplicius was shipwrecked in the sea east of Madagascar opposite “Terra Australem incognitam” on an uninhabited island, suggestive of Mauritius, with a companion. The adventurers found “many strange birds, which did not shy themselves [away] from us at all, [but] let [us] catch [them] by hand” (Von Grimmelshausen 1863, 222). In the mountains “lay also such nests full with eggs that we could not surprise ourselves enough over it” (223–224). With the eggs they baked cakes using “bird lard [Schmaltz], as we obtained from the birds so-called Walchen” (236). They also plucked and washed the birds and cooked them on skewers. Lacking clothing, the survivors “took the skins off the large birds, [such] as the Walchen and penguins [Pingwins], and made ourselves outside trousers [Niderkleider drauß]” (237). A section added to chapter 23 gives the relation of Jean Cornelissen of Harlem, a Dutch sea captain who wrote to his friend German Schleifheim von Sulsfort (Grimmelshausen) about Simplicissimus. Cornelissen reported that they found a German on the island who had been there a long time, and that “the place [was] so full of birds [Geflügel], that let [themselves] be caught by hand” and which they struck to death with sticks (Grimmelshausen 1863, 246). However, Goodrick (1912) translated Walchen as boobies and noddies (Sula spp.; cf. the name Tölpel). Furthermore, this edition also made clear that some of the birds mentioned flew, and so could not have been dodos. It appears that Von Grimmelshausen, writing in the genre of the shipwrecked traveler, was emulating the true stories of the survivors of the Aernhem disaster (see chapter 1; cf. Neville, above). Aside from being a work of fiction, Von Grimmelshausen’s work cannot be taken as an instance of the dodo.

The majority of eighteenth-century printed works on the dodo, up to the publication of Shaw and Nodder’s Naturalist’s Miscellany (1792–1794), omit any mention of anatomical evidences of the dodo and are cobbled together from a few previous sources. With Shaw and Nodder’s work the reality of the dodo was confirmed. Despite this, the former existence of the dodo was still doubted by some. The dodo was not really considered an icon of extinction until the mid-nineteenth century. Up until then there were still doubts as to whether the dodo really was extinct. Classification and geological knowledge might also have had an effect on whether the continued existence of the dodo was believed. Classifying the dodo as a ratite, almost exclusively Southern Hemisphere birds, might have suggested that it could still survive elsewhere Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

A Troubled Afterlife: Post-contemporary Accounts

125

in the Southern Hemisphere. The ratites, although related, are widely distributed, suggesting that the dodo might have had a wider distribution than the Mascarenes. The erroneous idea of a former sunken landmass, of which the Mascarenes were a part, probably also contributed to the idea that the dodo might still linger on in other Indian Ocean islands. Furthermore, large areas of mainland Africa and Madagascar were still unexplored. The Dark Ages Shortly after the extinction of the dodo and solitaire, there was doubt as to their former existence. Mauduyt stated, “It should not be believed that this bird never existed, as some modern travelers think it, because all their research and their efforts were useless to find it in the populated and cultivated islands, where it was observed in the time that they were deserted” (1782, 671). Morel, secretary of the Port Louis Hospital, Mauritius, thought that the Portuguese and Dutch found “Emeus or Casoüars, or even rheas [Touyous]” on the Mascarenes and that their varied accounts were copied, embellished, and badly translated (1778, 154). However, he considered that the Mascarenes did once shelter large flightless birds. He also thought that the Rodrigues solitaire was probably a cassowary or rhea (touyou), poorly observed while the island was still uninhabited. Jacques Christophe Valmont-Bomare, compiler of the Dictionnaire raisonné universel d’histoire naturelle, remarked that “the solitaire is a bird very little known, and that there are some reasons to doubt its existence” (Valmont-Bomare 1800, 9:341). Even George Shaw himself reasoned, [C]an it be possible that an Albatross, (Diomedea exulans Lin.) not fully grown, and inaccurately represented by a draughtsman, may have given rise to the supposed existence of the Dodo? If this be granted, we must surely admit an uncommon degree of carelessness in the painter, who could thus neglect to express the webs on the feet of the Albatross, as well as to represent the wings extremely large and long, instead of small and short; together with other particulars in which the two birds can by no means be made to agree. Yet, on the other hand, it is undeniable that the general appearance of the beak of an Albatross is not greatly dissimilar to that of the supposed Dodo. And if we contemplate a young or halfgrown specimen of the great Albatross, before it has arrived at its proper colour, and while there is a mixture of black and white on the wings and other parts, and to this superadd the heavy and crouching posture in which it sometimes appears, it will perhaps seem not absolutely impossible that an erroneous sketch from such a bird may have been the basis on which the existence of the Dodo has hitherto stood. (Shaw and Nodder, pl. 123; see fig. 4.13)

Following this, James Francis Stephens, in his General Zoology, wrote: The Dodo of Edwards appears to have existed only in the imagination of that artist, or the species has been utterly extirpated since his time, which is scarcely probable. Its beak is said to be deposited in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, and a foot in the collection in the British Museum. The former appears rather to belong to some unknown species of Albatross than to a bird of this order [Struthiones], and the latter to another unknown bird; but upon what authority it has been stated to belong to the Dodo, I am at a loss to determine. . . . Two other species of Didus are described by Latham and others, but the same doubt attaches to both of them as to the last mentioned. (Stephens 1819, 422)

126

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4.13.  Dodo (Shaw and Nodder 1792–94, pl. 123: [“London, Published Dec.r 1.st 1792, by F. P. Nodder & C.o N.o15 Brewer Street”]).

Cuvier, who added his section on the dodo as a footnote to that on the cassowary, stated that the dodo was known only from one description, related by Clusius, and by Savery-BM, and that the “description of Herbert is puerile, and all the others are copied from Clusius and Edwards” (1817, 463). He added that the species appeared to have disappeared, with only the BM foot and Ashmolean head remaining. As for the solitaire, he noted that it rested only on the testimony of Leguat, “a man who disfigured the best-known animals, such as the hippopotamus and the dugong” (463). Frederick Boie also stated that Didus solitarius was based on the “suspicious evidence” of Leguat (1833, 545). Dumont remarked that the dodo’s “existence is still questioned by several authors” (1819, 519). Temminck, however, noted that the preserved head and foot “prove in a most authentic manner the existence of a bird which is by no means fabulous, as some naturalists assure” (1820, cxv). Vigors (1825) too, thought without doubt that dodos formerly existed. Owen added, “We have examined carefully the foot in the British Museum, and also the head of the Dodo at the Ashmolean Museum, and derived a conviction that

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127

they are the remains of a bird sui generis” (1835–1836, 269).18 Duncan (1828) summed up the known evidence for the dodo. However, not all were convinced. Dumont stated that the solitaire “is, with the dodo and the bird of Nazare, one of the three whose existence is still regarded by several naturalists as problematic” (1827, 451). Lesson considered the dodo to be authentic, but extinct. However, he later stated of the dodo, “May it not be the cassowary of the East Indies, to which one would have added a beak of an albatross? It is said that it was formerly very common on the islands of France and Bourbon, and that the first had received from it the name of île de Cerne, because of these birds thus named. May not the apteryx of Mr. Temminck be founded on the parts of dodo preserved at the Museum of London?” (1828b, 211).19 He wrote also, “However, after having read and read again the history of the Dodo and especially what Clusius says, we are as convinced as it is possible to be that the Dodo is only the Cassowary of the Indies, Struthio Casuarius L. Enl. 313, which lives in all the islands of Asia, from New Guinea to Sumatra, and which was formerly to live, in the same latitudes, in Ile-de-France and Bourbon, where this species will have been very easily destroyed” (1828a, 304). On Clusius’s description, Lesson wrote, “Wouldn’t it be appropriate for the Cassowary, especially if one remembers with what indifference the former authors described the animals formerly?” (305). However, Clusius described in detail and figured the cassowary. Later, Lesson noted under the entry for the emu (Dromaius), “It is extremely probable that the dodo is none other than the cassowary. . . . The fourth digit that one gives it will have been the result of an error in the coarse figures. . . . As for the solitaire . . . it is very probably the young of the albatross, which [Leguat] has characterized very poorly, and of which the description is filled with puerile facts which are self-contradictory” (1831, 10, 11). In response, Sélys-Longchamps remarked, “One cannot conceive how Mr. Lesson can think that the Dodo is simply a cassowary of the islands of Sunda while there is a head and a foot which refer neither to cassowary nor to any kind of known bird” (1842, 256–257). Still the dodo’s former existence was doubted. Cuvier (see Audouin et al. 1830) stated that, having compared in England the Tradescant head with Savery-BM, he was led to believe that the dodo had been composed of parts of two distinct species joined together. Griffith (1829) concurred. Jean Lamouroux (1824–30) stated that Cuvier still looked at the existence of the solitaire and bird of Nazare as more doubtful than that of the dodo.20 Audouin et al. noted that some claimed that the dodo had never existed, and that descriptions of it “referred to the auk and the penguin” (1830, 103). John Edward Gray considered the dodo to be a composite: the known remains comprising the head of a vulture or vulture-like bird and the feet of a gallinaceous bird. His reasons were that the head has a cere; the nostrils are oval, placed in front of the cere, and nearly erect; the bill is very hooked; and the form of the foot: shortness of the middle toe, tarsal scutellation, and bluntness of the claws (Broderip 1837; Strickland 1848). Thus, he thought the dodo a product of art, illustrations of it having been modeled on these two species. Anon. (1832) remarked that the bird, in the shortness of the wings, resembles the ostrich, but its foot, in general, rather resembles that of the common fowl, and the beak, from the position of its nostrils, is most nearly allied to the Vultures; so that its true place in the 128

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series of birds, if indeed such a bird ever really existed, is as yet not satisfactorily determined. (99)

Others suggested that the BM foot was from an unknown species of albatross and the Tradescant head from an unknown bird. Anon. (1849) had doubts as to whether the known bones of Pezophaps belonged to Leguat’s bird, stating that they were from an antediluvian bird rather than a modern one. Despite this, doubts were overcome and the dodo and solitaire were considered to be real birds. But were they still living? The Dodo and Solitaire Now Extinct Not having found mention of the dodo in the work of Nicolas Louis de la Caille,21 Houttuyn speculated, “Perhaps he has been already completely eradicated, by length of time and the various hunters: because he was slow of pace and stupid, becoming easily caught, bontius says” (1763, 321). Pierre Jean Claude Mauduyt similarly suggested that the dodo might be extinct: When man takes possession of a new land, the animals which enjoyed its productions in peace withdraw themselves to the uncultivated & solitary places where destruction & disorder still do not penetrate; the continuation withdraws them from our empire & our weapons. But the dodo, deprived of the faculty to fly, only hardly going, seems to have been a mass exposed to all the blows without being able to avoid any of them; if some individuals have withdrawn themselves into the most isolated parts of the islands, on the surface of which the species was distributed and bred, their reduced movement is their safeguard by removing them from the sight & search of the hunters. It thus appears, either because the species was completely destroyed, or because it does not consist any more but of a very small number of individuals pushed back into the least frequented places, that one does not today find the dodo any more in the same islands where those who approached [the island] first discovered it there. (1782, 671)

4.14.  Oliver Goldsmith’s dodo (Goldsmith 1776 [“Jno. Lodge sculp.”]).

I will add for singular reflection that unfortunately for the progress of ornithology, these birds are not found any more in places where the first navigators have seen them, or that at least research to find them was useless, & that thus there is reason to fear that these animals, which had preserved themselves in uninhabited islands, may have been entirely destroyed since these islands were populated or frequented, & that there is little hope to meet them but in some island of the same seas that one could also discover & find equally without [human] inhabitants. But the existence of these birds appears to me too attested to revoke it in doubt, as it is the feeling of several people. (1784, 261) It seems, after the details that one has just read, that one cannot doubt the existence of this bird [Pezophaps]. But these details are due to travelers; how is it that since observers have traversed the same countries & made collections there, none found a bird which one can relate to the solitaire? The species was, it is said, destroyed: in a limited & entirely cleared island, early on; but is the Rodrigues Island & that of Bourbon, where it is also claimed that the solitaire is found, cleared in entirety, is there no more woodland where these birds may have found retreat? So many reasons to doubt their existence! (1784, 446)

Cheke and Hume (2008) postulated that Mauduyt had used Morel’s article as a source. Morel remarked that the dodo and solitaire were “never were seen in Isles de France, of Bourbon, Rodrigues, & even the lately discovered Seychelles Isles, since more than 60 years that these sea-coasts are Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

4.15.  An eighteenth-century engraving of the dodo (Macfarquhar and Gleig 1797, pl. clxiv [“A. Bell Prin. Wal. Sculptor fecit”]). 129

inhabited & visited by French colonies. The oldest inhabitants assure all that these monstrous birds were always unknown to them” (1778, 154). Ray noted that the dodo was not found on Mauritius and Réunion anymore, “thus, one is unaware of what became of it. Would the entire sp. be extinct?” (1788, 188). Regarding the solitaire, he added that it was formerly found on “the isles of Bourbon & Rodrigues where they are not found any more” (568). Bomare stated that the “species of the bird of Nazare must therefore be extremely rare: also one does not find it any more, & perhaps it has disappeared” (1791, 482). Louis-Charles, Baron Grant de Vaux, noted that the dodo “is no longer found in the Isle of France, nor in those of Bourbon, Rodriguez, and Sechelles. It must now be placed among the species that have existed, but have been destroyed by the facility with which they were taken. No hope can now be entertained of finding them, but on the shores of uninhabited islands” (Grant 1801, 145).22 Sonnini added, “men have had no reason to regret its loss” (1803, 7:348). Bory de Saint Vincent considered the dodo to be extinct, or perhaps existing as a very few individuals in secluded places, and that it was not to be found in either Mauritius or Réunion. He did, however, think that the dodo did indeed once exist: “At all events, our doubts about the monstrous birds of Rodrigues, Mauritius, and Mascareigne [i.e., Réunion] will never be cleared up, unless similar ones are discovered in Madagascar, that of which I doubt. It would rather be necessary to seek them on some deserted and volcanic island of the same latitudes, where one would meet almost the same productions. . . . I made all the possible searchings about the dodo and the bird of Nazareth; and, in all of the Isles-de-France and Réunion, I did not find a hunter, even among the oldest, who could tell me a word on this subject” (1804, 306–307). He even offered a large reward to any who could supply any information (Drapiez 1824). Shaw also wondered if the dodo could still be found: “[I]t remains to wish that the laudable zeal and spirited exertions of modern naturalists may at length put an end to the uncertainty [of the dodo’s existence] by importing the real bird into Europe, if it can be found to exist” (Shaw and Nodder 1792–1794, pl. 123). Later, Shaw observed that the dodo “is either grown so rare as to be no longer easily discoverable in the regions where it was formerly found, or else, like some other animals, must have become extinct, from some causes of destruction with which we are unacquainted” (1809, 214–215). On September 20, 1816, Robert Farquhar, governor on Mauritius, held a banquet at which there were two guests who were over ninety, and nineteen who were in their seventies – none could recall a bird such as the dodo or that their elders had seen or mentioned it (Blainville 1835; Brandt 1848a). Charles Telfair wrote to John Shute Duncan, “[T]here is a very general impression among the inhabitants, that the Dodo did formerly exist at Rodriguez, as well as at the Mauritius itself; but that the oldest inhabitants have never seen it, nor has the bird or any part of it been preserved in any museum or collection formed in those islands, although some distinguished amateurs in natural history have passed their lives on them, and formed extensive collections” (Duncan 1828, 566). On Rodrigues, Dawkins (see chapter 5) questioned many people about the dodo, finding that nobody knew of it (Telfair 1833). One person mentioned the Oiseau-Bœuf, named

4.16.  John Vaughan Thompson’s dodo (Thompson 1829, fig. 107).

4.17.  Brandt’s dodo (Brandt 1848, 5 [“A. Agin del.” “E. Bernardskÿ sculps.”]).

4.18.  An engraving of the dodo from Rees (1820 [“Leney Sculp.”]). 130

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because its call resembled that of a cow, but this turned out to be a booby (Telfair 1833). Some thought that the dodo might still survive. Vigors speculated, “We may, however, still entertain some hopes that the Didus may be recovered in the south-eastern part of that vast continent [Africa]” (1825, 484). Blainville (see Audouin et al. 1830) stated that it was not certain that the dodo was extinct, since Madagascar, with its many similarities to Mauritius, was not thoroughly explored.23 Millin, believing the dodo to be a bird of Persian mythology, stated that “one finds it in Madagascar, in Ile-de-France, in several places of the East Indies” (1802, 62). Latham, noting that some thought the island of Cerné to be Madagascar, considered it possible that the dodo “may yet exist there” (1823, 374). Previously, Plinius Secundus (1650) had stated that it was also to be found in the West Indies; this was followed by Krünitz (1776), who even stated that Mauritius was located in the West Indies! Boie (1833) also pondered whether the dodo was extinct or whether it still existed in the far regions of the South Pole, and Wagler stated that the “tribes [Sippen] Didus and Apteryx exist indeed (most probably live very deep at the South Pole)” (1830, 123). Griffith countered that is was impossible to see how the dodo, “unable either to swim or fly, could cross the space which separates the islands [Mauritius, Rodrigues, Réunion, Seychelles]. This reflection, too, invalidates the conjecture of Grant, that the dodo may yet be found on the coasts of some uninhabited islands” (1829, 446–447). With greater knowledge of the species and further exploration it was concluded that the dodo and solitaire were indeed extinct. Researchers, such as Strickland (1848), recognized the dodo to be the first species to have been clearly exterminated by man.

4.19.  An engraving of the dodo, from Sharpe (1894, 122).

Evolution and Fitness The didine birds were extinct, but why had this occurred? Why was the dodo shaped as it was? Early-eighteenth-century naturalists exemplified the dodo as an “unfit” or “degenerated” organism. The widespread misconception that animals were placed on the earth for the benefit of man, who was placed above all others, no doubt reinforced this. The dodo corresponded neither to the ideal of a bird, nor to accepted avian beauty. Bomare wrote of the dodo: “This animal is extremely stupid: . . . its head is long, large, & deformed” (1768, 2:467). Buffon (1770) thought that new species were created through “degeneration” caused by the environment or breeding habits. Although written by an educated naturalist, Buffon’s account typified the anthropocentricity of the time: One generally looks at lightness as an attribute specific to the birds, but if one wanted to make of it the essential character of this class, the dodo would not have any right to be admitted there, because far from announcing lightness by its proportions or by its movements, it appears to be made purposely to give us the idea of the heaviest of organized beings; imagine for yourself a massive & almost cubic body, hardly borne on two very large & very short pillars, surmounted by a head so extraordinary that one would take it for the imagination of a painter of grotesques; this head related to a reinforced & goitrous neck, consists almost wholly of an enormous beak. . . . From all that results a stupid & voracious aspect,

Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

4.20.  An engraving of the solitaire, from Sharpe (1894, 123). 131

& which, to crown the deformity, is accompanied by an edge of feathers. . . . Size which, in animals, supposes strength, produces only gravity here; the ostrich, the rhea [touyou], the cassowary, are not more in a state of flight than the dodo, but at least they are very quick at running; instead the dodo appears overpowered by its own weight, & to have hardly the strength to trail itself: it is in the birds as the sloth is in the quadrupeds; it would be said that it is composed of a brute material, inactive, where the living molecules were spared too much; it has wings, but these wings are too short & too weak to raise it into the air; it has a tail, but this tail is disproportionate & out of place; one would take it for a tortoise which would have dressed in the skin of a bird, & Nature, by granting these useless ornaments to it, seems to have desired to add embarrassment to gravity, awkwardness of movements to the inertia of mass, & render its thick heaviness even more shocking while making us remember that it is a bird. (1770, 480–481)

Regarding the solitaire, Buffon noted how it cared for its young, whereas the ostrich, “most stupid of the birds,” did not. He thought Leguat’s account was “spoiled in some places by fabulous ideas,” such as the first meeting of the young solitaires, forming a “marriage.” Buffon’s concepts were repeated by subsequent authors, such as Goldsmith (1774). Sonnini remarked that the dodo “was one of these species that nature seems to have produced in instant of negligence or mood, and which she worries little to preserve. Indeed, the dodo has only repulsive shapes and qualities” (1803, 7:348). The dodo was described as “deformed” and “ill-shaped,” and named “ineptus” (e.g., Linnaeus 1766; Wilkes 1810). Magnitude, which in most animals implies strength, seems to produce nothing in this bird but oppressive weight. . . . The dodo seems to be clogged by its unwieldy carcass, and can hardly collect force sufficient to drag it along. It is the most inactive of the feathered race. . . . The Dutch . . . first gave it the name of walgh-vogel, disgusting bird; both on account of its ugly figure, and its rank smell. (Wilkes 1810, 811)

Virey wrote of “the sloth, the unau and the aï, formless animals, degraded, imperfect, that nature seems only to have outlined, and that it threw without vigor, without defense, almost without movement, into a corner of the land, to vegetate there sadly; such were, among the heavy birds and without flight, the dodo, the bird of Nazareth” (1819, 496). According to Drapiez, “the stupidity and gravity of these birds to which nature, moreover, had refused the bodies of flight and swimming, not enabling them to withdraw themselves from the continuations of men and to spread themselves on the continent where vast forests would have offered sure retirements to them; it is not surprising that they entirely disappeared from the land” (1824, 623). Although these concepts continued to be repeated, some authors recognized the evolutionary uniqueness of the dodo, the fact that it was not “inept” or “deformed” but well adapted to its environment, a fascinating creature to be admired. Strickland exemplified this: let us beware of attributing anything like imperfection to these anomalous organisms, however deficient they may be in those complicated structures which we so much admire in other creatures. Each animal and plant has received its peculiar organization for the purpose, not of exciting the admiration of other beings, but of sustaining its own existence. (1848, 34)

Mauduyt had likewise previously remarked, “Such is the portrait that has been drawn for us of the dodo & to which imagination could well have 132

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added, a picture which gives the idea of a monstrous conformation according to our manner of seeing & [yet] perhaps [the] most suitable, [and] best proportioned for the needs of the places where the dodo had been placed, & compared to its organization in general” (1782, 671). Geographical Distribution, and Confusion of the Dodo and Solitaire The names dodo, didus, and dronte were used for both dodo and solitaire in the early nineteenth century. Furthermore, there was some uncertainty as to which species occurred where. Linnaeus (1758, 1766) stated that the dodo was to be found in India, presumably meaning the East Indies. Even from early on the dodo was stated to live on both Mauritius and Réunion (e.g., Buffon 1770; Gmelin 1788; La Fresnaye 1841). Buffon added that the dodo was probably also to be found “in the lands of that continent which is the least distant from it; but I do not know any traveler who claims to have seen it elsewhere than in these two islands” (1770, 483), but later stated that the dodo, solitaire, and bird of Nazare were not found on the continent. Furthermore, he mentioned that the solitaire was to be found on Rodrigues and Réunion. Buffon (1770) considered both Leguat’s and Carré’s accounts to refer to the Rodrigues solitaire, and that of Cauche to refer to the bird of Nazareth. Bomare (1775, 1791) noted that bird of Nazare was found on the Isle of Nazare and that Cauche saw it on Mauritius. Morel (1778) stated that both Leguat and Cauche described the “oiseau de Nazare.” Although Borowski (1789) separated the dodo and solitaire, he stated that the “Nazarvogel” lived in the islands of Nazar and Mauritius. Nemnich (1793, vol. 1) noted that the dodo was formerly found on Mauritius and Réunion, the solitaire on Réunion and Rodrigues, and the “Nazarvogel” on the island Nazare. Grant (1801) erroneously declared that the dodo was the bird that was named “the ‘Giant’” by Leguat.24 Stating that the “Hooded Dodo” was found on Mauritius and Bourbon, Latham remarked, “These cannot be the only parts where they are found, and must have been imported into them from others, since it is said, that the Portuguese, who first discovered them, found neither land bird nor quadruped in either” (1785, 3). Bory de Saint Vincent (1804) stated that the Rodrigues solitaire was thought to be the same as the dodo, but that he considered it to be perhaps another variety or species of the same genus. The confusion continued with Thompson (1829), who referred to the solitaire as the dodo. Moreover, he included Tatton’s account as an instance of the dodo (see below). The Number of Species Furthermore, even the number of species of dodo was in question. As Cauche’s description differed from others of the dodo, it was used as the basis for a third type of dodo. Buffon (1770), Latham (1785) and Gmelin (1788) divided the dodo into three species: the dodo, solitaire, and the bird of Nazareth. Buffon observed that the Rodrigues solitaire and the bird of Nazareth “appear to have much relationship with the dodo, but they also differ from Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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it in several points” (1770, 485). He added that if “the solitaire & the dodo are the same species, it is necessary to admit a very great difference between the male & the female” (486–487), as the females of the solitaire were very different from those of the dodo in appearance. He concluded that more data were needed in order to determine whether the dodo, solitaire, and bird of Nazare were three distinct species. Bory de Saint Vincent remarked, “Is it not remarkable that nearly in the same climate, and three sufficiently close islands to experience the same atmospheric influences, similar islands as for their nature, there existed three of the same kind, almost similar birds, and which, in any assumption, had not been able to pass from one island to the other?” (1804, 306). The editor of Thompson’s article stated, “[I]t is not likely that the three islands of the Mauritius group possessed each a distinct type of so singular and unique a bird” (1829, 448). Jennings (1828) divided the dodo into three species: the “Hooded” (Mauritius and Réunion), the “Solitary” (Rodrigues) and the “Nazarene” (Réunion). However, Boie (1833) thought the Nazarene dodo was most probably a nominal species only. Today, we recognize only two species: the dodo of Mauritius and the solitaire of Rodrigues.

Naming the Dodo and Solitaire

The most common name applied to the dodo by the Dutch was dodaers(en) or one of its variants. It was first recorded by Grimmaert (1598) as doedersen and its German version was totersten or toddärsche (the latter used for the red rail, Aphanapteryx; see chapter 1). The English used dodo most commonly and also dodar (which appears to be derived from dodaers). The names dodo and dodar were apparently limited to English descriptions (in his catalog Tradescant (1656, xvii, xviii) stated that the “divers sorts of Birds” were “given usual English names”). There was also a desire by some authors to give variants of the dodo’s name, perhaps to confirm its identity: dod-aarsen or dronten (Van WestZanen 1648), totersten or walckvögel (Verken 1613), dodaersen or dronten (Matelief 1646), and so on. Dodo The name dodo probably originated from dodaers, perhaps through variants such as doeders(en) and dodoers(sen). A popular idea is that the name dodo is derived from the sixteenthcentury Portuguese dóudo (e.g., Noll 1889; North-Coombes 1980; Simpson and Weiner 1989; Valledor de Lozoya 2003; doido is the modern version). Dóudo meant “a sot, fool, foolish, or crazy man” (Alewyn and Collé 1714, 362).25 The use of dodo by the Portuguese was postulated by several authors (e.g., Sonnini 1803), and Lüttschwager (1961) thought that the names Dodo, Dronte, Dudu, and Dondon were probably derived from the Portuguese word for “stupid.” Charleton (1668) referred to the bird as “Dodo Lusitanorum” (that is, Dodo of the Portuguese). However, there are no known contemporary Portuguese accounts referring to the dodo by this name. Almeida, the only contemporary Portuguese to mention the bird, described it as “a very young ostrich” or ema (i.e. cassowary; see chapter 1). Moreover,

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Jolinck, who had spent much time in Portugal, does not use a Portuguese name (see chapter 1) and Van Linschoten, who described the East Indies in 1598 and was familiar with Portuguese, did not mention the dodo. It should also be noted that the Portuguese name for Mauritius, “Ilha do Cirne” is probably derived from the name of a ship, and not a reference to dodos (see below). The earliest record of the name dodo is given by Altham in 1628 (see chapter 1). He stated that the bird was “called by ye portingals DoDo.” Herbert (1634) was the first to give the name in print. He later noted, “a Portuguize name it is, and has reference to her simplenes” (1638, 347). It is known that Altham’s and Herbert’s fleets were together for part of their journey and it is possible that the source for their statements is the same. Herbert is known for his fanciful etymologies (for example, derivation of name Digarroys [Rodrigues] and Mauritius from Welsh; see Foster 1928) and it is possible that he merely assumed the derivation of the name. It is even possible, although unlikely, that the name could be a Portuguese rendering of the Dutch dodaers. Other imaginative origins for the name have been suggested. Oudemans (1917b), followed by Hachisuka (1953), thought the name might be derived from the bird’s call: “doo doo” or “doedoe” (see chapter 6). Whatever its origin, the name dodo became popular and was adopted by many as the name for the bird. This was perhaps in part due to the several editions of Herbert’s work, and its derivatives (see chapter 1). Dronte The name Dronten was first used in one of the Gelderland journals of 1601. The most probable origin for the name is from the Middle Dutch verb dronten, “to be swollen” (related to drenten and drinten; Newton and Gadow 1896; Falk and Torp 191026), which is related to the English drone and in German drohne (Strickland 1848). Another suggestion is that the word was coined by Danish sailors from the verb drunte or drønte, “to linger or be slow” (Millies 1868; Oudemans 1917b); this is unlikely, as the first recorded appearance of the name was in 1601, before Danish vessels visited Mauritius. Schlegel (1854a) suggested that perhaps it was a degeneration of dod-aars – again, unlikely. Hooper commented on a namesake of the dodo, Augustin Dodo (d. 1501), native of Friesland, and canon of St. Leonard in Basel, noting that in the east part of Friesland is the province of Drenthe. He speculated that the Dutch might have named the dodo in honour of “Mr. Dodo of Drenthe, to whom perhaps some of the discoverers might have been related” (1852, 35) or that someone from Drenthe might have had a dodo-like bird on their arms, giving the name to the dodo. Vrolik (1853) added that the names Dodo, Dode, and Doede are not uncommon in Friesland. Burmeister (1849) suggested that perhaps dronte developed from the Scandinavian dronne (king; drohne in German), referring to the size of the bird, being the largest on Mauritius. Rowley (1877) gave the most implausible version, that it might have been an imitation of the noise made by the dodo with closed beak.

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The fact that authors, such as Van West-Zanen, explained the origin of the name Walgh Vogel, but not Dod-aarsen or Dronten suggests that these latter were derived from well-known words: Dod-aarsen from Dod + aarse and Dronten meaning “swollen.” Dodaers The earliest published use of Dodaers was by Verken (1613), in the plural form of Totersten, Toterst being a corruption of Dodaers. The derivation of the name almost certainly comes from the Dutch dod, “ball or knob,” or “a round, heavy lump” (Dutch borrowed from Frisian) and aers, “arse” or “fundament.” This is confirmed by Van der Venne: “by sailors [it] is named Dodaers on account of its ugly fat posterior part”; Plinius Secundus (1650, 679): “They have thick round behind, there from it seems, that they have got the name of Dod-aers”; and Nieuhof (1682, 283): “The belly and arse are thick, that almost hangs on the ground: wherefrom, and because of their lazy pace, this bird was named Dodaers by us.” Another suggestion is that the word derives from the Dutch dot (“tuft”) and aers, because the dodo had a tuft-like tail (Van Veen and Van der Sijs 1997). In Dutch, the name dodaars was given to the little grebe (Podiceps ruficollis; Schlegel 1854a; Kluiver [see Noll 1889]), which has a round posterior and tuft-like tail. Oudemans (1917b) noted that if the little grebe was known by this name prior to the dodo, then it might be the source of the name for the latter, or perhaps vice versa. Strickland considered it to originate from the Dutch dodoor, a “hum-drum” or sluggard.27 He stated, “Dodaers is not improbably a cant word among Dutch sailors, analogous to our term ‘lubber,’ and perhaps aims at expressiveness rather than elegance” (1848, 16). Vrolik (1853) added that dod formerly meant “crazy” (citing Van der Schueren, Teutonista, 74; cf. dodden, “crazy persons”). Doddig meant “turning around” (according to Plantyn, Thesaurus teutonicae linguae) and Vrolik thought that this was the origin of dod, referring to the bird’s supposedly unwieldly and tottering pace. Blainville (1835) gave the derivation of dod-aers as “drowsy bird” (“oiseau somnolent”; cf. French dodo, “sleep,” and Dutch dodderig, “sleepy” [Boyer 1769; Buys 1766]). Lesson (1838) – incorrectly stating that the Dutch called the bird dot-aers – thought that this word meant dormeur (a sleeper or sluggard), which became dodo (sleep), then dronte. Newton suggested that the Dutch might have had Portuguese pilots, and, “the meaning of Doudo not being plain to the Dutch, they would, as is the habit of sailors, convert it into something they did understand. Then Dodaers would easily suggest itself” (1875–1889, 322). Other unlikely suggestions included derivations from “Arschbusch” (“arse-bush”) or “busch-arsch” (“bush-arse”), relating to the bird’s tail (Müller 1773; Buffon 1775; Bronn 1856), and even “dode-aars” (dode, dead, + aars, arse), “alluding to its prominent and rounded behind as well as to the ease with which it could be hunted” (Valledor de Lozoya 2003, 209). Anon. (see Pitot 1905) suggested the Dutch dod, “dirty or foul” and aarse, “posterior.” Dave (1985) even implausibly suggested that the Dutch Dodaarsen was derived from Sanskrit. The statement by Evertsz (Olearius 1670, 1696) indicates that the dodo was known by this name (doddaerssen, dodderse) in the East Indies. The 136

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name was later also used for the red rail (Aphanateryx), in the German form toddärsche (see chapter 1). Walghvogel The Dutch who first encountered the dodo named it Walchvoghel or Walghvoghel (Anon. 1601a), “partly because they were tough in eating, how long time soeuer they sod: yet the crop & breast were very good meat[,] but specially because we could take store of Turtle Doues, which were more delectable in taste” (Anon. 1601c, fol. 6v). There are several other variants of the name, including Walghfowle (Anon. 1601c), Walghstocks (Anon. 1599), and Wallowbirds (Anon. 1599). In the 1599 English edition it is noted that the crew called them “Wallowbirds, that is to say, lothsome or fulsome birdes” (17). The word wallow is related to the Old English wealg (“insipid”) and the Middle Dutch walghe (“nausea, fastidium”) and means “tasteless, inspid; sickly” (Simpson and Weiner 1989, 21:857).28 Thus, it seems that the dodo was named not because it was bad tasting, but because its meat was rich, so that one could not eat very much before feeling that one had eaten enough, after which it became sickening. Ray translated Walghvogel as “nauseous, or yellowish bird” (1678, 153), which was corrected in the errata as “wallowish.” Later authors (e.g., Sonnini 1803) expanded the meaning to include the bird’s supposed ugliness as well as its bad taste. Others (e.g., Gérard 1844) went further, stating that the flesh of the dodo was fetid. Gervais and Coquerel, thinking that the dodo probably ate animal substances, opined that its crop probably contained “animal matters in a more or less advanced state of putrefaction” and which contributed to the bird being called the Oiseau de dégoût (1866, 927). Oiseaux de Nazaret The name “oiseaux de Nazaret” first appears in Cauche’s description (see chapter 1). Cauche’s editor, Morisot, noted that “perhaps this name is given to them on account of [their] being found in the isle of Nazare, which is higher than that of Mauritius, [being] under the 17[th] degree beyond the equator” (1651, 131). Morisot also included a chart showing the “I. de Nazaret” (fig. 31). The Isle of Nazare was depicted on early maps as “baxos denazare” (Diego Ribero, 1520 [quoted in Guët 1888]), “Baixos de Nazaret” (maps of 1595, 1600 [Hachisuka 1953]). Mauduyt (1782) believed that the island of Nazare lay between the islands of Réunion and Madagascar. Morel (1778) thought that the “oiseau de Nazare,” which he ascribed to the birds described by Cauche and Leguat, was probably a large extinct bird, but that the banks of Nazareth were too small to support such. The “oiseau de Nazare” became an accepted species; it was included by Buffon (1770) in his Histoire naturelle and was given the scientific name Didus nazarenus by Gmelin (1788). Buffon (1770), although stating that the Oiseau de Nazare was found on the Isle of Nazare and observed by Cauche on Mauritius, thought that the name was a corruption. Morel (1778) believed that large flightless birds might have once existed on “Isle de Sable” (Tromelin) and the other islands around Mauritius, but Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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were now extinct, except perhaps on uninhabited islands or coasts. Thompson, however, referring to Didus ineptus, solitarius and nazarenus, thought, “it is not likely that the three islands of the Mauritius group possessed each a distinct type of so singular and unique a bird” (1829, 448). As Morel (1778) noted, there is no island located at 17°S to correspond with Cauche’s statement. Oudemans (1917b, 1918a), however, noted that on Portuguese maps “Ilha de Nazare” or “Ilha do Nazaret” is marked in the position now known as Île Tromelin, north of Mauritius. Oudemans (1917b) thought that there was probably another (his fourth) species of dodo on Tromelin, which was named “oiseau de Nazaret” by Cauche, the name subsequently being transferred to the Mauritian dodo. Tromelin is a small island located at 54° 31'E 15° 53'S, approximately 1.6 × 0.6 km; it is probably thus far too small to have supported a population of large flightless birds. There are many other small islands, the Cargados Carajos Shoals, in the area, but all are almost certainly too small for a viable population of dodos (see below). Ley (1962) thought that Cauche, having seen the dodo on Mauritius but considering it not to be nauseating, had given them the name of the Island of Nazareth instead. In fact, “Oiseau de Nazare” is probably a corruption of oiseau de nausée, the French translation of walghvogel (Anon. 1601; see chapter 1). Morisot might have misread Cauche’s writing, causing confusion with the name of Nazare. Morisot (or Cauche) himself refers to a French edition of Van Neck’s voyage (Anon. 1609). Today, Nazareth refers to a submarine bank north-northeast of Mauritius. Cermes Gaensen The appellation Cermesgaens, the Kermis goose, was given with reference to the Amsterdam Kermis or fair. The dodo was named thus when the sailors ate them on this occasion. Griffeendt The name Griffeendt derives from griff, a fair (cf. kermis), and eendt, a duck. Like kermisgans, it was probably a joke name, as the dodos were large and fat like the ducks and geese at the fair (Cheke and Hume 2008). The name Griffeendt, like kermisgans, was not recorded subsequent to the Gelderland voyage. The Appellation Cirne or Cisne Used for Mauritius29 In Portuguese cirne or cisne means “swan,”30 and Clusius stated that the Portuguese named Mauritius “Ilha do Cirne or Cisne . . . , that is, island of the swans [insulam Cygnæam], perhaps in order to commemorate this bird which they thought was a swan” (1605, 101). Herbert, mentioning that Mauritius was discovered by the Portuguese and named by them Do-Cerne, remarked that “after that it varied into the names Roderigo and Cygnæa, or Cerne, i.e. Swans, for so the Dutch reputed the Dodo’s” (1677, 379). This idea was followed by later authors, including Valentyn (1726), Buffon (1770),

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Lesson (1828b), and Oudemans (1917b). Latham remarked that Mauritius was formerly known as Cerne, “as the sailors found thereon a great number of white fowls without tails, which on that account they took to be Swans. Surely these birds could mean no other than our Dodo” (1801, 287), and Piston (1889) erroneously thought that dodos were called Cerna by the Portuguese, giving the name Cerné to Mauritius. However, dodos do not look like swans and the eyewitness comparison (see chapter 1) between the two was only one of size. Another suggestion was that it was named “Ilha do Cerné” by Mascaregnas in 1507, mistaking it for the island of Cerne mentioned by Pliny (Naturalis historia 6:36, 9:9 [Napier 1868; Newton and Gadow 1910]). However, Mauritius is almost certainly not the island referred to by Pliny or Hanno, which is in the Gulf of Guinea (Pitot 1905). Indeed, Morisot remarked, “I wonder how the Dutch in their navigations of 1595 say that this isle was called de Cerne, & the Latins Cignea, none but they having given it that name” (Cauche 1651, 8). Mundy stated that Mauritius was “first Found outt by the Portugalls and Named Isla das Cernas or Ile off Batts” – however, there is no Portuguese word cernas meaning bats (Temple 1919, 356). Other ideas include that the island was named after çérne the hard inner trunk of a tree, that it was named from a corruption of sirene, relating to the dugongs formerly found there, or that the island was named after the Portuguese family Ocirne (Valledor de Lozoya 2004). Codine (1868) mentioned the suggestion that the name might have been applied to Rodrigues. A far more likely suggestion is that Mauritius received its name after the ship from which it was sighted. Some authors have thought that this was the Cerné, piloted by Diogo Fernandes Pereira, under Alfonso Albuquerque, who voyaged to Malinda in 1507 (Pitot 1905; Hachisuka 1953). However, this is incorrect (North-Coombes 1980). According to North-Coombes, only three ships with the name Cisne or Cirne are suitable candidates: Cisne (departed Lisbon 1533, returned 1534; captain Gonçalo Coutinho) Cisne (departed 1535, returned 1536; under Luis Alvares de Paiva) Cirne (departed 1538, returned 1539; captain Francisco Pereira de Berredo; visited Mauritius in February 1539). (North-Coombes 1980) On a map c. 1550 in the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, collection, Mauritius is named “do Syrne” (North-Coombes 1980); on a chart of 1595 by Florenz van Langreen, it is çérne (Valledor de Lozoya 2004). Renshaw’s (1931) suggestion that the Portuguese named Mauritius Cerne after one of their ships, but changed it to Cisne due to the presence of swan-like dodos, is unlikely. Penguins Dodos were compared to penguins (pingewijns) in the journal of Reyer Cornelisz and Heyndrick Dirrecksen Jolinck stated that they were “named by the Portuguese penguins [pingwins]” (see chapter 1), which was evidently

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apterornis, Greek: apteros (άπτερος), wingless + ornis (όρνίς), bird. borbonicus, m.: from the former French name of Réunion, Ile de Bourbon. The island took its name from the Bourbon dynasty of France. borbonica, f. cucullatus, Latin: adj. hooded, cowled (late Latin) (Morell 1773). Not to be confused with cuculus, L., m., the cuckoo. didus, Latin: generic name given by Linnaeus (1758) to the dodo. imperialis, Latin: imperial. ineptus, Latin: adj. 1) unfit, improper, insufficient, impertinent, 2) silly, foolish, simple, absurd, giddy (Morell 1773). minor, Latin: 1) less, smaller, 2) meaner, lower, 3) less in degree, inferior (Morell 1773). nazarenus: from the Island of Nazare. ornithaptera, Greek: ornis (όρνίς), bird + apteros (άπτερος), wingless. pezophaps, Greek: pezos (πεξος), pedestrian + phaps (φάψ), a pigeon (Strickland 1848). raphus, Greek: generic name given to the dodo by Moehring (1752). solitarius, Latin: adj. alone, solitary, without company, private, retired (Morell 1773). solitaria, f. victoriornis: dedicated to King Vittori Emmanuel of Italy by Hachisuka (1937a), as an Italian picture (Minaggio’s) formed part of the basis for this taxon + Gr. ornis, bird.

a mistake. The Portuguese discovered the Cape penguin (Spheniscus demersus) in the sixteenth century and referred to them as Sotilicayros or Sotilicairos (see below).31 Etymology and Nomenclature It is generally assumed that Linnaeus’s name Didus is a latinization of dodo (e.g. Müller 1773; Lüttschwager 1961; Gould 1996), although Le Maout (1853) considered Didus to be the Latin translation of the Dutch dod-aers. Valledor de Lozoya (2002b) suggested that perhaps it was an error for “Dodus” or that perhaps Linnaeus was influenced by the classics and the similarity of the name to Dido, Virgil’s Queen of Carthage. Millies (1868) thought that Linnaeus may have had given the epithet ineptus on the basis of the supposed Portuguese derivation of dodo. Of birds named after the dodo there is the “dodlet,” Didunculus (Newton and Gadow 1896), its scientific name meaning “little dodo”; and those with the specific names didiformis, “of the form of the dodo” (e.g., Dinornis didiformis Owen 1844 [now Anomalapteryx didiformis]) and didinus, “resembling the dodo” (e.g., Dinornis didinus Owen 1883 [now Megalapteryx didinus]). The Et y mology of “R a phus” Buffon noted, “Sigismond Galenius, having found in Hésychius the name of Ῥάϕος, of which the application was not determined, adapted it for his 140

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pleasure to the bustard; and since, Messrs. Moehring and Brisson applied it to the dodo, without accounting for the reasons which engaged them there” (1771, 6). Gesner (1555) mentioned that raphoi were birds noted by Hesychius,32 and Jobling (2010) stated that the name raphos was given to the bustard by Galenus, probably as a misreading of outis or o¯tis, the bustard. Dumont (1826) also relayed that the name raphos was likewise applied to the bustard. Hachisuka (1953) thought that raphus was a Latinization of the Dutch reet, a vulgar term for “rump.” However, a dictionary gives reet as “a cleft, split,” making this hypothesis unlikely (Buys 1766). The bustard-related derivation of raphus is most probable, given Mœhring’s placement of the taxon adjacent to Otis, and his naming of Rhea, most probably after the mother of the gods in Greek mythology, and Cela (the cassowary), probably after the Gaulish God Celeus (The Hidden One [Trevor Worthy, pers. comm., August 15, 2008]). Following this mythological/classical theme, the derivation of Raphus following Hesychius is the most likely source. Another, less likely, possibility is that the name was derived from the Greek raphe ραφή, “a seam,” referring to the “stitched-together” appearance of the bird, with a head resembling a bird of prey or an albatross, feet like those of a gallinaceous bird, and a body like that of an ostrich. Names of the Solitaire The name solitaire for Pezophaps was presumably taken from Quesne (1689; see chapter 2), which in turn was taken from Dubois (see below). The word solitaire means “recluse” or “solitary” in French.33 The first recorded application of the name solitaire to a brevipennate bird of the Mascarenes was by Carré for the Réunion solitaire. He stated that it was named such by the inhabitants. Leunis (1860), mentioning Didus soltiarı˘, incorrectly stated that the Dutch created the name from the word Sotilicairi (see below). Although Gmelin (1788) was the first to give a scientific name to the solitaire, Buffon had previously remarked that, based on Leguat’s description, that one could make it a species belonging to Didus “which one could call Didus gracilis or such a thing” (1776, 186).

Two sources merged into one concept of a dodo formerly inhabiting Réunion – paintings of white dodos and descriptions of a white ibis. There is no osteological evidence to indicate that a dodo-like bird ever existed on Réunion (Cowles 1987; Mourer-Chauviré et al. 2006). However, subfossil remains of a previously unrecognized ibis found on Réunion have been correlated with contemporary accounts, and it has been concluded that the Réunion solitaire was, in fact, an ibis (Mourer-Chauviré et al. 1995a). It is probable that most of the writers who described the Réunion solitaire had seen neither the dodo nor the Rodrigues solitaire, due to the rarity and eventual extinction of the dodo by end of the seventeenth century and infrequency of visits to Rodrigues (Mourer-Chauviré et al. 1995a). The Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

Pseudodoxia Epidemica: The Réunion Dodos

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Dutch rarely visited Réunion (Hume and Cheke 2004), and it is unlikely they would have brought back any birds from there. Bontekoe’s description is here tentatively considered to represent either imported specimens of the Mauritian dodo or a misremembrance, as it is unlikely that the long-legged ibises were so fat they “dragged the bottom along the ground” (see above). The Réunion Solitaire (Threskiornis solitarius) A series of descriptions of a large white bird on Réunion, previously ascribed to a dodo-like bird, are actually accounts of an extinct ibis (Threskiornis solitarius). They are included here due to the former attributions. Tat ton John Tatton, master of the Pearl on its voyage to the East Indies, wrote an account of the expedition, later published by Samuel Purchas (1625). The captain of the vessel was Samuel Castleton. The Pearl sailed in August 1612 (Sainsbury 1862) and arrived at Réunion, which Tatton named “Englands Forrest” and which other crewmembers named “Pearle Iland,” on the evening of March 27, 1613. They anchored somewhere between Sainte-Marie and Sainte-Suzanne and also visited Saint-Paul, and stayed until April 1 (late summer; Cheke 1987). In June 1629 another vessel, the Hart, arrived there and one of its crewmembers, who had been aboard the Pearl with Castleton, confirmed that it was indeed the island he visited on the 1613 voyage (Valledor de Lozoya 2003). Tatton’s text mentions the avifauna, and reads, There is store of land fowle both small and great, plentie of Doues, great Parrats, and such like: And a great fowle of the bignesse of a Turkie, very fat, and so short winged, that they cannot flie, beeing white, and in a manner tame: and so are all other fowles, as hauing not been troubled nor feared with shot. Our men did beate them downe with sticks and stones. Ten men may take fowle enough to serue fortie men a day. (Purchas 1625, 331)

Although Tatton does not name the bird, it has been assumed that he was describing the Réunion solitaire. Oudemans (1917b) considered it to represent a “White Dodo.” Staub (1996) thought that Tatton’s description probably referred to a juvenile Réunion ibis (Threskiornis solitarius). In a later French version of the text, given by Rousselot de Surgy (1746– 1750), we see that some details have been added, or changed, namely that the bird was the size of a goose, that it had since been called the “geant” (probably a confusion with the geant of Leguat 1708) and that Mauritius also had many of them. Thompson (1829) also repeated these facts. There is, however, no support for these details and they must be regarded as mistakes or invented additions. It is perhaps of note that the ibis was not mentioned by Adriaen Blok, who visited Réunion in 1612. Ruelle 1667 The Réunion solitaires may be birds referred to as lourdes by Jacques Ruelle, in his “Description de l’Ile Mascareigne ou de Bourbon” (Cheke 1987; 142

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Cécile Mourer-Chauviré, pers. comm., March 3, 2008).34 However, Hébert (1999) thought it was a mistake and that a copyist had written palourdes (cockles) instead of palombes (pigeons). This is unlikely, as the log of Le Navarre uses the same name (see below). The excerpt from Ruelle’s MS (no. 1899, Muséum de Paris) reads, The herons, parrots, lourdes, woodpigeons, and partridges are there in such great quantity that one takes them by hand. A switch for weapon is enough with hunting to bring back in half an hour forty pieces of them of game of all kinds. (Lougnon 1992, 59)

Ruelle arrived at Réunion on February 26, and probably departed sometime around March 2 (Ruelle [see Lougnon 1992]). Ca rré Barthélemy Carré visited Réunion on October 20, 1667, for “un moment” en route to Surat (Hume and Cheke 2004).35 Carré accompanied François Caron, in Admiral Jacob Blanquet de la Haye’s fleet (Oliver 1897). Carré’s account was published in 1699. In it, he says, I saw in this place a kind of bird that I did not find elsewhere. It is that which the inhabitants name the solitary bird [l’Oiseau solitaire], because indeed it likes loneliness & likes only the isolated places. One never sees two or several together; it is always alone. It would resemble not badly a cock of India [turkey] if it did not have higher [that is, longer] legs. The beauty of its plumage gives pleasure to see. It is of a changeable color that verges upon yellow. The flesh is exquisite: there it makes one of the best foods of this country & could make the delight of our tables. We wanted to keep two of these birds to send them to France and to make them a present to His Majesty [Louis XIV]; but as soon as they were in the vessels they died of melancholy, without wanting to drink or to eat. (1699, 1:12–13)

It is notable that by this time, the solitaire had retreated from coastal areas to “isolated places.” The bird of Carré’s account was considered to represent a Rodrigues solitaire by Latham (1785), a “White Dodo” by Oudemans (1917b), and Ornithaptera solitaria by Hachisuka (1937a). Bell a nger de Lespinay Louis Auguste Bellanger de Lespinay, an officer on board the Sultanne in La Haye’s fleet (Oliver 1897), visited Réunion in April–June 1671 (late summer–early winter; Cheke 1987). On April 11, 1671, the fleet departed from Fort Dauphin for Réunion, and it arrived on April 27 at Saint-Denis (Lougnon 1958). Bellanger departed on June 17. Bellanger mentioned, “There is such a great quantity of birds that it is a surprising thing and difficult to believe, because they do not flee: one kills them with blows of a stick” (Lougnon 1958, 86). He noted, There is here another kind of bird that is excellent and large, which is always in the mountains all alone; one takes it by hand; it is named Solitaire (Lougnon 1958, 86).

Bellanger was also informed by the “natives” that a day or two prior to a cyclone the birds would retreat to caves and crevices until the storm was over (Staub 1996). Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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The Log of Le Breton The vessel Le Breton, also in the fleet of La Haye, visited Réunion September 15–21, 1671 (late winter; Brial 1998; although Dubois [1674] says that it arrived on September 22). Le Breton was commanded by Duclos (whose journal is preserved in the Archives de la marine, Indes orientales. Campagnes; Guët 1888). In the ship’s log, it was recorded, One often sees birds there [as] large as geese which one calls flamingos, and also the solitaires which are found in the mountains, which are of a very good taste, and [some]one gave one of them to us which had the taste of a turkey [coq d’Inde]. And to kill these birds one needs only a stick, with the exception of the flamingo, which is difficult to approach. (Lougnon 1970, 134)

It was also mentioned that the pools had many river birds. The Log of Le Navarre Solitaires may be the birds referred to as lourdes in the log of the ship Le Navarre, also of La Haye’s fleet, which visited Réunion from April 27–June 16, 1671 (Lougnon 1970). The aforementioned day [May 8] the Admiral . . . put foot on land at SainteMarie, two miles distant from Sainte-Suzanne. And were taken or killed with blows of a stick more than two hundred wood pigeons, lourdes, and other kinds of birds – which are in abundance in all the places of the aforesaid island. (Lougnon 1970, 114–115)

The following day, arriving at Saint-Denis, the admiral was informed that a guard and a musketeer had been using sticks to hunt for birds without permission. Melet 1671 Melet visited Réunion in May 1671. His account was rediscovered by Anne Sauvaget and published in 1998 (Sauvaget 1998). In it, Melet mentions the avifauna: The kinds that were most common there were wood pigeons and turtledoves, thrushes, parrots, the pepeux and small partridges, excellent large buzzards, and other kinds of birds that one calls solitaires, which are extremely good [to eat] and the beauty of their plumage is very curious, by the diversity of bright colors which shine on the wings and around their neck. (Sauvaget 1998, 132)

The “bright colors” (“couleurs éclatantes”) might represent iridescent plumage (Mourer-Chauviré et al. 1995b). Dubois Dubois, a colonist from Madagascar, accompanied La Haye’s expedition on board Le Navarre, which visited Réunion from April 27–June 22, 1671 (Dubois 1674).36 On September 4, 1672, Dubois embarked in order to return to Madagascar. In Dubois’s published account,37 under the heading “Ground birds, & their names,” is written, Solitaires, these birds are named thus because they always go alone, they are large as a large goose, & have white plumage, black at the end of the wings & the tail.

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At the tail there are feathers similar to those of the ostrich, they have the long neck & the beak made like that of the woodcocks, but larger, the legs & feet like Poullets of India. This bird is caught by the chase; one of the better game of isle. Blue birds [Oiseaux bleus], large as the Solitaires. (1674, 170)

Later, he wrote, All the birds of this isle each have their season at different times, being six months in the flat land, & six months in the mountains, from where they return; they are extremely fat & good to be eaten. I except the birds of the river & the Solitaires, partridges, & the blue birds that do not change. (175–176)

Hachisuka (1953) considered Dubois’s coloring of the wings and tail to be confusion with the supposed taxon Leguatia,38 as it did not conform with Walther’s painting (see above), ascribed by Hachisuka to the Réunion solitaire. Rothschild (1907) thought that the mention of woodcocks referred to Erythromachus (= Aphanapteryx), although there is no evidence for this. Hachisuka (1953) considered the reference to a woodcock’s beak to be a mistake for Leguatia from Réunion. Hume and Cheke (2004) speculated that becasses could refer to oystercatchers (“bécasse de mer”; Haematopus ostralegus) as much as woodcocks (Scolopax rusticola), both having a similar bill. Oudemans (1917b) thought Dubois’s description could have referred to a gaunt “White Dodo”. Dubois’s solitaire was considered to represent Ornithaptera solitaria by Hachisuka (1937a) and, for reasons not stated, Pezophaps by Greenway (1967). A MS copy of Dubois’s account, “Journal et relation des voyages faits par le Sr D. B. aux Îles Dauphine ou Madagascar et de Bourbon ou Mascarenne,” in the ZSL library, was quoted by Strickland (1844, 1848). Du Quesne Henri du Quesne aimed to establish a Protestant republic on Réunion. In 1689 he published a pamphlet, Receuil de quelques memoires servans d’instruction pour l’établissement de l’Isle d’Eden (Collection of memoirs serving as instruction for the establishment of the Isle of Eden; referring to, but not actually naming, Réunion), to encourage potential colonists to join (see also chapter 2). The pamphlet was closely based on Dubois’s report (North-Coombes 1971), and there is no evidence that Du Quesne ever visited Réunion. Quesne’s account was copied from that of Dubois, but confused the solitaires with the oiseaux bleus, stating that the former had blue plumage: Among an infinity of birds of different species which are in this isle, the best are those which one calls Solitaires, because they are usually alone; they are as large as a goose, & have blue plumage, except the extremities of the wings & tail, which are black, & where there are feathers similar to those of the ostrich; they have the long neck & the beak made like that of a woodcock, but larger, & the legs & the feet like a chicken of India [poulet d’Inde]; they are caught by the chase; are almost not able to fly because of their fatness. . . . All the birds of the river as well as the solitaires, partridges & blue birds do not leave the flat land, but all the others will nest on the mountain in certain season, from where they return extremely fat. (1689, 62, 66)

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Feuilley Jean Feuilley, pilot-engineer of the French East India Company, arrived at Réunion on May 4, 1704, on the vessel the Marchand des Indes. Feuilley was requested to make “a plan of the island and to have all the characteristics of it” (Guët 1888). He departed the island on April 18, 1705, on board the Aurore and arrived in Brittany on October 19, 1705. In “Mission à l’Ile Bourbon du Sieur Feuilley en 1704,” he wrote, Birds In Isle de Bourbon there are found quantities of birds of various species, which are named solitary birds [Oiseaux sollitaires], blue birds [oiseaux bleuffs], flamingos, cormorants, egrets, tropic birds, curlews [corbigeaux], large and small parakeets, of different color, black, gray, and green; great number of hoopoes and blackbirds. To see their differences I had best describe the qualities of each one in particular, the season and in which time they are better, and the places of the Isle where they reserve themselves. The solitaires [sollitaires] which [are] of the size of an average turkey, [are] of gray and white color. [They] live on the top of the mountains. Their food is only of worms and filth [salleté], which they take above or in the ground. One does not eat [these] birds, having extremely bad taste and [being] tough. They are thus named because of their retirement on the top of the mountains. Though there is a great number of them, one sees little of them because these places are little attended. (Feuilley 1939, 127–128)

Hébert In his “Rapport sur l’Ile Bourbon en 1708 avec les apostilles de la Compagnie des Indes,” Guillaume André d’Hébert, governor general of Pondicherry, 1708–1712, mentioned, There are also blue birds, [named] because their plumage is of a dark blue. They do not have another name. They are large as hens, are good to eat. There are also [those] as called solitaires; it is a species of small ostrich. (Hébert 1940, 50–51)

Hébert was on Réunion, at Saint-Paul and Saint-Denis, April 26–May 18, 1708 (Brial 1998). L abourdonnais François Jacques Marie Auguste Billiard, who lived on Réunion 1817–1820, found another mention of the solitaire in the archives of the island at SaintDenis (Pitot 1914). He wrote that when Réunion was claimed by the French, and the island was almost entirely covered with woods, The woods were filled with birds that were not frightened by the approach of man; one noticed the dodo or solitaire, which one drove out by the chase; one still saw some at the time of M. de La Bourdonnaye, who sent some as a rare and curious thing to one of the directors of the [French East India] company. (Billiard 1822, 261)

Bertrand-François Mahé de Labourdonnais was governor of Mauritius and Réunion 1735–1746 (Grant 1801; Strickland 1848). In 1736 he established a small settlement on Rodrigues for the collection of tortoises to be sent to Mauritius (North-Coombes 1971), and in 1737 he organized expeditions to

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Rodrigues to collect tortoises for provisions (Milne-Edwards 1875). Oliver (1897) also noted that Labourdonnais had previously sailed to the East Indies in 1709, 1713, and 1719; and in 1724 was employed by the French East India Company in the Indian Ocean, and therefore might possibly have acquired the solitaire during these periods. Sometime around 1723 or 1724 he was on Réunion and crossed to Mauritius in a small launch. He was named governor general of Mauritius and Réunion by the Compagnie des Indes in 1734, and arrived at Mauritius in June 1735. In 1740 he went back to France briefly before returning again to Mauritius. Other aspects of natural history are to be found in Labourdonnais’s administrative archives (Berlioz 1946). Ships from Réunion went to Rodrigues to collect tortoises for provisions and may have brought back solitaires as well. The fate of the bird, or even whether it arrived in Europe, is not known. Grihault (2005b) assumed that it had died en route. There is no mention of such a bird in any of Labourdonnais’s memoirs or biographies, or in any correspondence of the Compagnie (pers. obs.; Cheke and Hume 2008). The bird mentioned was considered to be a brevipennate bird of Réunion by Strickland (1848) and Berlioz (1946). It was classified as a Réunion or “White Dodo” by Rothschild (1907, 1919) and Renshaw (1938), and as a white dodo, Réunion ibis, or perhaps a Rodrigues solitaire, by Fuller (2002). It was considered to represent Pezophaps by several authors (e.g., Cheke 1987; Hume and Cheke 2004; Grihault 2005b; cf. Cheke and Hume 2008), as the Réunion solitaire was extinct by that time. However, it is possible that Billiard was indeed referring to the Réunion ibis, but got the dating wrong, thus placing it in Labourdonnais’s time. This is suggested by the context of the letter, which focuses on Réunion. Pierre Brial considered Billiard’s account doubtful owing to a lack of corroborating evidence (see Hume and Cheke 2004). Gr a nt Charles Grant reported some “Observations on the Isle of Bourbon, in 1763, by an Officer in the British Navy,” including some notes regarding a bird existing on Réunion about 1713 at Plaine des Cafres: The plain des Caffres, is formed by the summits of mountains at a very considerable elevation above the sea . . . On this elevated plain there are . . . some curious birds, which never descend to the sea-side, and who are so little accustomed to, or alarmed at, the sight of man, that they suffer themselves to be killed by the stroke of a walking-stick. (1801, 167)

Pitot (1914) and Killermann (1915) thought this might have referred to the Réunion solitaire, and Hachisuka (1953), to his white dodo (Victoriornis imperialis). However, this description almost certainly refers to the oiseaux bleus (Porphyrio cœrulescens, probably Porphyrio madagascariensis) – as Feuilley (1704) mentioned Oizeaux bleuff living in the plains above the mountains, especially in the “pleine des Caffres”; the Jesuit Brown mentioned “a large blue bird” living on the “plaine des Coffres” in 1724 (Le Gobien and Querbeuf 1780–1783, 13:313); and Jean-Baptiste de Villers, commandant of Réunion from June 1701 to August 1709, also mentioned oiseaux bleus on the “plaine des Caffres” (La Roque 1716).

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Freycinet Sauzier (1891) asserted that in the 1820s Lesson had learned from LouisHenri de Saulces de Freycinet (1777–1840, governor of Réunion 1821–1826) that a “very old negro” had heard much talk about the dronte in his childhood, and that they still survived in the district of Saint-Joseph, on the banks of the Rivière du Rampart, during the first years of his father’s life (cf. Lesson 1838). As Cheke and Hume noted, “as the bird was always called a solitaire in Réunion, asking about ‘drontes’ (i.e. dodos) might have elicited an unreliable response – the old man might equally have been talking about oiseaux bleus” (2008, 306). Freycinet had made general enquiries among the inhabitants of Réunion about drontes and the above was the only positive response. Description Plumage white with tips of wings and tail black (fig. 4.21). The changeable, shining color of the plumage suggests some form of iridescence. Long neck, ostrich-like tail (cf. the breeding plumage of the back of Threskiornis aethiopicus). Long legs. Shorter and less curved bill than other threskiornithids (probably an adaptation to feed in harder soil of the forest floor [Staub 1996]). No gastrolith was reported, despite the bird being eaten (Staub 1996). It was able to fly, as also indicated by its osteology (although the presence of an accessory foramen between the alular and major metacarpal of the carpometacarpus suggests some diminishment in flight capability [MourerChauviré et al. 1995b]). It was of similar size to T. aethiopicus but heavier, with a larger head and more robust beak (Mourer-Chauviré et al. 1999) and approximately 90 cm tall (Probst 1997). Mourer-Chauviré et al. (1995a) noted similarities with T. aethiopicus (found in Madagascar and Aldabra) and T. spinicollis. It might have had a seasonal fat cycle (cf. Cheke and Hume 2008), with periods when it was less able to fly (it was reported to be fat in March–April [late summer]), although, according to Dubois (1674) it did not exhibit change. Diet: worms, soil insects (Lowther 2002). A mandible fragment found in 1994 at Marais de l’Ermitage, (Muséum de Saint-Denis, MHN-RUNFE-O-1872), 12.5 cm long, is proportionately shorter and less curved than in related ibises (Mourer-Chauviré et al. 1995b). Habitat: originally near the coast (Cheke [1987] thought that Tatton probably described solitaires near the coast). Later only found in the mountain forests. Ex tinction François Martin, who visited Réunion in October 1667, noted, “during the stay that these people made there in the island, they made there a disorder, which is not believable, on the flock, on the game and in the gardens. We saw neither geese nor water hens on the pool [l’étang] of Saint-Paul which was formerly completely covered with them” (North-Coombes 1979, 131). The solitaire was hunted and eaten. It had probably retreated to, or had become restricted to, the uplands by the mid-seventeenth century; neither Antoine Thoreau, who walked around the island in 1656, nor Souchu de 148

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4.21.  A reconstruction of the Réunion ibis (Threskiornis solitarius).

Rennefort who visited in 1665, mentioned it (North-Coombes 1979). There is no mention of the Réunion solitaire by Dellon (1685), Brown, or La Roque (1716). Bory de Saint Vincent made an unsuccessful search for them in 1801 (Bory de St. Vincent 1804; see above). He even offered a reward to anyone able to give verifiable reports of it (Valledor de Lozoya 2003). Pigs were released in 1629. Rats were introduced to Réunion by the mid1670s, and cats by 1703 (Cheke and Hume 2008). The ibis probably survived in the lowlands of the east until the 1670s. Feral cats probably predated the bird and pursued it in the uplands where pigs had not spread (Cheke and Hume 2008). Cheke and Hume postulated that by the time humans settled at Saint-Paul ibises in the west had withdrawn to the uplands, where they eluded pigs, adding that they “may have changed their diet as their habitat became restricted, rendering their flesh less palatable” (2008, 85). Despite Jacob de la Haye’s banning the hunting of game in 1674 (the ban was revoked soon after), the ibis declined. According to Cheke and Hume, “after 1705 there seems to have been a dramatic crash” in the population (2008, 85); the Réunion solitaire probably became extinct sometime shortly after 1708. Subfossil Rem ains Charles Coquerel, writing about Réunion, reported, “the island contains many caves which have never been visited from the paleontological point of view, and which may perhaps contain the remains of lost birds” (1866, 84), in particular the Réunion solitaire and the oiseau bleu. A distal end of a tarsometatarsus found in 1974 by Bertrand Kervazo, at Grotte des Premiers Français, south of Saint-Paul, was considered by Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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Cowles (1987) to belong to an undescribed stork (Ciconia sp. nov.). Other “ciconiiform” bones found at Grotte de l’Autel in 1980 by Roger Bour were reidentified by Mourer-Chauviré and Moutou (1987) as ibis. In late 1987 Anthony Cheke informed François Moutou that the ibis might be identical to the Réunion solitaire (Hume and Cheke 2004). Mourer-Chauviré and Moutou (1987) named the ibis Borbonibis latipes. It was later found to belong to Threskiornis and renamed Threskiornis solitarius (Mourer-Chauviré et al. 1995a).39 Threskiornis solitarius is recorded from Grotte des Premiers Français (where the first French colonists supposedly dwelled), Grotte de l’Autel, and Marais de l’Ermitage, Réunion (Mourer-Chauviré et al. 1999). Other bones were dated to 186–391 ce (Marais de l’Ermitage) and 1458–1633 ce (Mourer-Chauviré et al. 1996). Other species known from subfossil remains were described in historical records, suggesting that the ibis was as well. The abundance (20% of bird remains) of ibis bones at Marais de l’Ermitage suggests that they were once common, at least on the northwest coast. Courtenay Walter Bennett, the British Consul at Réunion, wrote on June 10, 1896, “Some years ago bones were found by a Creole at Possession and taken to the Curé, who blessed them and had them buried in the cemetery before they could be properly examined. It was thought that they might belong to an Oiseau de Nazareth (that is, a Didine Bird), but the Curé either cannot or will not point out where they were buried” (quoted in Oliver 1897, xxix). Nothing further is known of these remains. The White Dodos (Raphus cucullatus) Aside from Bontekoe’s (Saeghman’s) illustration, discussed elsewhere, none of the pictures referred to the Réunion solitaire, or any dodo species living on Réunion, have any provenance relating to that island. The following are illustrations depicting Raphus cucullatus with white plumage. These are most likely imaginative depictions (see below). Salomon Savery’s engraving, discussed elsewhere (see chapter 3), was considered by Oudemans (1917b) to represent a “White Dodo” owing to the following characters: 1) mouth slit extending far beyond the eye; 2) upper rhamphotheca with a free caudal edge, with a “tooth” as found in falcons; 3) nostril indistinct; 4) lack of banding on the rhamphotheca; 5) lower rhamphotheca spoon-shaped, not hooked; 6) tongue short; 7) first four primaries pointing downward and forward; 8) wing feathers lancet-shaped, slack; 9) tail feathers large, ostrich-like (seven, although “there must be” eight); 10) legs and toes short and thick. The engraving, however, was made after Savery-Crocker and undoubtedly depicts Raphus cucullatus. Holstey n’s a nd Withoos’s Dodos There are a group of paintings by Pieter Holsteyn and Pieter Withoos depicting white dodos. Of these, the three Holsteyn dodo pictures are all very similar (see below). Rothschild (1919) stated that there were two pictures of the white dodo by Holsteyn and two by Withoos, and that these were painted from an adult female bird brought to Amsterdam between 1670 and 1693. Similarly, 150

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Anon. (1937) thought that Holsteyn probably used a captive bird brought to Amsterdam in 1626 as his model. Hume and Cheke (2004) and Hume and Prys-Jones (2005) suggested that Holsteyn and Withoos either copied the Savery-Dahlem dodo (see chapter 3) or had access to the same specimen. The latter, at least, is very unlikely, due to the differences between the paintings and Savery’s use of artistic license. Valledor de Lozoya (2003) also thought that Holsteyn-Teylers might have been a copy of a work by Savery or another artist. It is thought that Withoos copied his dodo from Holsteyn’s work (Ziswiler 1996; Fuller 2002; Hume and Cheke 2004). However, Den Hengst (2003) noted that as Withoos was the more skilled artist it has been suggested that it was Holsteyn who copied him. Holsteyn the Younger and Withoos knew of each other’s work. Holsteyn’s dodos are so similar that they must be copies of each other, or at least made from the same study. The white dodo images may have been copied from an uncolored original, such as Van-der-Venne, and then colored using the artist’s imagination (cf. Walther’s illustration; see above), perhaps with inspiration from the coloration of Savery-Dahlem. It is improbable that these images were based on a real bird. Even if they were based on actual birds, the subjects are not true albinos as their irides and nails are pigmented (cf. Savery-Dahlem). The Holsteyn dodo paintings are currently attributed to Pieter II Holsteyn (Den Hengst 2003; Hume and Cheke 2004; Plomp 1997; contra Jackson 1999). The style fits with other bird paintings of the period 1670–1700, and a 1621 work of Holsteyn the Elder depicts a different style of bird illustration (Den Hengst 2003; Hume and Cheke 2004). The date of c. 1638 generally attributed to the images is therefore wrong (Hume and Cheke 2004). Holstey n-Tey lers A watercolor, White Dodo, is currently in the Teylers Museum, Haarlem (plate 13; fig. 4.22). On December 30, 1865, Volkert Simon Maarten van der Willigen of Haarlem read a paper before the Koninklijke Academie van Wetenschappen (Afdeeling Natuurkunde) and exhibited a copy of a colored picture of a dodo by Pieter Holsteyn from a bird book of paintings belonging to a Haarlem art enthusiast (Van der Willigen 1866). The book, containing over 100 bird pictures, was an oblong folio bound in parchment (Renshaw 1938). Van der Willigen noted that there must have been a second book with paintings by Holsteyn in the Netherlands, also containing a picture of the dodo, but that its whereabouts were unknown. J. J. Verwijnen, librarian at Haarlem, wrote to A. C. Oudemans on June 9, 1916, stating that Holsteyn’s bird book was at the time the property of the municipality of Haarlem, but that there was no dodo plate. A week later, Oudemans received further information from Verwijnen, that Jan Louis van der Burch (1811–1886), burgemeester of Haarlemmerliede and Spaarnwoude, owned Holsteyn’s bird book, which consisted of loose plates. The book, containing the other bird plates, came to Van der Burch’s sister, Miss Francona Antoinetta Conradina van der Burch (1813–1888), who left it to the Haarlem Gemeente Archief in 1888; her niece’s husband Adriaan Justus Enschedé, was the executor. As for the dodo picture, Van der Burch had given it to Adriaan van der Willigen Pz. of Haarlem (1810–1876) c. 1865 (Plomp 1997). Van der Willigen’s collections Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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4.22.  Outlines of white dodos: a) HolsteynVan-der-Feltz; b) Holsteyn-NHM; c) HolsteynTeylers; d) Withoos-ILN; e) Withoos-NHM.

were sold in 1874–1879, but there was no mention of a dodo plate in the catalogs. Dr. Van der Willigen wrote to Oudemans on June 24, 1916, that the Holsteyn dodo plate was in the property of his sister, Christina Abigael van der Willigen of Laren (Noord-Holland). On Oudemans’s recommendation, Christina van der Willigen donated the dodo plate, along with another depicting a duck (Anas boschas) with a pathologic bill, to Teylers Stichting, Haarlem, in 1916. Six of the pictures bear dates between 1621 and 1656, although, these plates being loose, a chronological order cannot be established (Plomp 1997). Oudemans (1917b) suggested a date of 1638 for the dodo image. Oudemans (1917b) thought that the white paint had become gray due to the action of sulfur; Hachisuka (1953) surmised that the slight yellow coloration on the lower back and nape was probably due to staining or age. Van der Willigen Pz., who possessed the dodo picture, thought it was drawn from life from the Amsterdam dodo (Van der Willigen 1866).

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Holstey n-NHM Another watercolor of a white dodo is in the collections of the NHM, London (plate 12; fig. 4.22). The picture was purchased in a sale at the saleroom, Doelenstraat, Amsterdam (collection “S,” one of 145 bird illustrations by various artists), on December 7, 1908, by Hans Wertheim, who sold it to the Trustees of the BMNH on January 19, 1937 (Anon. 1937; Renshaw 1938; Ann Datta, pers. comm. to Pierre Brial, 1998 [see Brial 2006]). According to Jackson, it was “acquired from an Amsterdam dealer who said it was in a collection of different birds by Pieter Holsteyn the elder” (1999, 291). The dodo measures 6 cm high, 8.5 cm across, and 9 cm transversely beak to tail (Paul Cooper, pers. comm., October 15, 2008). Anon. (1937) merely described it as a picture of the “White Dodo” (Didus solitarius), whereas Renshaw (1938) thought the illustration depicted a female, the first “White Dodo” (Apterornis solitarius) brought alive to Holland (and probably to Europe) in Amsterdam in 1626. Jackson (1999) labeled it the “White dodo of Réunion.” Holstey n-Va n-der-Feltz The dodo, in watercolor, is illustrated in one of two oblong-folio, parchment-bound books with fine gilding and entitled “Aves aquatiles ad vivum eleganter depictae a Petro Holsteyn celeberrimo Pictore” (plate 12; fig. 4.22). These contain over 180 bird illustrations. An undated picture of the dodo said to be by Pieter Holsteyn, was stated to be in the possession of A. van der Willige [sic] at Haarlem (Newton 1875–1889). A. C. Oudemans contacted A. van der Willigen at Velp, son of the Haarlem art expert, but his father had died and he was unable to provide Oudemans with any information regarding the dodo image. On contacting the firm Frederik Muller & Co. of Amsterdam, Oudemans found that Cornelis Hofstede de Groot at The Hague had previously sent a volume of Holsteyn’s drawings for appraisal. De Groot notified Oudemans (on May 24, 1916) that the album was in the possession of Mr. A. A. van der Feltz in Amsterdam. The images were formerly part of the inheritance of Jan Hendrik Baron van Lijnden van Lunenburg (1765–1854) in Utrecht. Arend Anne Baron van der Feltz (1862–1940) of Amsterdam had married into the family, and he wrote to Oudemans on May 18, 1916, that the books were indeed in his possession – including the plate of the dodo, referred to as Dodaers. On May 27, 1916, Oudemans examined the painting and had a photograph made. Anon. (1937) mentioned the Holsteyn dodo picture as being in Amsterdam but after 1940 the whereabouts of the dodo picture were unknown (Valledor de Lozoya 2003).40 However, the illustrations came to light once again. According to Den Hengst, they belonged to “an old [Dutch] baroness who hid them in a pan under her sink cupboard, only to have them found by her children and sold to an antique dealer in The Hague, where the pictures were copied. Not long afterwards, the books were sold to an anonymous buyer in London” (2003, 99). The dodo picture was in the possession of antiquarian bookseller Meijer Elten when Den Hengst photographed it, but the family sold the

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works after Elten’s death (Jan den Hengst, pers. comm., December 7, 2007). Elten had purchased the books from Rutgers van Rozenburg, who had inherited them from the baroness (Jan den Hengst, pers. comm., September 18, 2008). Later, the two volumes were to be found in the possession of Adolph Alfred Taubman, former chairman of Sotheby’s. No date is given in either Vogel boek, but Oudemans (1917b) thought it probable that the illustration was derived from the same bird as in the Teylers image, and dated it to around 1638. The dodo measures 9 cm in length (Oudemans 1917b). A nother Dodo Painting by Holstey n Another dodo painting was stated to be by Holsteyn the Elder (but see above) and said to be in the Netherlands, also in a vogel boek, but its whereabouts are unknown (Oudemans 1917b). Withoos-NHM A watercolor of a white dodo by Pieter Withoos is in the collections of the NHM, Tring (plate 13; fig. 4.22). The watercolor is one of two pictures that formerly belonged to Mr. C. Dare of Clatterford, Isle of Wight (they were erroneously thought to have been in the Carisbrooke Castle collection [Newton 1868a; Killermann 1915; Rothschild 1919]). The pictures were purchased by Rothschild from Dare’s son, Walter C. Dare, in summer 1918 (Rothschild 1919). Rothschild subsequently bequeathed the dodo picture to the NHM (Warr 1996). The picture is known to have been in the Dare family since at least the 1850s (MS letters: BMNH 1357/18). On June 14, 1918, following the death of his father, Walter C. Dare wrote to the secretary of the NHM that he had for sale a pair of watercolors by “a Dutch artist,” one of which depicted a white dodo.41 He added, “If any one on behalf of the Museum shall care to see the picture with the view to requesting them I should be pleased to shew them.” Annotations state that the letter was answered by Sidney Frederic Harmer on June 21, and that a copy was also sent to Rothschild. The Museum declined: Harmer noted in an internal memorandum to Charles Edward Fagan, dated June 20, 1918 (BMNH 1357/18), that its acquisition was not of primary importance to the Museum, and that Rothschild might be tempted. Fagan replied that he concurred that it ought not be purchased, and asked Harmer to respond (Hume and Cheke 2004). Another note, later added to the letter, gives the artist as Pieter Withoos and remarks, “This picture was purchased by Lord Rothschild for his Museum at Tring. June 28th 1918.” The other birds depicted are red-breasted goose (Branta ruficollis), female or immature male red-breasted merganser (Mergus serrator), black guillemot (Uria grylle), ?female tufted duck (Aythya fuligula), male goldeneye (Bucephala clangula), female widgeon (Anas penelope), and spoonbill (Platalea leucorodia). The companion picture by Withoos depicts a sheldrake, shoveler, female tufted duck, smew, young great northern diver, widgeon, and two other ducks – but no dodo (Rothschild 1919). The dodo measures 100 mm from the beak to extremity of the tail and 87 mm from the top of the head to the bottom of the foot (Alison Harding, pers. comm., March 19, 2009). The bill of the dodo is rounded, as if 154

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4.23.  Withoos-ILN. The original engraving is “an accurate copy of the same size as the original” (Anon. 1856b, 303).

trimmed to protect its keepers and visitors (cf. coping conducted by falconers [Newton 1868a, a view not supported by Oudemans 1917b or Hachisuka 1953]). This suggested to some (e.g., Newton 1868a; Valledor de Lozoya 2003) that it lived in an aviary or menagerie. However, as the dodo is most probably not drawn from life, the shape of the bill is probably imagined or inexpertly drawn. Despite this, some have thought it to have been painted from a live bird brought to Amsterdam in about 1670 (e.g., Rothschild 1919; Warr 1996), probably from the same supposed bird, kept alive at Amsterdam, as featured in Salomon Savery’s engraving (Newton 1868a). Painting by Withoos Feat ured in the Illustrated London News (Withoos-ILN) An undated watercolor with a dodo and other birds was featured in the Illustrated London News in 1856 (Anon. 1856b; see figs. 4.22 and 4.23). The picture was said to be by Withoos. In the article, William W. Coker, of Hortley Lodge, Parkstern, Dorset, remarked, “When I was staying with a friend a few days ago he showed me some old drawings, which he told me were made by an artist in Persia, representing birds of that country. Amongst them was one containing five or six species of water-fowl, all of them common to the north of Europe and Asia, well drawn and accurately coloured, although somewhat faded by age” (Anon. 1856b, 303). The dodo is shown behind a red-breasted goose (Branta ruficollis). John Gould considered the dodo to be an albino or white variety (Anon. 1856b), as did Oudemans (1917b). Withoos never visited Persia (Oudemans 1917b), but Hachisuka (1953) suggested that the picture might have been kept with others of Persian origin. Millies (1868) even thought it very probable that the stay of the Persian envoy on Mauritius in 1626 (see chapter 5) explained the Withoos-ILN dodo image. The other birds were probably painted from menagerie specimens. Sterland (1867) examined the painting and possessed a photograph of it. He Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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stated that there was a monogram “P.W.” in the left-hand corner and that the six other birds depicted included a tufted duck (Aythya fuligula), spoonbill, and merganser (cf. Withoos-NHM). It has been suggested that the two paintings, Withoos-NHM and Withoos-ILN, may be the same. This may be, but it is not provable at present and other artists painted paintings very similar to each other (e.g., Holsteyn [see above] and Savery) and there do appear to be differences between the two (compare plate 13 and fig. 4.23). Newton (1868a) believed the two to be the same work, on the basis of articles by Sterland (1867) and Anon. (1856b). However, Sterland (1867) attested to the accuracy of the engraving, which suggests that they were indeed different. Oudemans (1917b) also considered them to be distinct. The current whereabouts of the painting are unknown.

4.24.  White dodos combined with the outline skeleton: a) Holsteyn-Van-der-Feltz; b) Withoos-ILN; c) Withoos-NHM.

Lubach a nd Others Douwe Lubach (1866) mentioned that he thought he had seen an old watercolor of the dodo, distinct from Withoos-NHM, in Holland, which depicted a white or very light yellow bird. He might have seen an already-noticed illustration (e.g., by Holsteyn, Withoos or Saftleven) or an unknown work, or perhaps have been mistaken. No other record of the image is known. Oudemans (1917b) also reported that P. de Bruyne of Middelburg had seen a vogelstuk picture of a white dodo c. 1902 in the staircase hall of the Wallace Collection in London. The dodo was fat, with a yellow beak and 156

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ostrich-like tail, and was supposedly identical to one of Withoos’s watercolors. However, there is no mention of any image of a white dodo, or even any pictures by Holsteyn or Withoos, in the collection catalogs (pers. obs.; Rebecca Wallis, pers. comm., December 16, 2010). Rothschild (1919) also stated that there was another painting by Withoos in Holland, but this has not been found (Hume and Cheke 2004). Hume and Cheke noted that “Rothschild was sometimes careless with detail, and gave no source for his claim about the Withoos; he may have been referring to a Holsteyn image” (2004, 72). The Evolution of the Myth of the Réunion Dodos The myth of dodos on Réunion was developed by eighteenth-century writers such as Buffon (see above), who stated that dodos were to be found on both Mauritius and Réunion (Bourbon). Billiard (1822) further added to the confusion, remarking on the presence of “the dodo or solitaire” on the island. In his report, Blainville (see Audouin et al. 1830), in contrast, concluded that there was no evidence that the dodo lived in Réunion, as was generally thought. However, this did not deter other authors. The Belgian ornithologist Michel Edmond de Sélys-Longchamps (1848a) proposed the generic name Apterornis for the Réunion solitaire. Along with A. solitarius, the genus also included the species cœrulescens and bonasia (the latter two were later considered to be rails by other authors). He distinguished Apterornis from Didus and Pezophaps on the basis of its long slender bill and longer legs. However, Apterornis was preoccupied by Apterornis Owen 1848, the name given to an extinct rail-like bird from New Zealand. Strickland noted that differences between the descriptions “gives us a clear proof that a second species of the same group of birds inhabited that island” (1848, 59). Hermann Schlegel (1854a, 1845b) gave a reconstruction of the Réunion solitaire based on descriptions (fig. 4.25). Schlegel (1866) considered the Réunion solitaire to be a struthious bird, along with the dodo and solitaire. Bolle (1856) thought that perhaps dodos existed on both Mauritius and Réunion, but managed to survive to a later period on the latter. Coker stated that Withoos-ILN differred “considerably from that which formerly inhabited the Isles of Bourbon and Mauritius in the form and colour of the beak, wings, and tail plumes, as well as in the texture and colour of the plumage, but still bearing a strong general resemblance to it” (Anon. 1856b, 303). Newton (1868a) reasserted the concept of the Réunion white dodo. He characterized the white dodo as being similar in shape to the Mauritian dodo but with white plumage, with some yellow, and the first four primaries pointing downward and forward. As Dubois’s description of the bill did not fit with this Newton considered it to be a mistake, or that becasses was a false reading. Salvadori followed Newton, giving his diagnosis of Didus borbonicus as “plumage white, with some admixture of yellow; first four primaries directed downwards and forwards” (1893, 632). Von Frauenfeld (1868b) suggested that it was possible that the bird of Tatton and Carré was the same as the “Nazarene bird” (Nazarenvogel). Whilst stating that Réunion possessed birds “more or less close to the dodo,” Milne-Edwards (1869–1871) readily noted that there were no skeletal Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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4.25.  Schlegel’s reconstruction of the Réunion solitaire, Didus apterornis (Schlegel 1854b, 343).

remains. He thought that one of these birds was probably represented by Withoos-NHM. Dickens stated that Réunion had “a white dodo, of which there is a picture extant; also a solitary quite different in colour from that of Rodriguez” (1878, 177). Rothschild commissioned Frederick William Frohawk to make watercolors of the Réunion dodo (Rothschild 1907, pls. 25, 25a), one based on data from Withoos and the other from Dubois. He attributed the color differences between Dubois’s description and Withoos’s painting to the latter’s probably being an albinistic bird. He further considered the forwardpointing primaries to be due to injury. The myth went so far that Lydekker (1916) referred two skeletons at Cambridge to the species. Oudemans (1917b) considered there to be only one type of didine bird on Réunion (Apterornis Sélys-Longchamps = Ornithaptera Bonaparte 1854) as none of the writers mentioned more than one, and that inaccuracies, seasonal differences, with fat and thin periods, and sexual dimorphism and molting may have led to differences between descriptions. This bird, he thought, was probably more closely related to the Mauritius dodo than to the Rodrigues solitaire. He noted several characters for the “White Dodo,” including a “tooth” on the upper beak; a smaller, higher, and more forwardly placed nostril; lack of transverse bands over the rhamphotheca; free hind edge of the rhamphotheca in the male; and long slack remiges. His descriptions were as follows: Male: sharp hooked beak with a black distal end [white: Renshaw 1938]; dark banding on the yellow upper rhamphotheca, the rest of the bill white; cucullus bearing bands of feathers; head and neck red-brown and yellowish; ball of ostrich-like tail feathers passing into the welldeveloped subcaudal coverts and circumanal feathers; cream-colored breast blending to a light yellow on the rest of the body. Female: beak less hooked, sometimes terminating in a blunt or rounded end; no banding on the rhamphotheca; beak gray-greenish or light ocher, the rest of the bill being grayish or greenish; no cucullus band; no downy feathers on the head; the whole body cloth-white; the wings golden yellow; at least six rectrices like those of the silver pheasant (Gennaeus nycthemerus); no developed circumanal feathers. Out of the breeding period they were dirty yellowish or dirty white and of more erect stance; the remiges were directed backward (Oudemans 1917b, 1918a). The hooked bill, red-brown coloring of the head and neck, gold color of the wings, ornamental tail feathers, fatness, and hanging wing were present only during mating time, March to September. Oudemans thought, as with the Mauritius dodo, that fattening led to paralysis of the wing muscles, causing the wing to hang. He also attributed a shorter beak to younger individuals. He even suggested there might be another dodo species on Tromelin – this is discussed elsewhere (see above). Hachisuka recognized two sympatric species on Réunion: Ornithaptera solitaria and Victoriornis imperialis (fig. 4.26). He (1937a) created Victoriornis imperialis for the “White Dodo,” named after Vittorio Emmanuel of Italy. He characterized it as having a broader bill than the Mauritian dodo, with a rounded tip and no evidence of shedding.

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4.26.  Reconstructions of Hachisuka’s white dodo (Victoriornis imperialis), top, and Réunion solitaires (Ornithaptera solitaria [male right, female left]), bottom. (Hachisuka 1953, pls. x, xv, respectively).

Renshaw (1938) followed Lydekker’s (1916) skeletal assignment and even created two reconstructions of the “White Dodo” (fig. 4.27). Renshaw, following Oudemans (1917b), gave the following characters for the “White Dodo”: gape does not extend beyond the eye; tongue shorter than in the Mauritian dodo; wing feathers elongated, narrow, pointed and supple, directed downward. Berlioz (1946), accepting the species Raphus solitarius as valid, noted nonetheless that caution should be taken regarding the Réunion solitaire, as it was known only from illustrations and accounts, not bones. The fact that Tatton, Bellanger, and Bontekoe described very fat birds, whereas Carré and Dubois described “tall athletic birds” (Cheke 1987, 39), led Hachisuka (1953) to separate the Réunion birds into two species, despite no visitor describing more than one large brevipennate bird. Hachisuka (1953) recognized the “White Dodo” (Victoriornis imperialis [Tatton, Bontekoe, Holsteyn, Withoos]) and the Réunion solitaire (Ornithaptera solitaria Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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[L’Estrange, Carré, Dubois, Vere “dodo,” Minaggio, Walther, Florence Codex dodo]). The Réunion dodo had at least eleven primaries and at least five tail feathers, with decomposed webs. He described the Réunion solitaire thus: Male: head of drab color, neck and body slightly darker; iris black, “irid” pale blue; upper mandible dark brown; feathered face; nostril surrounded by light blue line; legs and feet dark; wing, thigh and tail between benzo-brown and hare-brown; tail ostrich-like. Female: overall color white, with each feather having a faint grayish edge; naked face; bill and face yellow; supraorbital area vermillion; iris and extremity of mandible black; wings dark gray; wings and tail ostrichlike; legs and feet yellow. In reviewing Hachisuka’s work, Storer suggested that the “White Solitaire . . . may have been nothing more than a ‘gaunt’ form of the White Dodo” (1953, 510). Day (1989) followed Hachisuka (1953) and recognized the Réunion solitaire (Ornithaptera solitarius) and the “White Dodo” (Victoriornis imperialis) – ascribing Tatton’s and Bontekoe’s descriptions, Labourdonnais’s bird, and Withoos’s dodos to the latter. Hutchinson (1954) thought that the Réunion dodo might be in part fabulous. He also noted that it might be difficult to account for the origin of two sympatric dodo species on Réunion as postulated by Hachisuka. However, he speculated that if a white dodo existed on Réunion it should be known as Raphus solitarius or Ornithaptera solitaria. Lüttschwager remarked, “At present .  .  . a third special species [on Réunion] cannot be justified” (1961, 26). Greenway, however, accepted Raphus solitarius as a valid species, stating that “there can be little doubt . . . that there once lived on Réunion a bird very like the dodo” (1967, 123). He considered the forward- and downward-pointing wing feathers, seen in the illustrations, perhaps to be the result of an accident, and added, “the dodo of Réunion may simply have been an albinistic form. Whatever may be thought of the distinctiveness of the population, it did once exist” (124). Luther (1970) considered Raphus solitarius to be a hypothetical form, whereas Brodkorb (1971) accepted it as a valid species. Storer remarked that “Discounting the possibility of rafting between Reunion and Mauritius (95 miles [152.9 km]) or Rodrigues (over 450 miles [724.2 km]), one must assume that the large white bird or birds of Reunion were no more closely related to the Dodo or the Solitaire than each was to each other. I predict that if and when remains of such birds are found on Reunion, they will prove to be unrelated either to the Dodo or the Solitaire, and I would not be surprised if they proved to be derived from rails or some group other than pigeons . . . the large flightless bird (or birds) reported from Reunion must be considered of uncertain taxonomic position until actual remains of it (or them) are found; and anyone investigating the systematic relationships of the Dodo and the Solitaire should consider them independently as separate phyletic lines” (1970, 370). Olson responded that he “would be most surprised if the didine bird of Reunion proves to be anything other than columbiform” (1971, 70). 160

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4.27.  Renshaw’s reconstructions of the white dodo, after Holsteyn, De Hondecoeter, and Van Ravesteyn: adult male and subadult male (Renshaw 1938).

Murton included the Réunion solitaire (Raphus solitarius) in the family Raphidae and noted, “A fourth species, the white dodo (named as Victoriornis imperialis), may have existed on Réunion but, if it existed, was probably a colour phase of the Réunion solitaire” (1974, 68). Halliday remarked that no bones of either bird [described by Hachisuka] have been found on Réunion, and since many of the contemporary accounts are contradictory and may reflect a confusion in the minds of their writers between different birds and different islands, we should perhaps be sceptical about the existence of such birds on Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

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Réunion. The persistent accounts of white birds may indicate that somewhere in the Mascarenes there existed albino individuals of either the Dodo or the Solitaire. (1978, 66)

Walker (1978) considered the Réunion solitaire (Raphus solitarius) to be “well authenticated,” but considered the “White dodo” (Victoriornis imperialis) as probably invalid. North-Coombes (1979) thought that Réunion had both a white dodo and a solitaire, and considered the accounts of the Réunion solitaire by Dubois and Carré to be probably based on captured specimens and hearsay evidence. Cheke (1987) and Fuller (2002) thought that the images could represent an albinistic Mauritian dodo. Fuller remarked, “That a dodo-like species once lived on Réunion . . . can hardly be doubted” (1987, 124). He postulated that Withoos might have used a “badly stuffed specimen” as a model. Ziswiler (1996) postulated that white or speckled dodos possibly arose fairly regularly within the population, and survived because the dodo had no need for camouflage. Plomp (1997) attributed Holsteyn’s, Withoos’s and Saftleven’s dodos to the Réunion solitaire. Brial (1998) thought that the differences between the dodos of Holsteyn, Withoos, and Walther and those known to be of the Mauritian dodo were too great to be explained by depigmentation alone, and that the inaccuracy of, and contradictions between, texts provided possibility for a species other than the ibis. Janoo (2000) rejected the idea of “didine-like” birds on Réunion, on the basis of lack of fossil evidence, and remarked that the formalization of Victoriornis imperialis Hachisuka 1937 and Raphus solitaria Hachisuka 1937 was unverifiable. Fuller also considered the Réunion white dodo to be based on “questionable evidence.” He thought the paintings probably depicted “aberrant” Mauritian dodos or were “inadequate (perhaps fanciful) copies” of earlier images of the dodo (Fuller 2000, 385). However, he still held out hope for the white dodo, stating that it was not entirely certain that the ibis solution was the answer. He considered that the artists used much artistic license: “We have no idea of the intentions of the artists involved and they may have produced ‘white dodos’ simply because they wanted to” (2002, 168). However, he added that the discovery of ibis bones on Réunion does not negate the possibility of a dodo on the island: “There is a small – very small – amount of evidence to suggest” that a white dodo might have existed on Réunion, “but until such time as skeletal material is uncovered, the creature must be considered mythical” (172). Even if it did exist, however, it would probably have looked very different from the Mauritian dodo (contra Rothschild, Hachisuka), having evolved separately (cf. Pezophaps). Valledor de Lozoya (2002a, 2003) also suggested confusion with the white pelican (also seen in Savery’s paintings and those of Francken and Ruthart, and present in menageries) might have been the origin. Indeed, Anselmus Boëtius de Boodt (1550–1632) had painted a pelican in a zoological album, to which the names “Walg vogel” and “Dronte” were later added (fig. 4.28). Valledor de Lozoya (2003) suggested that the white color of the dodos was due to a color phase, or age differences – that is to say, the 162

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white form was either a juvenile or a fully mature bird. Other suggestions by Valledor de Lozoya (2002a, 2003) included an origin from a faded or bleached museum specimen, stuffed birds sometimes fading after only a year, the artistic license taken by Savery, or confusion with the Rodrigues solitaire. Finally, he concluded that the “Raphus solitarius, Didus borbonicus or Victoriornis imperialis never existed” (2003, 209). Den Hengst, referring to nomenclature, remarked, “The white dodo has become one of those rare animals whose name has been fought over even before its existence has been proved. The evidence for the white dodo is so flimsy, that we must feel obliged to reluctantly scrap this lovely creature from our checklist” (2003, 101). Pinto-Correia considered the white dodo to be real, but ascribed only Tatton’s and Bontekoe’s descriptions to it. She added that two white dodos were sent to Europe about 1640 and 1685, where they might have been painted by Dutch artists. Referring to the “géant” of Leguat, she erroneously stated that Leguat “mentions for the first time what probably was the white dodo of Réunion. Leguat’s first reference to these birds [was] based only on hearsay” (2003, 115). Hume and Cheke (2004) and Hume (2006) postulated that the white dodo of Savery-Dahlem “gave rise to all of the subsequent written and illustrative documentation for a supposed White Dodo inhabiting Réunion” (Hume 2006, 73). This is very unlikely: the myth of the white dodo as a distinct taxon on Réunion was a nineteenth-century concept, and the idea ignores the descriptions now known to refer to the ibis. Furthermore, Holsteyn’s and Withoos’s dodos bear more similarity to Van der Venne’s image than to Savery’s. Recently, Nicholls thought, incorrectly, that some pictures of “white dodo-like birds” might have been of Threskiornis solitarius, whereas others “may have portrayed an albino dodo, perhaps singled out because of its unusual colour” (2006, 139). Grihault (2007) continued the myth of the white dodo of Réunion, even suggesting that Savery-Dahlem might represent a white Réunion dodo. The formation of the myth of the white dodo, at least as a distinct species, was due to nineteenth- and twentieth-century scientists (such as Newton, Rothschild, Oudemans, and Hachisuka). The concept of three species of dodo was established in the eighteenth century with the hooded dodo, solitaire, and Nazarene dodo. As the Nazarene dodo was found to be based on an error by Cauche (see chapter 1), the white dodo replaced it as the third species of dodo. Wishing to contribute further to dodological knowledge, some authors invented taxa on scant and dubious bases. The error was even continued into modern times (e.g., Gibbs et al. 2001; PintoCorreia 2003) and the white dodo commonly became incorporated into Raphus as R. solitarius (see also chapter 6). There are also geological reasons against a dodo-like species on Ré­ union. Réunion is 3 Ma at most (Hume and Cheke 2004; see chapter 6) and it is unlikely that a dodo or solitaire would have colonized Réunion after several million years of evolution on Mauritius or Rodrigues (cf. Hume and Cheke 2004). The fauna of Réunion lacked the flightless and near-flightless bird species of Mauritius, despite other faunal elements having originated there (Hume and Cheke 2004). Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

4.28.  De Boodt’s “Dronte” – a pelican. 163

In conclusion, the evidence for a dodo, or related bird, on Réunion, white or not, rested entirely on Bontekoe’s brief mention of dodos on that island (see above). The descriptions of the Réunion solitaire have been shown to be applicable to an ibis and the illustrations of white dodos have no link to Réunion whatsoever. Furthermore, no remains of any dodo-like birds have been found on the island, despite excavations.

The Dodo and the Penguin

Recently, Hume (2006) emphasized the confusion between the dodo and the penguin, leading to the depiction by Soeteboom of penguins on Mauritius (fig. 1.21). Clusius had depicted the dodo and the penguin (1605, 100, 101 [respectively]). Nieremberg (1635) also depicted the penguin,42 and Jonstonus illustrated them on the same plate (1650, pl. 56). As Soeteboom, in his edition of Van West-Zanen’s account (1648), depicted penguins instead of dodos, Hume (2006) suggested that he had either copied the bird from Begin ende Voortgangh (1646, De Weert’s account43) or had inadvertently lifted the penguin instead of the dodo from Jonstonus’s plate. The latter is unlikely, due to its publication date and the clarity of the assignment of labels for the figures on the plate (contra Hume 2006). The name Mauritius was given to several locations, including one in the region of the Straits of Magellan, where penguins were indeed found. Van Spilbergen also mentioned finding “Pinguins” on “Mauritius de Nassau” (1619, 159). On a map of Jodocus Hondius, Isla de los Estados is labelled “I Mauritius.” Furthermore, both Jolinck (1598) and Cornelisz (1598) had formerly associated the dodo with the penguin (see chapter 1). The confusion between birds described on da Gama’s voyage and the dodo is discussed elsewhere (see below).

The “Dodo of Vere”

An ostrich is depicted on the gable of “het Schotsche huis”44 in Vere, on Walcheren, in the Netherlands. The carving bears the inscription “Inden Struys” and the date 1561 (fig. 4.29). A. C. Oudemans and his wife visited Vere in August 1909 and saw the carving. After consideration, Oudemans (1917b) thought that it was not an ostrich, due to its differences with that bird, but a dodo. He thought that a dodo might have been brought back from Mauritius by the Portuguese and transported to Vere. Oudemans also supposed that the Portuguese brought a specimen of Leguatia (see above) to the Netherlands in around 1580. The image was considered by Oudemans (1917b) to represent a robust female dodo brought alive to Europe in 1561 – and a female Réunion solitaire, brought alive to Holland, by Hachisuka (1953). As such, it was thought to be the earliest representation of the dodo and to represent the earliest didine bird brought to Europe. Oudemans (1917b) also thought it very similar to the dodo in the Officium B. M. Virginis, Rari IX, at Florence (see above), the same species, sex, developmental stage, and even posture. The carving, however, does indeed depict an ostrich. “Inden struys” might be a mistake for “Indien Struys” (Indian Ostrich) – ostriches were still present in the Middle East at the time. The horseshoe in its mouth is an indication of the ostrich’s supposed ability to digest iron. 164

The Dodo and the Solitaire

Vasco da Gama’s “Solitaires”

Dodo Miscellanea

Vasco da Gama and his crew arrived at a bay 60 leagues beyond the Cape of Good Hope, on November 24, 1497. In the bay, which was named Angra de San Blaz (Blasius Bay or Mussel Bay), was a small island with seals and birds (Hamel 1845). On the islet were birds resembling geese with wings like those of bats, which the Portuguese called Sotilicayros or Sotilicairos. This islet was probably La Cruz (Singer 1850). On March 3, 1499, they revisited Angra de San Blaz on their return and many Sotilicairos were captured. Although da Gama’s journal is lost, there survives material collected and compiled by Castanheda (1551).45 Osorio (1571) added that it was the natives who called the birds Sotilicarios and that the latter used their wings to run fast. In some later editions the birds were mistakenly called stares, “starlings;” the birds were also given two different names – one for the outward voyage and one for the return voyage. Lesson (1838) went further, mistakenly stating that when the Portuguese returned in 1499 they called the birds swans and named the island “Ilha do Cerne,” island of swans. Blainville (1835) cited these birds as “solitaires” and stated that the sailors compared them with swans and called the island “Ilha des Cisnes” (Isle of Swans). This account was considered by Thompson (1829), Blainville (1835), Duncan (1836), and Broderip (1837) to be the first record of didine birds. Hamel (1848) disagreed with Thompson’s (1829), Blainville’s (1835) and Broderip’s (1837) assumption that da Gama’s crew had seen dodos, and added that the birds described were probably not named by the Portuguese, but by the natives (as sotilicairi or a similar name). As noted by Strickland (1848) and Hamel (1845, 1848), da Gama never visited Mauritius and the birds described were undoubtedly penguins. De Houtman also visited Angra de San Blaz (Sant Bras) in 1595 and mentioned pinguyones there, confirming that the birds found by da Gama on the islet of the bay in 1497 were, indeed, penguins. The account cannot be referred to any Mascarene bird. No records of the dodo or Rodrigues solitaire have been found in any Portuguese or Arab records prior to 1600, and the only known contemporary Portuguese mention of the dodo is by Almeida (1616). Dodos on Madagascar George Clark, in “A Ramble round Mauritius,” speculated that it is not unlikely the Dodo, or something much like it, may yet be found in Madagascar. The late Rahamandrianassen, a chief of some note who fled from Tamatave to escape the punishment he would have incurred for having favored the evasion of some native christians, stated that he had seen a bird much if not altogether like what the Dodo is represented, brought down a river to the north of Tamatave by a heavy flood: that it was in an advanced stage of decomposition, but that the singularity of its appearance had induced some men to go into the water to fetch it out; and that he had had the head in his possession. I have shown the engraving of the Dodo to many Madegasses, several of whom declared that they had heard of such a bird existing in their country; but not one of them could say he had seen it. Some eggs, recognized as belonging to a bird of the same family, were found in that Island a few years ago, brought to Bourbon, and sent thence to France. These Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

4.29.  “Inden struys” – the socalled “dodo” of Vere. 165

enormous eggs measured about thirteen inches in their greater diameter, nine inches in their shorter diameter, contained very nearly two gallons, and the shell was more than the tenth of an inch in thickness. (1859, lxxvi)

The eggs mentioned above were, of course, those of Aepyornis, the elephant bird. Blainville (1835) also thought that the dodo might possibly exist, or have previously existed, on Madagascar. Furthermore, Whitmore noted that during a trip to Madagascar in 1861 “the natives spoke of a bird hardly able to fly, and easily caught when once discovered, larger than a goose, but of somewhat similar form. The native name, as translated to me, signifies ‘a bird that is not a bird’” (1862, 360). Of course these were examples of mistaken identity or incorrect information, the dodo and solitaire being restricted entirely to the Mascarenes. 4.30.  The sacred goose of Sri Lanka (Tennent 1859, 487).

Dodos on the Seychelles Dumont (1819), referring to Morel, suggested that there might have once been dodos found on the Seychelles. However, Morel (1778) makes no statement that there were dodo-like birds on the Seychelles, only that they are not found there now (cf. Grant 1801). Lesson, however, misquoting Herbert, noted that the dodo was also found on “Diego Ramirès, one of Seychelles” (1838, 74). It was also formerly thought that the Seychelles were part of a large landmass, which included the Mascarenes and which is now submerged (see chapter 6). Sri Lankan Dodos In Sri Lankan sculpture there is commonly depicted the hanza or hangsiya, the sacred goose, which, according to the natives is extinct (“Ol. Mem. Ju.” 1853). Tennent noted that in the main apartment of the royal palace at Kandy are depictions of the hanza, but that it resembled “the dodo rather than the Brahmanee goose” (1859, 487; see fig. 4.30). Again, this is another instance of mistaken identity. An Indian Picture of the Dodo Another Indian picture of the dodo (fig. 4.31) was stated by Richon (2006) to be drawn by an Indian artist in the seventeenth century. It is one of several images of animals, each with its name in Hindi written beside it. The caption for the dodo reads guid, or vulture. This image is in the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya (Prince of Wales Museum of Western India) in Mumbai, and is probably from the Bundi School and actually dates from the end of the eighteenth or beginning of the nineteenth century (Vandana Prapanna, pers. comm., March 8, 2007). Schlegel’s Other Dodos Schlegel (1854a) allocated three other species from the Mascarenes to the dodo, Didus. Two of these were the small dodo of Van den Broucke (Didus Brouckei), based on the descriptions of Cauche, Van den Broecke and

4.31.  A dodo, labeled as guid, Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya (Prince of Wales Museum of Western India, Mumbai). 166

The Dodo and the Solitaire

4.32.  Schlegel’s reconstructions of Didus broeckei and Didus herbertii (Schlegel 1854b, 345, 346).

Leguat, and the small dodo of Herbert (Didus Herbertii), based on Herbert’s illustration (Schlegel 1854b; fig. 4.32). He later (1873) transferred Broeckei and Herbertii to the genus Pezophaps. Both species are, in fact, synonyms of Aphanapteryx, the rail, and are not related to the dodo. Visscher’s Dodo List (1905) noticed a supposedly undescribed picture of the dodo on a copper-engraved map entitled “Indiae orientalis, nec non insularum adjacentium nova descriptio, per Nicolaum Vischer” (dimensions: 451/2 × 55; date lacking, but thought to be c. 1660–1670). In the lower left corner, in the “Oceanus Orientalis, qui et Mar di India,” is a figure carrying a large bird under his right arm and a basket of fish under his left (fig. 4.33). Oudemans (1917c) thought this was a male “White Dodo.” The bird has a large beak, webbed feet and an indication of a pouch under the bill. It is, therefore, probably a pelican. Cryptozoology The rumored survival of the dodo in Samoa, reported in the late nineteenth-century (Shufeldt 1886), was based on specimens of the tooth-billed pigeon, Didunculus (Coues 1886). It was also thought possible that the dodo might still be found in Madagascar (Shufeldt 1886; see above). Following Oudemans (1917b), Ley (1959) suggested that the Île Tromelin might be identical to “Ilha do Nazaret,”46 and, as such, fossil or even living dodos might be found there (see also above). Mackal (1983) further suggested that other uninhabited nearby islands, such as the Cargados Carajos Shoals and the Agalega Islands, might possibly have living dodos. However, these islands are very small and have been visited by man, without reports of dodos. Île Tromelin itself has no forests or land birds (Cheke and Hume 2008). Lawrence G. Green relayed that according to some Mauritians, the dodo had been seen many times since 1681 (its supposed extinction date) and that it still survived in “inaccessible cliff caves and mountain forests” (1936, 193). Lastly, William J. Gibbons, a creationist cryptozoologist, learned of reports of dodo-like birds seen recently at dawn and dusk on the beach Secondary Contemporary Sources and Miscellanea

4.33.  Visscher’s “dodo” c. 1660–1670. 167

adjoining the forest of Plain Champagne (Shuker 1997). He investigated these reports in 1990 and 1997, but with inconclusive results. An article in the color magazine of The Mail on Sunday (London), which appeared around 1990, mentioned an Englishman on holiday in Mauritius who saw large, ungainly birds walking along the beach, which he thought were dodos. Two years previous, a Frenchman had also reported seeing a similar bird (Shuker 1999). Gibbons also heard that “at a locality now occupied by Mauritius’s airport, seemingly fresh dodo remains had been found approximately half a century after the dodo had supposedly died out” (Shuker 1999, 47) – this was likely a mistake for Mare aux Songes. The birds are probably a case of mistaken identity (Gibbons suggested they might be sightings of the giant petrel, Macronectes giganteus; Cheke and Hume remarked that “no doubt” they were striated herons, Butorides striata [2008, 365]); they were certainly not dodos.

168

The Dodo and the Solitaire

Anatomical Evidences

Of the known specimens, there was a stuffed dodo in the collection of Rudolf II (the Prague dodo), a foot mentioned by Clusius as being in the collection of Pauwius (which may, or may not be the same as the foot formerly in the Royal Society collection), a head in the Gottorf collection, a stuffed bird in Tradescant’s collection, and additional specimens in the Anatomy School, Oxford. There were the remains of at least five dodos in England during the latter half of the seventeenth century (three at the Anatomy School in Oxford, the Tradescant dodo, and the Royal Society [Hubert’s] dodo foot). It should be noted that all “stuffed” dodos in modern museum collections are reconstructions, composed of feathers from other birds (often swan or goose) and usually modeled with reference to the existing remains and contemporary illustrations. No genuine taxidermied whole dodo exists, the only remains are those detailed below. Lambrecht erroneously stated that there are “some mummies and skins” in various museums (1921, 86). This was probably a confusion concerning the Oxford and BM remains and the reconstructed dodo models. Soft-tissue remains of the dodo are very few and have a kind of sentimental appeal. Kitchener said, on examining the Tradescant head, “It was eerie seeing the head of a long-gone bird resting in a plastic tray. For about

5 Introduction

Known specimens: · The Copenhagen dodo · The Prague dodo · Pauwius’s dodo foot · The BM dodo foot: Robert Hubert’s foot, the Royal Society foot, the BM foot · The Anatomy School dodos · The Tradescant specimen Evidence of birds shipped from Mauritius: · The Amsterdam dodo (1626) · The Altham dodo (1628) · Mansu¯r’s dodo (c. 1624–1627) · The Surat dodos (c. 1628–1634) · L’Estrange’s dodo (c. 1638) · The Batavia dodo (1647)

169

half an hour, all I could do was turn it over and over in my hands. It brought home to me vividly that it had once been a living bird” (1990, 514). When comparing the extant specimens, one can note differences. The Copenhagen head has part of the braincase removed, probably to assist removal of the brain, whereas the Tradescant head is intact. The latter was formerly part of a complete specimen; whether the former was is not known. The BM foot was apparently cut off in situ and was probably not part of a mount. There is difficulty in tying specimens together, due to differences and accuracy in measurements, periods of time with no records, and so on. The nonrecording of exported or imported specimens, live or dead, also creates problems. The best chance of specimens reaching Europe alive, or at least well preserved, would have been if the ship visited Mauritius on the return voyage. Therefore, specimens are less likely to have come from Van Neck’s (1598), Harmansz’s (1601) or Matelief’s (1606) voyages, but might have been obtained from Schuurmans’s (1602) or Van der Hagen’s (1607) voyages. Owing to the long sea voyage, dodos were unlikely to have reached Holland alive (see below), and any living birds transported to Prague or Vienna would have had a long strenuous road journey in addition to this. In contrast, Cheke and Hume remarked that dodos were resilient, capable of survival on ship and in captivity, “some apparently surviving for years” (2008, 38) – for which there is little or no evidence. Cheke and Hume (2008) assumed that since East India Company ships probably did not have taxidermists, the stuffed dodos in collections must have come from birds brought alive to Europe. This may be the case as regards well-preserved specimens, such as the 1626 Amsterdam dodo and the Tradescant bird, but we have insufficient information on other specimens to confirm this. Furthermore, contra Cheke and Hume (2008), there is no evidence that Savery saw live dodo(s) in 1626. Friedmann (1956) suggested that if a live dodo was kept in a menagerie, being flightless it may have been in an open enclosure with ornamental water birds such as ducks, geese, and storks near a body of water. This may have led to its being painted with these birds near water. However, the painted landscapes created by artists probably had little basis in reality. Sex-Determination of Specimens All the extant specimens, despite size differences, represent osteologically mature individuals. According to Livezey’s (1993) data, the sex-determinations of extant specimens are as follows: Tradescant: male (from tarsometatarsus length); Prague: male; BM: male; Copenhagen: ?female. In contrast, Hume et al. (2006) considered the Tradescant specimen to be female (based on its foot size). Kitchener (1990) thought the Tradescant dodo was larger than average, again based on measurements of the foot. The Supposed 1599 Dodo The brothers De Bry (1600) mentioned that the Dutch brought a dodo back with them from the Tweede Schipvaart (see chapter 1). This has been taken 170

The Dodo and the Solitaire

to mean that a dodo was imported to Holland in July 1599 (e.g., Oudemans 1917b; Hachisuka 1953; Hume 2006; cf. Dumont 1819, Griffith 1829). Noll (1889) went further, erroneously stating that it was the De Brys who brought the dodo to Holland, and that this was placed in the collection of Rudolf II and subsequently illustrated in Vienna. He did, however, admit that this was doubtful and added that the bird was in fact a cassowary, given to De Bry in Java. Renshaw stated that the bird lived for “several years” (1931, 15). Oudemans (1917b, 1918a) thought that the Prague dodo was probably that mentioned by the De Brys and had been brought back in July 1599, or between July 1599 (its arrival in Amsterdam) and August 1600 (when, according to him, Joris Hoefnagel died). Furthermore, considering it to be a “White Dodo” from Réunion, he surmised that it must have been the Portuguese who brought it back, as the Dutch did not visit Réunion prior to 1612. Others thought that this dodo was also the model for Roelandt Savery’s paintings (e.g., Rothschild 1907; Ley 1941). Lüttschwager (1972) stated that a dodo was brought to the court of Rudolf II in Vienna between 1605 and 1610. Staudinger (1990) also thought that the Dutch brought back a dodo from their first voyage to Mauritius. Killermann (1915) erroneously stated that there had been a dodo brought to Holland “by the brothers De Bry” which was taken into the menagerie of Rudolf II. However, he subsequently noted that the “dodo” brought to Holland was probably a cassowary. Some (e.g., Wendt 1956; Grihault 2005) even stated that two dodos were brought back, one in July 1599 and the other six months later. Wendt (1956) stated that both birds thrived in captivity and were painted by Dutch and German artists, the latter bird having been purchased by Rudolf II (cf. Silverberg 1967). Hume (2006) considered the 1599 dodo to be the model for the illustrations of Het tweede Boeck, Van-Ravesteyn, and Clusius. Hume and Prys-Jones (2005) stated that the dodo of Fröschl’s inventory must have been imported prior to c. 1606 and that it was painted by Savery around 1611. There is no other mention, other than that of the De Brys, of the importation of a dodo at this time, living or dead, and the figure accompanying the De Bry’s text depicts cassowaries.1 Of particular note is the fact that Clusius made no mention of it, yet he obtained detailed information concerning that voyage. Furthermore, the dodo is not mentioned in Clusius’s posthumous work Curae posteriores of 1611. However, other than the letters of Altham, there are no mentions of the collecting and sending of a dodo to Europe – yet more than one certainly arrived there (cf. Aphanapteryx in Rudolf II’s collection; Thomas Herbert’s bat). Moreover, Clusius’s information on the cassowary is incomplete (Staudinger 1990). There may have been mention of the importation of a dodo in one of the lost journals, or perhaps in the lost first Dutch edition of Van Neck’s voyage, the Waarachtige Beschryving, although this is unlikely. If the dodo arrived in July 1599 it would have had to endure a long voyage, from Mauritius to the East Indies and then to Holland, although it need not have necessarily been alive when it arrived in Holland. All in all, it seems unlikely that a dodo was imported into Europe in 1599. The most likely source for this dodo, that is, the Prague dodo (see below), is Hans Schuurmans’s fleet, which returned to Texel in April 1603 (see chapter 1). They were at Mauritius for some time, from June 22 until September 8. Both Van West-Zanen and Cornelisz had visited Mauritius Anatomical Evidences

171

previously with Van Warwijck. Van West-Zanen mentions dodos on several occasions, including the bringing back to the ships of almost 50 dodos, some of which were salted. Furthermore, Cornelisz’s account mentions velthoenderen (the earliest to do so), which are probably Aphanapteryx bonasia, a specimen of which is also found in Rudolf’s collection. Van Neck made no mention of Aphanapteryx, however, suggesting that the specimen was not brought back by this fleet. Whereas the journals of the Tweede Schipvaart make no mention of any dodo being brought back to Europe, that of Van West-Zanen (1648) states that many dodos were killed. This was also on the homeward voyage, rather than the outward one, as in the case of Van Neck’s expedition. In addition, Clusius apparently obtained a Mauritian bat from this expedition (see chapter 4). Clusius obtained information on the dodo and Mauritius from the journals of Van Neck’s and the 1602 expeditions. In the available sources for the 1602 visit there is no mention of a dodo’s having been imported to the Netherlands, but as it seems that Clusius obtained his information from the journals alone, and as they returned not long before publication of the Exoticorum, he may not have been aware of the importation of a dodo, for there certainly was one in Europe by 1607–1611 (see below). This dodo, the Prague dodo, was probably the source for Van-Ravesteyn, Savery-Kassel, Brueghel, and possibly also Clusius, and was probably the bird listed in Fröschl’s inventory. It differs in several respects from the Amsterdam dodo – in, for example, its coloring. It also differs from the Savery-Crocker bird(s) (see chapter 3). The Savery-Crocker Dodo(s) The model(s) for the Savery-Crocker sketch is unlikely to have been the same bird as that of Van Ravesteyn (cf. Den Hengst 2003; contra PintoCorreia 2003). If it is suggested that the entry in Fröschl’s inventory relates to Van Ravesteyn’s bird, then the Savery-Crocker bird(s) must have been acquired sometime after this. Unfortunately, the entries concerning exotic birds in the 1619 and 1621 Prague inventories are vague. This bird may have been in Prague or the Netherlands and would appear to have been brown and gray-brown with a grayish face (Savery-Christie’s; De-HondecoeterNorthumberland). The toe pads (pulvinus digiti) were flattened out laterally, giving a suggestion of webbing. The Amsterdam Dodo of 1626 Van der Venne recorded that a living dodo was imported into Holland in 1626 (see chapter 3). There are only three possible VOC ships via which a dodo could have been imported if it arrived in Holland in 1626: Dordrecht (master: Willem Jakobsz Koster). Departed April 23, 1625, Surat. Arrived February 11, 1626, Texel. Chamber for which the cargo was destined: Amsterdam. Stayed for three months at Mauritius. Arrived at the Cape in October 1625. Weesp (master: Dirk Klaasz). Departed April 23, 1625, Surat. Arrived March 19, 1626, Texel. Chamber for which the cargo was destined: 172

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Amsterdam. Stayed for three months at Mauritius. Arrived at the Cape in 1625. Forced by a storm to sail to Plymouth in January 1626. Leeuwin (master: Jan Willemsz van Oostzaner Overtoom). Departed May 25, 1625, Masulipatnam. Arrived March 21, 1626, Texel. Chamber for which the cargo was destined: Amsterdam. Via Mauritius, and Plymouth, January 1626. Departure from Pulicat May 31, 1625. Arrived at the Cape on November 4, 1625. According to Nicolaus van Wassenaer, As the Maeght van Dordrecht, the Leewinne, and the yacht Wesop loaded their cargo in Gameron, as well as in Zurati, they set course to the fatherland, and ran on the island Mauritius and remained there three months. The ambassador [of Persia, Moesa-Bek: Millies (1868)] abided there on the land, for to refresh him[self], also it is as beautiful an island as one finds anywhere, one has an abundance of goats, tortoises, Velthoenders, Dodeersen, and doves: the fish in such abundance that [they] cannot be used up; the stone-bream eaten makes pain in the head, or dullness; the eel was good. The servants of the ambassador led out daily, and shot the game on the land, many miles inwards, returned on the compass, they brought their catch, prepared [koockteden] them for their lord, in his tent, those he had stored there: like the sailors did, they ate so many Velthoenderen and birds that they forgot the ships’ food. (1626, foll. 121r, 121v)

It is possible that the dodo was intended as a gift for Prince Maurits van Nassau (and being from his namesake island), for his menagerie. However, he died on April 23, 1625, prior to the bird’s arrival. The dodo was probably sent to the menagerie of Frederik Hendrik of Orange and Amalia van Solms at Buitendorf, near The Hague, or the one at Honslaersdyk. It probably died shortly after arrival and was stuffed. This stuffed bird was the source of Savery’s later paintings. This bird was apparently grayer than the SaveryCrocker bird(s) (Savery-Berlin, Savery-BM, Savery-OUM). Schlegel (1854a) stated that the paintings of the dodo were made in the Netherlands from a live captive bird and Stresemann (1958) stated that all the dodos painted in Europe, with the exception of Van Ravesteyn’s model, were from the 1626 Amsterdam bird. Kitchener (1993a) thought that Savery’s paintings suggested a captive bird in the Netherlands in the 1620s. According to Ziswiler, the Amsterdam dodo was overfed and disfigured, with a crouched posture, chafed places, and “thoracic air sac rupture” (“thorakalen Luftsackbruch”), with some images showing unnaturally overgrown (“verhornten”) toes (1996, 30, 31). Ziswiler suggested that it had been kept in a gloomy hull on the long voyage, penned in a small cage, fed unvaried food and with little water, which may have led to liver problems. Ziswiler also interpreted the “worn” area on Savery-OUM dodo’s forehead as the result of chafing, and considered the bill to be deformed, the bulging abdomen and fore-tibia to indicate air sac ruptures, and the crouched posture due to cramped conditions. This, however, is not the case, and the illustrations of Van der Venne, Savery, and De Hondecoeter depict, without doubt, a stuffed specimen. The dodo probably died and was stuffed sometime between its arrival, in February or March 1626, and December of that year, when Roelandt Savery’s picture (Savery-Berlin) was viewed. Perhaps during taxidermy, the sternum and/or pectoral girdle were removed, leaving the wings hanging. The bird looks overstuffed: if the bird had died in Europe Anatomical Evidences

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then its skin would have still been supple and easy for taxidermists to overfill (pers. obs.). The 1626 Amsterdam dodo shows several differences when compared with images such as those of Mansu¯r, the Gelderland, and Van Ravesteyn, which could be due to sex, individual variation, or breeding season (see also chapter 6), or merely due to artistic differences. This 1626 Amsterdam dodo became the model for almost all later dodo illustrations (see fig. 3.01). Summary of Dodos in Europe Strickland (1848), Newton and Gadow (1910), and Stresemann (1958) considered all dodo pictures dating to 1626–1628 to have been made from the same specimen. Owen and Broderip (1866) thought that the dodo that served as model for the paintings was probably either a bird brought back by Van Neck’s fleet or one kept in Prince Maurits’s menagerie. Oudemans (1917b, 1918a) surmised that at least 15 dodos had been imported into Europe (cf. Renshaw 1931), including 9 to the Netherlands, 3 to England, and probably 1 to Belgium and 1 to Italy. These were as follows: Living Mauritian dodos imported into Europe: 1561 (“dodo of Vere”); July ?1599 (by Van Neck); 1626 (the Amsterdam dodo [Van-der-Venne; De-Hondecoeter-Stumpf]); 1626 (Savery-Berlin); seventeenth century (Savery-Pommersfelden); seventeenth century (Savery-ZSL); seventeenth century (Savery-Mauritshuis); seventeenth century (Savery-BM); 1628 (Savery-Vienna); 1634 (Crosfield’s dodo); seventeenth century (Florence Codex after Clusius); 1638 (L’Estrange’s dodo); and ±1655 (Van-Kessel-Munich). Living “White Dodos” imported into Europe: ±1600? (Van-Ravesteyn); 1627 (De-Hondecoeter-Nothumberland), ±1632? (dodo of Lubach 1866); ±1637 (Saftleven); ±1638 (Holsteyn’s pictures); ±1649 (Savery-Crocker); 1651 (Savery-OUM); 1657 (Walther); and ±1684 (Withoos-ILN). Renshaw (1931) thought that the first dodo imported was Van Neck’s and the last was Ruthardt’s. Lambrecht (1933) stated that 14 specimens arrived in Europe (9 to Holland, 3 to England, 1 [?] to Belgium and 1 [?] to Italy). Hachisuka’s (1953) list of imported Mauritian dodos was as follows: 1600 (the Prague dodo); 1626 (Van der Venne); 1626 (Savery-Berlin); 1626 (SaveryPommersfelden); 1626 (Savery-ZSL); 1626 (Savery-Mauritshuis); 1626 (SaveryBM); 1627 (De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland); 1628 (Savery-Vienna); 1632 (Lubach 1866); 1634 (Crosfield’s dodo); 1634 (Florence dodos); ?1637 (Van Thülden); 1637 (Saftleven); 1647 (Batavia dodo); 1649 (original of Salomon Savery’s engraving); 1650 (the Tradescant dodo); 1651 (Savery-OUM); 1655 (Van Kessel; after Clusius); and 1666 (Ruthart). He summarized these as Holland, 5 males and 4 females (also probably 1 in Antwerp [Van Thülden]); England, 2 birds; Italy, 1 bird in Genoa; India, 2 birds (seen by Mundy); and Japan, 1 bird (exported from Batavia). Imported Victoriornis imperialis included 1735–1746 (Labourdonnais’s bird), 1638? (Holsteyn’s pictures), and 1680 (Withoos’s pictures); imported Ornithaptera solitaria included 1561 (“dodo of Vere”), 1618 (Minaggio), 1638? (L’Estrange’s dodo), and 1657 (Walther). Lüttschwager (1961) surmised that 3 dodos arrived in Holland, England and Austria, and at least 2 arrived in India. Cheke postulated that in “the 174

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1620s, 1630s and possibly the early 1640s a number of Dodos were shipped abroad, and one probably survived until 1655 or a little later; this bird, in Holland, could have been brought from Batavia” (1987, 39). Pinto-Correia (2003) proposed the following list: Holland, 5 males and 4 females; England, 2 birds, Antwerp, 1 bird; Genoa, 1 bird; and Germany, 1 bird. Hume (2006) listed 4 dodos: 1599 (Het tweede Boeck; Van-Ravesteyn; Clusius); 1611 (Savery-Dahlem); 1626 (Van-der-Venne; Savery’s pictures, including Savery-Crocker); and 1638 (Saftleven). Further discussion on the sources for these is given in the relevant chapters. According to Grihault (2007), the list was 9 dodos exported to Holland, 1 to Prague, 1 to England, 1 to Batavia, 2 to India. Cheke and Hume (2008) suggested that 11 dodos had probably reached foreign countries alive, including at least 3 birds reaching England (4 if L’Estrange’s bird is considered distinct from Tradescant’s) that were preserved post mortem, and at least 3 to Holland. The Prague and SaveryDahlem dodos were considered to be different individuals. These suppositions are based on scant evidence – minor differences between descriptions and illustrations. Perhaps the best that can be surmised is as follows: Summary of dodos in Europe: c. 1603 (the Prague dodo) 1626 (the Amsterdam dodo) Pre-1627 (The Savery-Crocker Dodo[s]) c. 1638 (L’Estrange) Parts of specimens: Pre-1605 (Pauwius’s dodo foot) Pre-1605 (Porret’s gastroliths) Specimens that may or may not be concorporeal with the above: The BM foot The Anatomy School dodos The Tradescant dodo The Copenhagen dodo head Dodos outside Europe and Mauritius: Batavia/Japan, Surat (two birds), plus another in Jaha¯ngı¯r’s menagerie Rodriguez solitaire: 1729 to Mauritius (Jonchée) Pauwius’s dodo foot and the BM dodo foot are treated separately here: for further discussion, see section below. Christian Porret’s dodo gastroliths are discussed in chapter 6. Comparisons with the Cassowary The dodo has several similarities with the cassowary, remains of which were also present in several collections (e.g., those of Hubert, Tradescant, Rudolf II, and Gottorf). It was also a large, flightless bird and was transported Anatomical Evidences

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from the East Indies to Europe. It differs in the fact that its native habitat was inhabited and that it had been dispersed from its original location to other islands. The cassowary is a hardy and sometimes dangerous bird, and was probably able to survive the long voyages better than the dodo. Several live birds were present in collections in Europe (including those of Rudolf II, James I, “Mr. Maydston,” Charles II, and Louis XIV). Taxidermy in the Seventeenth Century Preservation techniques were not very effective in the seventeenth century, especially those used while on an expedition. Complete stuffed specimens in Europe were probably from birds arriving in Europe alive, or only very recently dead. The journey from Mauritius to Europe could take five to nine and one-half months in a VOC ship. Despite suggestions that dodos would not have been able to survive this journey, some did. Furthermore, several cassowaries survived the voyage from Southeast Asia, and even the long overland journeys that followed. Taxidermy in the early seventeenth century consisted of the removal of the viscera followed by drying out in an oven and/or salting (Schulze-Hagen et al. 2003). Two main methods have been recorded: According to Olina (1622): The skin was opened at the base of the neck and cut down along the back to the upper tail. The subcutaneous fat and flesh were then scraped off. A “corpus” of filling material (babagia: straw, wood, peat, cotton, or other material) soaked in alcohol (assentio) was made, over which the skin was pulled, and the legs and wings were shaped using copper wire (Schulze-Hagen et al. 2003). According to Aitinger (1626/31): The body was opened up near the legs. Then the whole skin, with the head, legs, wings, and tail, was peeled from the body. The flesh from the legs and wings and the eyeballs were removed, the cranium was opened, and the brain extracted. Following this, ash, sulfur, and alum were spread over the whole skin, as well as in the “wing holes,” eye sockets, and cranium. A “corpus” was constructed from straw or hay “corresponding to the proportions of the body” and the skin was fitted over this. To protect the specimen from maggots and moths it was advised that it be dried in an oven “every quarter-year” (Schulze-Hagen et al. 2003, 471). As such, most specimens could not be preserved for more than 30 or 40 years (Brom and Prins 1989); even today it is difficult to keep specimens insect free. From examination of illustrations, there are several indications of a stuffed specimen: retraction of the lower jaw (as in Van-Ravesteyn; SaveryBM); an unnatural body shape (either thin due to removal of the sternum, or oversized due to overstuffing, giving a rounded appearance [e.g., SaveryOUM]); loose, frayed, and/or misplaced feathers; dark coloring due to preservation techniques and aging; feet with loose or dried-looking skin; beak with ridges due to shrinkage of the facial skin; lack of rhamphotheca; glass eye (i.e., unnatural iris color); or hanging wing due to probable removal

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of pectoral girdle. If most of the vertebral column was removed, then this may also account for the arched back seen in some paintings. Drying in an oven “every quarter-year” might have aided the shrinking of the skin and the production of the bill ridges and enlarged nostril. If the Amsterdam 1626 dodo arrived alive and died soon after, then it would have made a good specimen for stuffing. The skin might have been more elastic which, with overstuffing, might have given a more bulky appearance. In contrast, the Prague dodo does not look overstuffed and may have arrived in Holland dead and already preserved to some extent. The possible embellishment of stuffed specimens by the “salesman” with feathers of other birds, such as the ostrich (Den Hengst 2003), is discussed elsewhere (see chapter 6). Other paintings in the Museum Kaiser Rudolfs II show chimerical creatures, such as a monocerote donkey and a wyvern, indicating that some specimens, at least, were embellished. It was previously thought that the “fat” appearance and crouched posture of many dodo illustrations was due to the birds being crammed into crates and fed a poor diet or overfed (Lüttschwager 1959a; Van Wissen 1995; Gill and West 2001; see chapter 6 for further discussion). Staub described “newly arrived birds in their still ankylosed and crouched posture resulting from months of travelling in crates” (1996, 90). It was postulated that dodos might have become fat on the voyage from Mauritius by eating ship’s biscuit, which often contained weevils (Kitchener 1993b). Lüttschwager (1959a) compared Savery’s dodo to the fatter domestic descendant of a wild duck. Unable to explain the hunchback of some dodo images, Ziswiler (1996) thought it a fantasy, since birds do not put on much fat in that region. Even Cheke and Hume (2008), following Kitchener (1993a), stated that dodos evidently easily became obese in captivity. Brandt (1848) even suggested that Savery might have depicted birds not adapted to the cold northern climes, being huddled low with ruffled feathers. These “fat,” crouched birds are here interpreted as the result of taxidermy. Alleged Stuffed Dodo in Somerset A supposed stuffed dodo at Nettlecombe Park, Somerset, reported by Rowland Winn (1852) was, in fact, a large bustard (W. C. Trevelyan [see Bartlett 1852]). Unfortunately, this specimen no longer exists (Nick Lapthorn, pers. comm., January 5, 2011). De Rienzi’s Dodo As a final notice, under the heading “L’histoire naturelle de l’archipel de Salomon,” Domeny de Rienzi related, “We also obtained, from the same Javanese, a part of a dodo which we lost in our shipwreck; and we forgot if it had been an inhabitant of the Solomon Islands or otherwise” (1837, 384).2 The specimen might have belonged to Didunculus, the dodo-like Samoan toothed pigeon, which was discovered by the naturalist Titian Peale in 1839. Indeed, in his description of Didunculus, Peale remarked, “We were enabled by great labour to obtain three specimens [of Didunculus], one of which was lost by the wreck of our ship” (1848, 212).

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It is known that the Habsburg emperor Rudolf II possessed in his collections a stuffed dodo. Rudolf’s collection, or Kunstkammer, was housed in Prague Castle (the Hradschin) and occupied four rooms, comprising the Kunstkammer proper and the vordere Kunstkammer (Bukovinská 1997). Rudolf’s collection was one of the largest in the world at the time: it contained rare and exotic specimens from all over the globe and Rudolf had agents collecting for him all over Europe (Lach 1970). It was seen as a mirror of the universe, containing representatives of the known world, from naturalia to artificialia. Clusius (1605) remarked, “[H]is Majesty spares no expense to indulge himself in these trophies of travel, and in the knowledge of all the wonders of Nature” (quoted in Stresemann 1975, 28). However, there was no real system of order in the arrangement of the Kunstkammer (Bukovinská 2005). New rooms were added to the western part of the Hradschin in the period 1600–1606 and the emperor’s collections were moved into these, perhaps as late as 1605 or 1606 (Fucˇíková 2001). The Kunstkammer became Rudolf’s private domain, where he spent much of his time; the collections were usually kept locked, but could be shown to visitors upon request (Lach 1970). It was very difficult to gain access to Rudolf’s rarities; even dignitaries could not view them. Anselmus de Boodt, who painted the cassowary, had not been able to see it or its image in Prague, and had to use the same source as Clusius’s illustration of that bird (Staudinger 1990). In addition to the Kunstkammer, Rudolf also had menageries (see below) with exotic animals. A handwritten inventory, the Kunstkammerinventar, of the collections, was compiled between 1607 and 1611. It was written in German and systematically arranged in groups (Bauer and Haupt 1976) and had been discovered by Gustav Wilhelm in 1945 in the library of the princes of Liechtenstein at Vaduz; Wilhelm transliterated the manuscript in 1947. The Kunstkammerinventar, compiled by Daniel Fröschl, bears the introduction “Of Anno 1607. List [of] what was found in the Rom: Imp: Maj: Kunstcammer” (fol. 1). On fol. 14, headed “All kinds of birds and the same type,” is the entry for the dodo:

The Prague Dodo

135. 1 Indian stuffed bird, in Carolus Clusius’s description named by the Dutch walghvogel, has a large round body in size as large as a goose or larger, a malformed large beak, small wings, therewith it cannot fly, whitish dirty color. (Bauer and Haupt 1976, 9–10)

Although this entry is undated it has been suggested that it dates from 1609 (Bukovinská 2005); the preceding entry lists “1 small hen with 3 feet, embalmed [gepalsamirt], came to the kunstkammer Ao 1609” (Bauer and Haupt 1976, 9). As indicated above, Fröschl used Clusius’s Exoticorvm libri decem (1605) as a reference when naming many of the animals (Findlen 1997). The extinct Mauritian red rail (Aphanapteryx bonasia) is also listed: “149. 1 stuffed strange Indian bird also with curved under itself [i.e., decurved] thin bill, liver color, of hard down-feathers without tail and almost small wings, therewith it cannot fly” (Bauer and Haupt 1976, 10).3 Also listed are the remains of two cassowaries. Clusius (1605) had seen one of these alive at The Hague (see below). Since the dodo is listed in the 1607–1611 inventory, it is evident that it was to be found in the Kunstkammer proper. Within this repository 178

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there were single and double cupboards (both open and with doors), tables, chests, cases and writing desks. The 1607–1611 inventory, which also mentions older lists, was probably written shortly after the collection had been moved into the new rooms. Müllenmeister (1988) suggested a link between Fröschl’s entry and the Savery-Dahlem dodo, and Hume and Cheke (2004), Hume (2006) and Cheke and Hume (2008) considered the two to represent the same specimen. This is discussed further elsewhere (see chapter 3). After Rudolf’s death in January 1612, some specimens were passed on to his relatives and others moved to Vienna (Fucˇíková 2001). The Thirty Years’ War represented a damaging period for Rudolf’s former collections. In 1620, after the battle of White Mountain on November 17, Maximillian of Bavaria loaded 1500 wagons with objects from the collections and removed them. In 1631 the Elector Prince of Saxe took a further 50 wagonloads of objects. Then, on July 26, 1648, Count von Königsmarck took Hradcˇany and, from the objects due to be sent to Queen Christina of Sweden, took five wagonloads. Other objects were either were looted or burned (Den Hengst 2003). However, many rarities, considered unimportant, were left (Staudinger 1990). Frederick II of Prussia also laid siege to the castle in 1757 and many objects were damaged or destroyed. Finally, on May 4, 1782, Joseph II organized an auction of the most valuable objects, with specimens deemed not saleable (such as fossils, shells, stones, various artificialia, etc.) supposedly dumped into the moat. The dodo specimen, or at least its beak (see below), survived the Sack of Prague, probably because it was considered to have little value. There is no unambiguous mention of the dodo in the inventories of the Prague Kunstkammer from 1619 and 1621. However, there are several entries for “Indian” birds. The inventory of November 1619 was made on the order of the States of Bohemia, which had seized the imperial castle and treasure. It is entitled “Inventarium Deren Sachen, Welche Vor König Fridrichs Etc. Unsers Gnedigsten Herrn Glücklichen Antretung Ins Regiment Der Cron Böhaimb In Den Kunstcammern Aufm Prager Schloss Vorhanden Gewesen” (Morávek 1937, 1). It mentions “In the cupboard with no. 6. In the upper compartment”: Many beaks from Indian birds. A large long beak from an Indian bird, in a blue velvet case. (fol. 74a; Morávek 1937, 26)

In the inventory of December 6, 1621, compiled following the victory of the imperial forces over the army of the States of Bohemia are 19421 No 5. In the cupboard with No 5 . . . In the upper compartment: 39. 21 beaks from all kinds of Indian birds. . . . No 6. In a cupboard with No 6 . . . In the upper compartment and middle one: 59. 1 collection chest, therein a large beak from an Indian bird. . . . Chests and writing desks . . . 6. In the sixth writing desk: 411. No 11: a double drawer, therein 2 boxes with Indian birds heads, the one composed with a little gold. . . . In the first vault, named the front kunstcammer . . . In a green cupboard: 621. A large Indian bird, stuffed. . . . Anatomical Evidences

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In the smaller green cupboard: 622. An anatomized Indian bird. . . . Another box: 624. Therein a strange Indian bird. . . . In 2 green chests: 643. Therein 3 Indian birds. (Zimmermann 1905, xx, xxi, xxix, xxxiii, xxxiv)

In the inventory of “1/11 September aõ 1648 in the Other Chamber” was listed: [no. 32] “In the Fourth Vault”: “1. Hen with 3. feet . . . 1. Cupboard marked with No. 5, therein . . . Indian bird heads” (Dudik 1867, xliv).

In the inventory of October 5, 1737, are On the glass case sub litera marked u . . . , then 2 middle[-sized] and 3 small stuffed birds, however mostly spoiled from antiquity, all on wood bases. (Köpl 1889, clxix, nos. 437–442)

In the inventory of October 20, 1763, are Two large and one small stuffed [ausgeschopffter] birds, ruined from antiquity (clxxii, nos. 88–91).

Images of the Prague Dodo The Painting of Dirk de Quade va n R avestey n (Va n-R avestey n) The dodo is depicted in the work known as the Museum Kaiser Rudolfs II (plate 1), comprising two leather-bound volumes (Cod. min. 129 and 130). These were formerly housed in the private library of the Emperor Franz II (1792–1806 [Frauenfeld 1868a, 1868b]) and are now contained in the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek. The Museum Kaiser Rudolfs II apparently represented specimens in the imperial collections; the illustrations were systematically arranged, depicting various quadrupeds, reptiles, birds, fish, and so on. The majority of the subjects in the volumes were stuffed specimens (Den Hengst 2003); other taxidermied examples include composite creations, such as a wyvern and a monocerote donkey. The painted inventory was kept in a chest and is probably that listed in Fröschl’s Kunstkammerinventar of 1607–1611, nos. 2689, 2690: “Bücher so gemalt und von handrissen [books such (as) painted and hand-drawn]” (quoted in Bauer and Haupt 1976). The entry for no. 2689 reads, “Ihr May: thierbuch von allerley vierfüsiger thier, alle nach dem leben mit Ölfarben von Dietrich Raffenstein auff pergamen gemalt, in rott leder gebundn [His Majesty’s Animal-book of all sorts of four-footed animals, all painted from life with oil-colors on parchment by Dietrich Raffenstein, bound in red leather]” (quoted in Haupt et al. 1990, 78). That for no. 2690 reads “Der ander theil ist das vogelbuch, darin auch die visch und andere gewürmb [The other part is the bird-book, therein also the fish and other reptiles]” (quoted in Haupt et al. 1990, 78). However, Cod. min. 130 did not contain the birds in 1868, when Von Fraueneld described it. The two volumes were purchased for 1000 gold pieces for the collection of Rudolf II (Den Hengst 2003).

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Albert Camesina had informed Georg Ritter von Frauenfeld that there were works by Hoefnagel in the library of the deceased emperor Franz. Leopold Wilhelm von Khloyber, director of the library, allowed Von Frauenfeld to examine the two volumes in which the latter rediscovered the paintings of the dodo and red rail. Von Frauenfeld (1868b, pl. i) then provided a samesize colored chromolithograph facsimile of the dodo illustration (painted by Strohmeyer and chromolithographed by the k. k. Hof-chromolithografen Anton Hartinger of Vienna). The second volume, Cod. min. 130, contains images of birds, including the dodo, and some insects. The painting of the dodo, in oils, is on fol. 31r, between those of the cassowary (fol. 30r) and Mauritius red rail (fol. 32r). Some of the birds stand on mounds, and many have blue or similarly colored backgrounds, whereas the dodo has a brown-ocher background, similar to that of some of the quadrupeds (Hendrix 1997). According to Thea Vignau-Wilberg (1990), the majority of animals in codices 129 and 130 are not by Joris Hoefnagel, as originally thought, but from the workshop of Dirk de Quade van Ravesteyn, and the dodo image is currently attributed to Van Ravesteyn (Den Hengst 2003; Valledor de Lozoya 2003), or at least his workshop (Ziswiler 1996).4 Although Van Ravesteyn was the main artist of the Museum Kaisers Rudolf II, Fröschl, as curator and artist, may have contributed to the work and even its overall conception (Hendrix 1997). Other artists, possibly including Roelandt Savery, probably also contributed. The dodo image had been previously attributed to Joris Hoefnagel (Von Frauenfeld 1868a; Oudemans 1917b; Van Wissen 1995; Grihault 2007), Jacob Hoefnagel (Killermann 1915; Hume 2006), and Fröschl (Bukovinská 2005). The date of the composition of the dodo image is not known exactly, and a variety of dates have been put forward: from before 1600 (Hachisuka 1953) to around 1610 (Hume and Cheke 2004) and even 1626 (Rothschild 1907; Sclater 1915). The only date appearing in the work is 1610 (in pencil on foll. 17r and 69r of cod. min. 130; the dodo being depicted on fol. 31r), and this probably represents the completion date of the project (Hendrix 1997).5 Furthermore, as Clusius (1605) mentions the cassowary as being alive, this suggests a post-1602 date, since the depicted cassowaries are taxidermied. The Van Ravesteyn dodo has black skin (cf. Crosfield’s dodo; see below) and the skull and mandible appear to be intact. The inside of the mouth is reddish pink, although this could have been artificially colored, and the rictus is visible. The mandible is retracted, possibly due to the drying out of the specimen or from the effects of the taxidermy. The head displays long, loose feathers (cf. paintings of the 1626 Amsterdam dodo and the SaveryCrocker dodo) and the iris is orange, due to a glass eye. The plumage is dark brown on the head and neck, brown on the body, and lighter underneath; as Fuller (2002) remarked, this is not really a good description of the “whitish dirty color” of the 1607–1611 inventory. The wing is long, and the primaries are symmetrical. The plumage is loose and the tail consists only of a tuft (the tail feathers may have fallen out during the stuffing process or at some other stage, or, alternatively, were not present initially). Oudemans (1917b), however, mistakenly attributed the position of the tail due to changes in the amount of body fat. Den Hengst (2003) suggested that the light brown of

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5.1.  Van-Ravesteyn combined with the outline skeleton. Note that the head of Van Ravesteyn’s dodo is turned slightly, hence the discrepancy between the outline and the skeleton.

182

the legs may have originally been yellow, but the paint color had changed over time. The accuracy of the image is shown by the attention to detail: for example, the feet and tarsal scutellation of the dodo agree with those of the BM specimen perfectly (see fig. 5.14). The Van Ravesteyn dodo is undoubtedly painted from a stuffed subject and has a “stiff and forward-leaning bearing” (Den Hengst 2003, 78); it represents “a dishevelled and travel-stained bird” (Newton 1868b, 481). The lower jaw is retracted (see above), the dark coloring is most probably due to preservation techniques and/or age of the specimen, a glass eye has been inserted (the orange color of which contrasts with the white iris seen in the painting by Mansu¯r and Savery-BM), and the wing is hanging. The ruffled condition of the plumage suggests that it may have had a preservative rubbed into it. Den Hengst (2003) suggested that the low point of view suggests that the painter had the specimen set out on a table. The wing feathers are unnaturally clustered together and perhaps slightly pulled out, further indications of drying out or inaccurate mounting. Despite this, some previous authors have mistakenly stated that it was painted from life (e.g., Pinto-Correia 2003; Staudinger 1990; Stresemann 1958; Hachisuka 1953; Oudemans 1917b; Noll 1889). Superimposing the skeleton of the dodo onto the outline of Van Ravesteyn’s dodo (fig. 5.1) shows that the sternum has been removed, suggesting that the specimen was prepared according to the description given by Aitinger (1626/31; see above). Besselink doubted whether the painter of the dodo had ever seen a live specimen, stating that the image much resembles the picture of the red rail in the same work, and that it could be supposed that the artist “joined sections of birds together as the mood took him” (1995, 90). Hume followed this, noting that “the similarities in stance and legs [between the specimens in the work] indicate that certain illustrative aspects were derived from each other” (2006, 72). This similarity, however, is due to the stuffed nature of the models. Ziswiler (1996) remarked that the head of the dodo is very similar to that of a nestling pigeon, suggesting that it was a young bird (as did Von Liburnau 1905; Oudemans 1917b; and Stresemann 1958 [cf. Cheke and Hume 2008]). Renshaw (1938) considered it to represent a dodo chick, and Brial (1998), Fuller (2002), and Hume and Cheke (2004) suggested that it might be an immature specimen. Ziswiler (1996) further remarked that the months-long journey onboard ship and being fed an unbalanced diet led to deformation and disrupted and delayed feather changes (“gestörten und verzögertem Federwechsel”). Its dark coloration has also led some authors (e.g., Hachisuka 1953) to suggest that it was a young bird with down feathers, not having matured during the voyage to Europe. However, this is more likely to be due to its preserved nature (see above). Furthermore, if Van Ravesteyn’s bird is the same as that represented by the Prague beak (see below) then the bird was undoubtedly a large adult (see below). The Prague dodo undoubtedly represents a specimen of Raphus cucullatus. However, some authors have attributed the painting to the “White Dodo” (see chapter 4). Oudemans (1917b) considered that Van Ravesteyn’s image represented a male “White Dodo,” brought to Europe on a Portuguese ship.6 Following on from his assignment, Oudemans surmised that The Dodo and the Solitaire

the Prague beak must therefore be from a young male “White Dodo.” Renshaw (1938) and Hachisuka (1953) followed Oudemans’s designation of the dodo painting and Rothschild (see Anon. 1920) thought that it represented a young Bourbon dodo (Didus borbonica) – a species now known to be fictional. Killermann (1915) considered the dodo painting to be an early one because in an older collection of copperplate engravings, “Diversa genera Animalium etc. amoenissime N. Visscher excudit” (1630?), was supposedly found a similar dodo design, bearing the date 1610. Oudemans (1917b) remarked that he had unsuccessfully sought this engraving by Nicolas Visscher in 50 libraries and had subsequently asked Killermann if he could send a photograph of the print. Killermann obliged and Oudemans found that he was already familiar with the engraving, taken from “Volatilium varii generis effigies Nicolas de Bruijn invenit, Claesz Jansz. Visscher excudit.” (12 tabb. aen. long. 3, lat. 5 une. s. d. 1630?), and that the so-called “dodo,” placed on a tree stump, was actually a fowl-like bird, resembling the crested guineafowl (Guttera pucherani; see also chapter 4 for details of another Visscher engraving). Joris Hoefnagel also depicted a “dodo” in the work Animalia volatilia et amphibia (Aier), one of the four classical elements (vol. IV, fol. 39r).7 It was identified as a dodo in the catalog of the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., collection of Mrs. Lessing J. Rosenwald. However, Staudinger (1990) revealed that the bird was actually some kind of goose, although precise identification was not possible. In addition to the dodo of Cod. min. 130, there is another dodo, probably a preliminary study, in Cod. min. 42, fol. 119v (Staudinger 1990). It was discovered by transillumination using strong white light – a piece of paper was stuck to the parchment by adhesive tape, obscuring the dodo, which was detached in December 1988. The dodo is less detailed than that of Cod. min. 130, in, for example, the tarsal scutellation. Compared to the Cod. min. 130 dodo, it is darker overall, the iris is light brown (lighter than in Cod. min. 130), the mandible is longer, the primaries are slightly curved, the position of the left leg has been altered and the right leg is more anterior; also, the left hallux is drafted in pencil more laterally. The dodo is 22 cm long, compared with 27 cm for the Cod. min. 130 dodo (Staudinger 1996). Other works in Cod. min. 42 are by Dutch and German artists and date from 1530 to 1580. The Painting of Ja n Brueghel the Elder Another painting, Air, one of a series depicting the four elements by Jan Brueghel the Elder, also portrays the Prague dodo. It bears the date 1611. It was sold at Sotheby’s, London, in July 1993 to a private collector and is now in a private collection. More than 40 different species of birds can be identified in the painting, which are accompanied by a figure that may represent Artemis (Jackson 1993). The Brueghel dodo shows a naked face; prominent nostrils at the end of the bill; a thick neck; and dark brown plumage, skin, and beak. Only the head and neck of the dodo can be seen, but it is very similar to the Van Ravesteyn bird, indicating that it was either painted with reference to this source (Ziswiler 1996) or from the Prague specimen itself. Müllenmeister (1988) Anatomical Evidences

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speculated that Brueghel might have visited Prague, and met Savery, and seen the stuffed dodo, although the dodo and crowned crane are the only species shared between the painting and the Museum Kaiser Rudolfs II. The K assel Dodo Painting (Savery-K assel) This painting is entitled Orpheus taming the animals, and is without signature or date. It contains 150 animal species (including 60 mammalian and 80 avian; 65% European species). The painting had been kept in the warehouse of the Gemäldegalerie in Kassel, Germany, and because of this, the dodo remained unnoticed. It was rediscovered by Gregor G. M. Weber, conservator of the Gemäldegalerie, after it had been to Dresden. He sent a photograph of it to Arturo Valledor de Lozoya, who illustrated it (Valledor de Lozoya 2006). It was first mentioned in the 1749 inventory of the Gemäldegalerie, Kassel, where it was attributed to Jan van Kessel. However, it is not by Van Kessel, but shows the influence of Roelandt Savery (although neither he nor Hans II Savery is the artist [Valledor de Lozoya 2006]). Of note is the placement of the dodo in a focal point of the painting. The similarity of this dodo with that of Van Ravesteyn suggests that they might represent the same specimen, the Van Ravesteyn image representing the specimen following the ravages of time and preservational techniques (see above). Indeed, Savery-Kassel agrees with the “whitish dirty color” of Fröschl’s inventory. The painting may date to c. 1600–1605. The work also bears certain similarities to Roelandt Savery’s Garden of Eden (1601; Müllenmeister 1985, no. 94). Of note is the fact that no cassowaries are depicted – the 1597 bird may not yet have been in Rudolf’s collection. By the time Van Ravesteyn made his portrait the dodo specimen may have been several years old, dirty and damaged from taxidermy techniques, the tail plumes having fallen out. If the Prague dodo was brought back by Schuurmans’s fleet in 1603, and if this dodo is the same as that in Savery-Kassel, then another candidate for artist might be Jacob I Savery, who died of plague in Amsterdam in 1603. Reasons to doubt its creation by Roelandt or Hans II Savery are found in the striking difference between this bird and those painted by them; if it were one of theirs then one would expect its image to be repeated again in their other paintings, which is not the case. The Prague Beak At some point the Prague specimen became decayed. However, some remains were apparently saved, comprising at least the beak of the bird. This beak (figs. 5.2 and 5.3) “was found under useless old junk, lying unconsidered in a chamber” of the “old stores of the Prague Museum” in 1847 by August Carl Joseph Corda and recognized as that of the dodo (Reuss 1855; Von Frauenfeld 1868b; Valledor de Lozoya 2009).8 It was apparently discovered among items that were to be rejected during the transfer of objects to the new building. In a letter to Strickland, dated September 13, 1850 (D-184), Philip Lutley Sclater wrote,

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5.2.  The Prague beak.

What I wished to tell you was that at Prague, in the Böhmischen Museum, there is a veritable skull of the Dodo; – that is, all the frontal portion, just as much as we should leave in preparing a skin, – which I believe you are not aware of. They have also casts of the heads at Oxford and at Copenhagen. M. Max. Dormitzer, Assistent am Böhmischen Museum, Prag. No. 738/1, would be very happy to give you any information on the subject. He told me that he found the abovementioned skull among some rubbish, and that it was a long time before they made out what it was. (quoted in Strickland 1850b, 290–291)

The Böhmisches Museum later became the National Museum (Národní Muzeum),9 and in 1846 the collections moved from Sternberg Palace in Hradcˇany to the Nostic Palace in Na Prˇíkopeˇ Street. The beak was probably

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in one of the old collections in the first years after the establishment of the museum in 1820 (Reuss 1855). The beak comprises most of the facial skeleton, lacking only the jugal arches and the majority of the right palatine; the left palatine is truncated caudally. There also is a transverse cut mark just over halfway along the dorsal surface of the beak. The ventral margin of the beak shows a distinct kink, as in Van Ravesteyn’s painting, which is more pronounced than in either the Oxford or Copenhagen skulls. The Prague beak bears the catalog number “icˇ. 4389 kat. 10185,” inv. no. P6V-4389 (Bukovinská 2005). The specimen is 147 mm in length (Pavel Janda, pers. comm., January 10, 2003), making it one of the largest dodo beaks the present author has recorded, and thus probably a male specimen. The suture between the frontal processes of the premaxillae is obliterated, also indicating an adult bird. Reuss (1855) speculated that the differences between the Prague specimen and the Oxford skull were due to either age or sexual dimorphism. The Prague beak is traditionally said to have been found sometime during the nineteenth century in the Stag Moat (Jelení prˇíkop), which from the Middle Ages was used as a rubbish dump. Unfortunately, however, there is no written evidence confirming this, although in the layers deposited in the nineteenth-century have been found artifacts possibly originating in an old collection (Jan Frolík, pers. comm., May 25, 2006). Milos Andeˇra, head of the zoological department of the Národní Muzeum, stated that the fragments were probably found during excavations in the middle of the nineteenth century in the vicinity of Hradcany Castle, although remarked that it was not known for certain where they came from (Den Hengst 2003). The clean white color of the beak, however, argues against it having been buried for any length of time. In actual fact, the beak was among those items not sold during the 1782 auction, but given to Johann Zauschner for educational demonstrations at his school. Many of these were later donated to the National Museum of Prague when it was founded in the nineteenth century (Eliska Fucˇíková, pers. comm., September 5, 2006). Many damaged items and those considered uninteresting were put into an auction arranged by Josef II in 1782. Zauschner and Franz Leonard Herget selected items for aids for instruction (Fucˇiková 1998; Köpl 1889). In the January 3, 1782, auction inventory of the collections of Prague Castle, the Prague dodo, or at least its beak, may have been under one of the following: [nos.] “88, 89, 90, 91 two large and 2 smaller stuffed birds, so ruined from antiquity; | then a large skeleton of a bird”; “On bony things in naturalkammer”: [no.] “27 Sea bird with long beak”; [nos.] “28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35 different bones and beaks, probably of sea animals” (Köpl 1889, cxciii, cxcv, cxcvi). These were asked for, and received by, Zauschner on February 26, 1782 (Köpl 1889; Eliska Fucˇíková, pers. comm., September 5, 2006). Von Frauenfeld (1868b) considered Van Ravesteyn’s bird (along with Clusius’s bird) to be a female, and that the Prague beak was probably derived from it. Hachisuka stated that the Prague beak is “very small compared with that of the Oxford head” (1953, 67). This is not the case; in fact, the beak belonged to a large individual (see above). Noll (1889) thought the bird lived in Vienna and might even represent another species of dodo. Oudemans 186

The Dodo and the Solitaire

5.3.  The Prague beak (Reuss 1855, pl. i [“Lith. u. gedr. i. d. k. k. Hof-u. Staatsdrucker”]).

(1917b) and Renshaw (1938) considered the beak to be from a Réunion white dodo. Hachisuka (1953), however, examined a photograph of the specimen (from “Dr. Baum of the Museum”), and concluded that it was actually from a “Common Dodo” (Raphus cucullatus), which assignment is undoubtedly correct. Hume and Cheke (2004) thought it very probable that the beak came from either Van Ravesteyn’s bird or that of Savery-Dahlem. Comparison of Reuss (1855, pl. 1; see fig. 5.3) and the Prague beak as it is today reveals that most of the right palatine and the proximal end of the left palatine have since been broken off. Furthermore, the transverse cut mark on the dorsal surface of the dorsal nasal bar is not present in Reuss’s plate. The Národní Muzeum also possesses bones of a right hindlimb (femur, tibiotarsus, and tarsometatarsus; see fig. 5.4). The morphology and size of these elements10 indicate that they are not from the dodo, as is often assumed (Ziswiler 1996; Viktora 1998; Fuller 2002; Kallio 2005; Hume et al. 2006),11 but from a female solitaire (Pezophaps solitaria; pers. obs.). The three bones show signs of wear and in some areas matrix is still attached. The bones, donated by A. Newton, have the catalog number: “icˇ. 4388 kat. Anatomical Evidences

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5.4.  Leg bones of Pezophaps at Prague.

10184” and the tibiotarsus bears a label reading “1868.” Another repeated error is that the Národní Muzeum possesses a mandible as well as the upper beak (Van Wissen 1995; Ziswiler 1996; Kallio 2005; cf. Cheke and Hume 2008).12 Conclusions That the bird of Fröschl’s inventory is the same as Van Ravesteyn’s model and that represented by the Prague beak seems probable, as has been suggested by previous authors (e.g., Von Liburnau 1905; Ziswiler 1996; Grihault 2005b). If Rudolf received the dodo alive it probably lived in one of the vivaria that he established at Prague.13 Staudinger (1990) noted that Rudolf spent most of his time at Prague, and as such the dodo might have been kept there. There have been many speculations as to the origins of the Prague dodo. Van Wissen took the presence of the stuffed specimen to indicate that “Prague once boasted a live Dodo” (1995, 60). Fuller (2002), however, disagreed, stating that it merely indicated that a stuffed specimen was present

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in the collection and that whether or not the bird reached Europe alive is not ascertainable. Hume (2006) remarked that this specimen may have been in a bad state of decay and as such the artist of the Museum Kaiser Rudolfs II might have painted the legs from another source. This is unlikely, and whichever source was used, it was certainly from a dodo. Also illustrated in the Museum Kaiser Rudolfs II are two cassowaries (foll. 29r, 30r) and a Mauritius red rail (fol. 32r), providing further links with the Kunstkammerinventar, and suggesting to Ziswiler (1996) that these birds were once living in the menagerie at around the same time (cf. Oudemans 1917b; Cheke and Hume 2008). He added that these birds would have been brought to Europe by the first Dutch voyages to the East Indies or maybe even previously by Portuguese or Spanish ships (cf. Hachisuka 1953). Oudemans (1917b) stated that the dodo must have arrived in Prague shortly after the cassowary, as its portrait immediately follows that of the latter; he stated that the dodo might have been brought to Europe by the Portuguese c. 1600. According to Grihault (2005b), the dodo had been sent from Amsterdam as a gift to, or purchased by, Rudolf II and was kept in the aviary in the gardens at Hradcany Castle; however, there is little evidence to support this. Other suppositions – that it lived in Rudolf’s menagerie at Ebersdorf (Oudemans 1917b; Renshaw 1938; Hume and Cheke 2004); that it was the second dodo to arrive in Europe, in January 1600 (Wendt 1956); that it was imported (to Holland?) sometime between 1605 and 1610 and immediately transported to the menagerie beside Schloß Neugebäu (Stresemann 1951, 1958); that it lived in Rudolf’s menagerie c. 1604–1605 and “died a Dodo’s death around 1607” (Van Wissen 1995, 64); that it had arrived at Prague in 1604 (Valledor de Lozoya 2002a), and that it had probably been taken alive to Prague sometime between 1599 and 1609 (Hendrix 1997) – also cannot be proved with certainty. Thus, the dodo may have had a similar history to Rudolf’s cassowary, which had been brought back to Europe in August 1597 by the Eerste Schiffart. This bird spent the first few months of European captivity in Amsterdam, where visitors were charged to view it. It was then bought by Count Georg Eberhard von Solms (d. 1602), who kept it in his park at The Hague. It later passed to Ernest of Bavaria, Prince Elector of Cologne. Eventually, it was sent as a gift to Rudolf II. Rudolf had a large park in the west of the main garden in the north of Prague, in which, in 1601, he added an oisellerie for the cassowary. Stresemann (1975) thought that the cassowary had been taken to the imperial menagerie of Neugebäude, near Vienna. However, this is an error: rare animals were taken to Prague and, furthermore, Neugebäude did not house a menagerie at this time (Staudinger 1990). The cassowary probably arrived in Prague in August 1601 and was still alive in October of that year. However, it was probably dead by 1607 (as it is listed in Fröschl’s inventory). Although Clusius (1605) described the live cassowary prior to August 1601, he makes no mention of a live dodo, suggesting that the bird had not arrived in Europe by this time. That the Prague dodo was not the same specimen as that later depicted by Savery is evident from the several differences between the images of the two (pers. obs.; Den Hengst 2003; see above). Indeed, the Prague dodo may have been already stuffed by the time Savery arrived in Prague, as he failed

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to notice it (Valledor de Lozoya 2003). Van Ravesteyn’s dodo is, however, very similar to that of Clusius and both have similar body shape and stance to Savery-Kassel and these might perhaps represent the same specimen.

The Zoologisk Museum of the University of Copenhagen possesses a skull, complete with one sclerotic ring and mandible (ZMUK AVES-105485). Unfortunately, the margin of the foramen magnum, the occipital condyle and the basicranium (the ventral wall of the endocranial cavity) are missing, as is the left pterygoid, and the palatines are slightly damaged. However, both columellae appear to be intact (Jon Fjeldså, pers. comm., May 1, 2006).14 The removal of the ventral part of the braincase was most probably to extract the brain, which was a documented seventeenth century taxidermy technique (Aitinger 1626/31). The handwritten label accompanying the skull reads,

The Copenhagen Dodo Head

Didus ineptus 90. 086 Kranium. (Kallio 2005, 10)

This skull, or rather a head, was first mentioned by Adam Olearius. The specimen was part of the collection obtained by Olearius for Duke Frederick III of Schleswig-Holstein-Gottorp (1597–1659) at Schloß Gottorf for the ducal Kunstkammer. It is listed in the two printed editions of the inventory of the Kunstkammer (Olearius 1666, 1674), and figure 5 of table xiii depicts the dodo, copied from Clusius (1605), in outline with the head shaded (fig. 5.5). Killermann (1915), although noting the figure to be after Clusius, considered that the head was drawn from nature. Also shown on the plate are no. 1) the head of a pelican; no. 2) an Emeu or Casuar, with no. 3) its double feather; no. 4) the head of a spoonbill; no. 6) “Anser Magellanicus”; and no. 7) “Toucan Pica Brasilica.” Under the heading “Tabula XIII” is the following entry: No. 5. Is a head of a foreign bird which Clusius names Gallum peregrinum, Nirenbergius Cygnum cuculatnm, the Dutch name however Walghvogel, from nausea, that they are said to cause because of the hard flesh. The Dutch are said to have first encountered this bird on the island Mauritius, also has no wings, but in place has two stumps, like the Emeu [= cassowary] and penguins. Clus. exot. (Olearius 1666, 23)

5.5.  Olearius’s figure (Olearius 1674, t. xiii, fig. 5). 190

The text of the second edition, describing the dodo head (1674, 22), is repeated verbatim. Olearius’s information is derived from Clusius (1605; see chapter 4) and sheds no light on the origin of the specimen. Frederik IV of Denmark (1671–1730) annexed part of Schleswig and a royal decree of 1742 forced Karl Peter Ulrich, duke of Holstein-Gottorp, to cede his collection, presumably including the dodo head, to the crown (Gundestrup 2001). It was moved to Copenhagen in 1750 and was added to the Danish Royal Art Collection in 1751.15 The Royal Kunstkammer had no detailed inventory, although there are several inventories of the Gottorf Collection.16 In 1824 the zoological specimens were transferred to the Kongelige Naturhistoriske Museum in Stormgade (Gundestrup 2001).17 The dodo head remained undescribed until it was discovered by Johannes The Dodo and the Solitaire

5.6.  The Copenhagen skull.

Theodore Reinhardt in 1840 in “a heap of venerable rubbish” in a box labeled as containing the heads of unknown foreign birds in the collections of the Zoological Museum (Strickland 1848). His finding of the skull is described as follows: It was instructed to me in the summer of 1840 to search through a box wherein different natural products lay, which were delivered from the Kunstkammer to the königliche naturhistorische Museum, and on this occasion I found a very large bird head, which partly excited my attention by its large size, partly by its remarkable and peculiar form, and with more exact investigations and comparing with the most reliable illustrations of the Dodo, to which determining showed that it had belonged to this strange extinct bird. It has kept quite well, only the left Os pterygoideum is missing, and the Condylus occipitalis with the whole edge of the Foramen magnum is broken; otherwise it is wholly complete, so that a nearly complete description of the osteology of the head with this strange genus can be given from it. When searching Lauerentzen’s Museum regium and the handwritten catalogs of the Kunstkammer I could not find anywhere an indication that such a head would be kept in the collection, without having been recognized; it probably stands in the catalog under one of the many numbers, for which it is indicated, it is the head or the other of an unknown strange bird. I noticed, however, that this head is in all probability the Dodo head mentioned by Olearius in the year 1666 in his description of the Gottorp art museum, which later came here, since this art museum was taken at least partially to the Copenhagen one. (Reinhardt 1843a, 71–72) Anatomical Evidences

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The skull was described by Reinhardt (1843a, 1843b) and Lehmann (1843, 1845). From this unlabeled and overlooked specimen, Reinhardt concluded in 1843 that the true affinities of the dodo were with the pigeons (see chapter 6). On his visit to Copenhagen in 1845 Strickland was shown around the museum by Reinhardt, Sr. (Johannes Hagemann Reinhardt [1776–1845]) – Reinhardt, Jr., was abroad at the time: We went to the Museum of Natural History in the Strongade, where Professor Reinhardt, sen. showed me the Osteological Collection, which includes many good skeletons, especially of Cetacea and of Birds. Among the latter, the greatest treasure is a Dodo’s skull, stripped of its integuments, in excellent condition, and apparently just the size of the one in Oxford. It once belonged to an ancient “Raritäten-kammer,” called the Gottorf Museum, the contents of which were transferred a few years ago to the present collection; and among its miscellaneous contents the Dodo’s head was recently discovered. . . . Prof. Reinhardt, jun., who is now on a voyage around the world [June 25, 1845, to June 27, 1847], has prepared a memoir on it, with figures, but not yet published it. (Jardine 1858, ccxliii)

Joseph Hamel received from Daniel Eschricht a cast of the Copenhagen skull (minus the mandible), which he showed to the Academy of Sciences of St. Petersburg on May 29, 1846, and subsequently placed in their collection.18 He was able to compare this cast with the Tradescant dodo head. In May 1846 Johann Friedrich Brandt examined a cast of the Copenhagen skull, via Hamel, and in summer 1847, through the direction of Königlichen Naturhistorisches Museum at Copenhagen and the Museum of the local Academy, had a cast of the Copenhagen skull sent to him (Brandt 1848, 1867; see fig 5.7), examination of which led him to assign plover affinities to the dodo. Further casts of the Copenhagen skull had been procured and were to be shown at the 17th meeting of the BAAS, held at the Radcliffe Library in Oxford in June 1847; however, they were unfortunately “detained by the vexatious formalities of the London Custom-house” (Anon. 1848, 80). In 1862 the zoological specimens became part of the collection of the Zoological Museum (Gundestrup 2001). The origins of the Copenhagen dodo skull are not definitely known. The Gottorf Kunstkammer was founded in around 1650 in conjunction with the library at Schloß Gottorf in Schleswig (Gundestrup 2006). Olearius stated, in his forward to the catalog, that the Gottorf Kunstkammer had its origins in the collection of Bernardus Paludanus of Enkhuizen, which he brought from Holland to Gottorf in 1651 (“durch mich aus Holland in Holstein bringen und auff der Residentz Gottorff auffrichten lassen”) from the heirs of Paludanus (1666, 5). It has been suggested that the dodo head originated in the collection of Paludanus. His collection, or Wunderkammer, was widely known and was assembled over about 30 years. There are two catalogs of Paludanus’s collection. The earlier is a printed one and lists specimens collected in Europe and the Near East.19 The second, handwritten, catalog (Royal Library of Copenhagen [where the rest of the Gottorf Library is held], no. Gl.K.S. 3467, 8) dates from 1617–1618. It gives information on objects from China, Japan, the Far East, and especially India, which had been added to the collection after 1600 (Schepelern 2001). It has been suggested that the dodo head may have been obtained from Jan Huygen van Linschoten,20 who had worked for the Portuguese and had been on expeditions to India, 192

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5.7.  A cast of the Copenhagen skull (Brandt 1848, 21, 24 [“A. Agin. del.,” “C. Bernardskyˆ. sculps”]).

China, and East and West Africa, as it is likely that a significant proportion of Paludanus’s second collection was obtained from this source (Schepelern 2001). If this was the case, then the head must date from before 1592, when Van Linschoten settled in Enkhuizen, and would therefore be the oldest known specimen of a dodo (excluding subfossil remains; Van Wissen 1995). Paludanus made his will in 1628 and died in 1633. Sale of the collection was apparently considered, but due to difficulties during the Thirty Years’ War it was not until 1651 that the bulk of the collection was eventually sold to Frederick III, who incorporated it into his Kunstkammer (Schepelern 1981). However, even after the incorporation of Paludanus’s collection items continued to be added to the Gottorf Kunstkammer (Olearius 1666). Anatomical Evidences

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Despite the claims that the Gottorf dodo head was once part of Paludanus’s collection (Singer 1850; Schlegel 1854b; Van Wissen 1995; Hume 2006), there is no evidence to confirm this. Examination of both his 1603 and 1617–1618 inventories yields no mention of the dodo under any of its appellations.21 Paludanus was an observant and well-read man; in his 1617–1618 catalog he uses the nomenclature of Clusius (1605), who described and figured the dodo, and if the head of a dodo had been present in his collection at that time it is probable that Paludanus would have identified it as such. Oudemans (1917b) concluded that the head could have had one of three possible origins: first, that Paludanus obtained it in a port during his travels (although he did not accompany Van Linschoten on his journeys), second, that after his arrival home at Enkhuizen in 1591 he received the head from Portuguese (or, after 1599, from Dutch) seafarers, and third, that the head was not part of Paludanus’s collection but was brought to the Gottorf Kunstkammer by Danish seafarers. Thus, the origin of the Copenhagen head remains obscure; there are several possibilities: 1) that the head was part of Paludanus’s collection and is listed anonymously under one of the entries of beaks; 2) that it was obtained by Paludanus after the composition of his 1617–1618 inventory; or 3) it was obtained by Olearius separately, either from Danish sailors or some other source (although he would probably have commented on its origin if he had known it, as he did for other specimens in the collection). It is recorded that in 1623–1624 the Danish ship Flensburgh was in the southeast harbor of Mauritius for seven and a half months (Hachisuka 1953). As Killermann (1915) noted, Volkert Evertsz, also a Schleswig-Holsteiner, mentioned the dodo in 1662 (see chapter 1), and Olearius was also the publisher of his account. The head could have been brought to Europe as a head or it might have been part of a stuffed specimen or even a live bird. That it was once a head, rather than just a skull, is indicated by Olearius’s description (“kopff”) and the fact that it is more or less intact, with delicate elements such as the sclerotic ring still present. The statement (Hamel 1847a, 405) that Paludanus first figured the dodo head is erroneous; it is most probably due to a mistranslation of an earlier article: “Dieser Kopf stammt aus der, ürsprunglich von Paludanus gebildeten und 1651 durch den – uns so wohl bekannten – Olearius überbrachten [This head originates from that, originally formed by Paludanus and in 1651 – as is well known to us – brought by Olearius],” with “gebildeten” incorrectly translated as “figured” (Hamel 1846, 314). Lambrecht (1933) stated that the Copenhagen skull was mentioned by Clusius. This, however, is an erroneous statement, as noted by Hachisuka (1953). Morphologically, the Copenhagen skull does not show “the characteristic broadness of forehead and the angle of 140 degrees which it forms with the beak, nor the immoderately large diameter of the whole cranium” as in the Oxford head (Hamel 1847a, 405), and is about half an inch (12.7 mm) shorter than that specimen and proportionately smaller (Strickland 1848; making it c. 195.8 mm long). Hamel (1846) gave its length as 81 ∕10 inches and its maximum width as 35 ∕10 inches. The Copenhagen skull may represent a female, judging from its small size, but further data are required to confirm this. DNA analysis of a sample from the Copenhagen skull was to

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5.8.  The Copenhagen skull (Heilmann 1916, fig. 191:II).

be carried out by a group in Paris, but this was abandoned due to the difficulty of the procedure and the necessity for the removal of a small sample of bone (J. Pickering, pers. comm., November 21, 1995; Jon Fjeldså, pers. comm., February 8, 1996). Copenhagen is also sometimes stated to have a dodo foot as well as a skull (e.g., Lüttschwager 1961; Luther 1970), which is an error.

Besides the more famous Tradescant specimen there were a number of other dodo relics in Oxford. Little is known about them.

The Anatomy School Dodos

The Crosfield Dodo In his diary, Thomas Crosfield mentions the donation of a dodo to the Anatomy School at Oxford; this is the first reference to a dodo in Oxford, and indeed in England. The entry for July 15, 1634, mentioning the “Spectacula Oxon ÿ hoc anno” reads, Hierusalem in its glory, destruction – The Story deuided into 5 or 6 parts invented by mr Gosling, sometimes schollar to mr Camden, Enginer, who bestowed the Dodar (a blacke Indian bird) vpon ye anatomy schoole. His wife dying left him some meanes in a chest, wch a maid-servant cunningly getting ye key of her master conueyed away & soe he now glad to get his liuing by vsing his wits for such inventions. (fol. 68r)

The manuscript diary (library of Queen’s College, Oxford, MS. 390) begins in January 1626 and continues to November 1638, with additional entries for December 1638, January 1639/40, February 1652/53 and February 1653/54. It contains comments on social life, work, and university and public affairs, mainly in Oxford. The diary had passed to Matthew Hutchinson, a Yorkshire vicar, before the end of 1674 (Boas 1935), and was eventually purchased by the Fellows of Queen’s College from “Mr. Rodd the bookseller.” The passage relating to the dodo was subsequently brought to the attention of Strickland by the Rev. Bliss (Strickland 1849, 136). In the Norwich Mayors’ Court Books (XX NRO: 16.b, fol. 48; 28th March 1635) there is mention of a “Mr Gosling”: “william Gostlynge

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brought into this Court a lycence vnder the seale of the master of the Revelles dated the 9th day of August in the Tenth yeare of kinge Charles to shew the portraiture of the City of Ierusalem in all places for a yeare” (quoted in Galloway 1984, 219). Boas (1935) thought that the production of “Hierusalem” was probably a kind of puppet show; it is mentioned again in the Diary on July 10, 1635: “At our Act besides ye playes at ye Kings armes other things were to be seene for money, as . . . 6. Hierusalem {destruction & Reparation} at Mute Hall” (fol. 71v; quoted in Boas 1935, 79). William Gosling may be one and the same as a certain William Gostlin of Norwich, but this cannot be determined beyond doubt (Andrew Hopper, pers. comm., November 7, 2005). Boas (1935) also considered that the reference to “Mr Camden” might be a mistake by Crosfield for John Tradescant. However, this is unlikely. A “Camden” is mentioned later in the Diary: “Aug. 28 The presents given to ye . . . Queene Camdens Elizabeth” (fol. 77v, August 28, 1636; quoted in Boas 1935, 90). This suggests that “Mr Camden” might be William Camden (1551–1623), the English antiquary, headmaster of Westminster School, and author of Annales Rerum Gestarum Angliae et Hiberniae Regnante Elizabetha (1615, 1625). Oudemans (1917b) and Hachisuka (1953) considered Crosfield’s “dodar” to be “a very dark female specimen” (Hachisuka 1953, 58). Hume (2006) thought that the bird might have been melanistic or not even a dodo at all; Dissanayake (2004) also thought it was doubtful. This designation, however, cannot be verified and the color was probably in fact due to its preserved nature. Renshaw (1931) supposed that it was probably a bird salted by mariners for provisions. Stresemann (1958) even stated that Gosling’s bird was almost certainly a cassowary, noting that the brothers De Bry, in their edition of Van Neck’s account (1601), had depicted dodos as cassowaries. Despite this, there is no reason to regard the Anatomy School bird as anything but a dodo. That Gosling donated the dodo to the Anatomy School (part of the Bodleian Library) is not surprising, as there is frequent mention of various kinds of natural and artificial curiosities being sent to the library, as a “general repository,” by London merchants having trade with the East Indies (Macray 1868). The Anatomy School, Oxford Strickland (1849) stated that the location of the “Anatomy Schoole” was unknown, as the one in existence then was founded in 1750. This was the Christ Church Anatomy School; the Anatomy School mentioned by Crosfield was almost certainly that once housed in the Bodleian Library. This Anatomy School was housed in a first-floor room on the south range of the Bodleian Library Quadrangle (built in 1613), on the west side. It was about 60 feet (18.3 m) long by 25 feet (7.6 m) wide, with three windows on the south side, one on the west, and two on the north, overlooking the quadrangle. In it were displayed the first natural history collections of the University of Oxford, which had been there since the 1620s (Hunter 2001). Above the Anatomy School was the Library. Initially the specimens housed

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there were complementary to the anatomy lectures. The Anatomy School belonged to the University and had no full-time staff, and supervision of the collection was the responsibility of the Bodleian Library employees (Ovenell 1983). Sometime between and August 7 and 16, 1639, Peter Mundy, who had previously seen dodos in India (see chapter 1), visited the “Anatomy Schoole, w[h]ere among the rest were . . . some rarities, such as a seahorse scull, dodoes, straunge Fowles, Fishes, shells, etts” (quoted in Temple 1907, 4:26).22 Note here the plural: “dodoes.” Subsequent visitors to the Anatomy School included John Evelyn, Charles II, and Zacharias Conrad von Uffenbach, although none mentioned the dodo. Generally, natural rarities that were presented to the University went to the Anatomy School, rather than the Bodleian, even when their donor intended them for that repository (Hunter 2001). The Ashmolean Museum opened in 1683 and lectures previously given in the Anatomy School were subsequently moved there. Ashmole’s request “that ye rarities belonging to ye Universitie in ye Anatomy school (except what are necessary for ye Anatomy lecture)” be placed in the Ashmolean was not complied with entirely (Gunther 1925, 305). Some specimens may have been transferred, but the School “appears to have been used exclusively as a gallery” where visitors were shown curiosities (Gunther 1925, 256). Hyde mentioned the dodo, “of which . . . stuffed relics are preserved in the Anatomy Theater of Oxford” (1700, 312; see chapter 1), which might pertain to the Anatomy School. By 1710 the Anatomy School collection was, as noted by Uffenbach, “in great disorder, full of dust and soot” (quoted in Gunther 1925, 277). At this time the custodian was the junior librarian, Thomas Hearne (Davies and Hull 1976). The dodos are mentioned in an inventory of the Anatomy School of c. 1675, “Catalogus Rariorum in Schola Anatomicâ Oxoniensi,” compiled by one of the officials of the Bodleian Library. The following entries are from List A in MS. Rawlinson D. 912, foll. 201–202,23 (the accompanying numbers are from List C compiled by Thomas Hearne,24 1705–1709; the entries for the dodo dating from no later than May 19, 1705): “157, 158 Dodo” (quoted in Gunther 1925, 262). List B in the same MS (foll. 203–204, in another hand; entries grouped according to their position in the room, the dodo being in the “South Parte”) gives: “2 doadoes” (fol. 204r). The entries for the dodo from List D, a copy of Hearne’s catalog of 1705–1709, compiled by Richard Rawlinson (MS Rawlinson C. 865), “An exact and particular Account of the rarities in the Anatomy School transcribed from the original copy in Mr. Tho: Hearnes hands by me R. Rawlinson Octobr. 1709,” are given below: 157. Dodoe’s Head. 158. Couple of Dodoes. (fol. 13v) In his Oxoniensis Academia, John Pointer lists the dodos under the heading “Birds” in “A Catalogue of some few of which Rarities [of the

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Ashmolean Museum] (together with some of those in the AnatomySchool)”: “26. Dodar-Birds, one of which watches whilst the other stoops down to drink” (1749, 157). This scene of the two dodos is reminiscent of the Savery-Crocker dodos (see chapter 3). Despite Pointer’s statement that the rarities of the Anatomy School were kept separate from those of the Ashmolean, he stated that he mixed them in his list. Ovenell suggested that a report stating that “Dodar-Birds” could be seen in the Ashmolean Museum in 1749 was “almost certainly an error, arising from the confusion caused by Pointer having included in his list specimens from both the Anatomy School and the Ashmolean Museum” (1992, 145). As five out of the six other birds (the exception being the pelican) Pointer listed were to be found in the Anatomy School collections, it suggests that the dodos were as well. The construction of Christ Church Anatomy School in 1757 led to the eventual replacement of the Bodleian one (Davies and Hull 1976). In the period 1789–1805 the Anatomy School was cleared away, having lost most of its specimens, and the room named the Auctarium Bibliothecae Bodleianae and fitted out for books (Davies and Hull 1976; Gunther 1925; Arthur MacGregor, pers. comm., July 2006). Some specimens, at least, were transferred to the Ashmolean (Davies and Hull 1976), but no further record of the dodos can be found. It is possible that at least one of the Anatomy School dodos was donated by Thomas Herbert, as he is potentially listed in the catalog of 1709 (MS Rawlinson c. 865) as having donated a fruit bat: “246. An Indian Batt. [From Mauritian Islands. Mr. Tho. Herbert. E]” (Gunther 1925, 266); this specimen is also mentioned by Uffenbach (1710): “a frightful large Indian Bat, over an ell broad across the outstretched wings” (quoted in Gunther 1925, 276). The fact that Herbert does not mention bringing back a dodo in his Relation of Some Yeares Travaile (1634) does not indicate that he did not, as there is no mention of him collecting a bat either. Furthermore, he is known to have made a donation of manuscripts to the Bodleian Library in 1666 (Macray 1868). It is interesting to note that the two sources to use the name “dodar” are both related to Oxford: Crosfield’s diary, and the 1656 catalog of the Tradescant’s Museum. However, when the latter was compiled the collection was in at South Lambeth, not Oxford, its later residence.

The first description of a relic of the dodo was given by Clusius (1605, 100; see chapter 4). He saw a “leg therof cut off at the knee”25 at the house of Petrus Pawius in Leiden. Unfortunately, nothing else is known of this specimen. Pauwius died in 1617 and the “subsequent history of his collection and the Dodo leg remains ill-documented” (Van Wissen 1995, 70). Brandt (1848) posited that Clusius had used Pauwius’s dodo foot as a reference for the feet of his illustration of the dodo. Clusius also saw “an elegant bird of the greater sort [of bird of paradise], & bigger also than the rest of this kind in the house of the famous man Petrus Pauwius, doctor of medicine & primary professor in the University of Leiden, this figure carefully portrayed in the book and presented” (Clusius 1605, 360, with woodcut of the specimen).

Petrus Pauwius’s Dodo Foot

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The Dodo and the Solitaire

It has been stated that Clusius saw the foot at the “Theatrum Anatomicum” in Leiden (e.g., Den Hengst 2003). However, the text says apud (close by, with, at, before), suggesting that it was at Pauwius’s house and, therefore, probably part of his personal collection, his Naturalienkabinet. Blainville (1835), having sought it in the anatomy collection at Leiden and also in the cabinet of the College of Surgeons of Amsterdam, without success, stated that Pauwius’s dodo foot was no longer in Holland. Considering that it might be the same as the BM foot, Blainville concluded that as the nail of the middle toe was the longest in the latter specimen, and as it was the nail of the hallux which was the longest in Pauwius’s specimen (according to Clusius), that this was not, in fact, the case. Furthermore, in his list of the relics of the dodo extant in 1681, Blainville (1835) gave separate entries for the Royal Society dodo foot and the foot in the cabinet of the successors of Pauwius in Holland, indicating that he considered these to be distinct specimens. Strickland remarked, “All trace of this specimen is now lost. It is not mentioned in the ‘Catalogue of all the cheifest rarities in the publick Theater and Anatomie-Hall of the University of Leiden,’ 4to., Leiden, 1678; nor in a later edition of that Catalogue, published by Gerrard Blancken, in 1707; nor in the apparently contemporary tract entitled ‘Res curiosæ et exoticæ in Ambulacro Horti Academici, Lugduno-Batavi conspicuæ;’ nor in two old catalogues of wet preparations preserved at Leyden, all which are bound together in a volume in the Bodleian Library (Linc. F. 1. 3 1.)” (1848, 16). Millies (1868) also stated that Pauwius’s dodo foot was apparently lost. Clusius’s (1605) remark, “its leg, cut off as far as the knee, . . . recently brought out of Mauritius,” suggests that Pauwius’s foot was a dried foot brought from Mauritius, rather than part of a once complete specimen. This would also be in accordance with the posture of the BM foot. The measurements of Pauwius’s dodo foot were as follows: length (tarsus) >4 inches (10.29 cm); circumference almost 4 inches (10.29 cm); middle toe not much over 2 inches (5.15 cm); toes next to middle toe barely 2 inches (5.15 cm); hind toe 11/2 inches (3.86 cm); claws less than 1 inch (2.57 cm) long; claw of hind toe over an inch (2.57 cm) long (from Clusius 1605).26 In addition to the foot, Pauwius also possessed a “Mergus maximus Farrensis or Arcticus” (a diver), an “Anas arctica” (a puffin), and a “Yuana, lizard genus” (loaned to Clusius). Robert Hubert’s Dodo Foot

The British Museum Dodo Foot

A preserved leg of a dodo is recorded as being in the collection of Robert Hubert, “alias Forges, Gent. and sworn Servant to His Majesty.” This specimen is listed in the three editions of his “Catalogue of Many Natural Rarities, With Great Industry, Cost, and thirty Years travel in Foraign Countries” (Hubert 1664, 1665, n.d.): “A Legge of a Dodo a great heavy bird that cannot fly; it is a bird of the Mauricius Islan” (Hubert 1664, 9). These rarities were “dayly to be seen, at the place called the Musick House, at the Miter, near the West end of St. Pauls Church” (Hubert 1664, title page). In a later edition of the catalog the location is described as “the

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place formerly called the Musick House,” near the west end of St. Paul’s Catherdral (Hubert 1665). According to Ben Hebbert, it was located in St. Paul’s Alley, at the location later known as the “Goose and Gridiron.” A lack of records makes it difficult to place the Miter exactly, although Hebbert suggests that it was on the eastern side of St. Paul’s Alley, near the Turk’s Head Coffee House and a tenement called the Wheatsheaf. No maps or documents record the Miter prior to 1662, in which year it is mentioned as being demised to William Paget. It is not known when Hubert moved into the Miter; he may have done so when Paget’s music business began there (Ben Hebbert, pers. comm., April 17, 2005). The undated edition of the catalog, MS Ashmole 967, in the Bodleian Library (Hubert n.d.) has been stated to be the earliest version (Hunter 1989). However, as the location is stated to be “the place formerly called the Musique-House at the West end of Pauls” this suggests that it was published after 1664. Prefacing the inventory of this edition it states that the rarities were viewable “every afternoon” (Hubert n.d., 1). At least some of Hubert’s collection was potentially for sale, as indicated at the end of the catalog; whether this also comprised items listed in the catalog, or only those objects kept in “Chests and Boxes,” which were not inventoried, is not entirely clear. Hubert also lists the benefactors to the collection, although, unfortunately, there is no indication as to the donor of the leg of the dodo. According to Major (1664), Hubert received his collected from Charles I, during the English Civil War. In 1639 “Mr Hubertts rarities by Charing Crasse [sic]” were mentioned by Peter Mundy (see chapter 1).27 Hubert was most probably a Royalist and left England during the Commonwealth period. He exhibited his collection in Leipzig in 1651 (and a catalog was published) and later in Hamburg (Sachse de Lewenheimb 1665). Hubert may have spent some of his exile during the English Civil War in the West Indies and North America, judging from comments regarding specimens made in his catalogs. He stated that he spent thirty years traveling and collecting around mainland Europe. During this time he probably exchanged some of his rarities, collected during his American travels, with the owners of other collections. According to Hebbert, “Hubert had [likely] sustained himself in Europe using the collateral of a collection of American specimens to gain entrance into courts and academic institutions, enabling him to form the broader collection through exchange and patronage as it was catalogued in 1664” (pers. comm., April 17, 2005). This may have been how he acquired the leg of the dodo. There is brief mention of Hubert in the Calendar of State Papers, Domestic Series, Charles II, for May 1662: “Robt. Hubert de Forge . . . His Majesty, on sight of part of his collection of rarities, promised him the place of Gentleman Usher, but he lost it by his absence, when sent into divers parts of Germany to fetch the remainder of his rarities, collected in many foreign courts during his exile” (55:390). This return to England coincided with William Paget’s move to St. Paul’s Alley; they probably met and set up business together in the same building (Hebbert, pers. comm., April 17, 2005). On January 23, 1665, Hubert placed an advertisement in The Intelligencer to attract visitors to his collection. The following year was the Great Fire, which devastated much of London, including the area around St. Paul’s. 200

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5.9.  “Head of ye Albitros” (Grew 1685, t. 6).

Hubert gives provenance for some of his specimens, making it possible to trace them into the collections of the Royal Society. Interestingly, comparing Hubert’s catalogs with each other it can be seen that some specimens are absent from the undated one. One such relic is the head of an albatross, which could be the same as the albatross head later mentioned by Grew in his 1681 catalog of the Royal Society’s Repository (fig. 5.9). It tentatively suggests that Hubert sold off his collection piecemeal, as he offered to do in his catalogs. The Royal Society Dodo Foot The first Keeper of the Respository of the Royal Society was Robert Hooke, who was appointed in 1662 (MacGregor 1994). The Museum, or Repository, of the Royal Society was modeled after the University Museum of Leiden, with the rarities “put up into boxes . . . and the beasts and birds hanging around the room” (Macky 1722 [see Gunther 1925]). On August 19, 1664, “it was recommended to Mr Povey, to treat with Mr Hubbard about his Collection of Curiosities” (Correspondence Committee [D. M. 5. 68], fol. 1; quoted in Hunter 1989, 120). “Mr Hubbard” has been identified as Robert Hubert (Murray 1904; see above). In February 1665/66 Hubert’s collection was purchased.28 Hooke wrote to Robert Boyle on February 3, 1666, “I am now making a collection of natural rarities, and hope, within a short time, to get as good as any have been yet made in the world, through the bounty of some of the noble-minded persons of the Royal Society” (quoted in Hunter 1989, 127). On February 21, the council decided that the £50 given to the Society in December 1663, and the same amount given by Daniel Colwall, should be used “to pay for the collection of rarities formerly belonging to Mr. Hubbard” (Birch 1756, 64). Having added to the Society’s collection, Hooke wrote to Boyle on March 21, 1665/66, “Our collection of rarities at Gresham college is now very well worth your perusal” (quoted in Hunter 1989, 127). A notice in the Philosophical Transactions for October 22, 1666, mentioned that a “Considerable Collection of Curiosities” “lately presented” by Daniel Colwall were to be seen in the repository. In spring 1666, a committee was set up to order the rarities and Robert Hooke was set to catalog them. However, due to the disorder caused by the Great Fire of 1666, and also by the lack of time for Hooke to organise them, the rarities remained in Hooke’s rooms at Gresham until March 1676, when Anatomical Evidences

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they were moved to a gallery in the north wing of the College. It was subsequently decided to move the collection to the west gallery, which occurred between February 3 and 6, where they were arranged in order (Hunter 1989). Early in 1676 the committee decided that Nehemiah Grew and Abraham Hill “be decided to make a Catalogue of all the said Rarities” (Hunter 1989, 142). Ultimately, it was Grew who was to make the catalog; it was “Ordered That Dr Grew be desired, at his leasure, to Make a Catalogue and Description of the Rarities belonging to this Society” (Council Meeting, July 18, 1678 [Hunter 1989, 142]). Grew worked on this over the next few months and read parts of it at Society meetings in April and May 1679, when it was “fitted for the press” (Hunter 1989, 142). Catalogs of the collection, arranged according to the classification of Wilkins (published in Wilkins 1668), were started by Hooke in the 1660s and John Aubrey in the 1670s, but neither has survived (Hunter 2001). However, the completed catalog by Grew (see below) did not follow this classification (Hunter 2001). In 1677 Nehemiah Grew took over the custodianship of the Repository, and in 1681 published the first catalog of the Society’s collection. This inventory was republished in 1685 and 1686. Grew was named as curator, and in 1678 appointed a full-time servant, Henry Hunt, to take care of the Repository (MacGregor 1994). Hunt became the keeper of the Repository toward the end of Hooke’s life, although it continued to be housed in Hooke’s rooms, and Hooke still regarded it as “his” (Jardine 2003). One of his responsibilities was to show the visitors round. Grew’s catalog entry for the leg of the dodo reads, The leg of a dodo. Called Cygnus Cucullatus, by Nierembergius; by Clusius, Gallus Gallinaceus Peregrinus; by Bontius called Dronte; who saith, That by some it is called (in Dutch) Dod-aers. Largely described in Mr. Willughby’s Ornithol. out of Clusius and others. He is more especially distinguished from other Birds by the Membranous Hood on his Head, the greatness and strength of his Bill, the littleness of his Wings, his bunchy Tail, and the shortness of his Legs. Abating his Head and Legs, he seems to be much like an Ostrich; to which also he comes near, as to the bigness of his Body. He breeds in Mauris’s Island. The Leg here preserved is cover’d with a reddish yellow Scale. Not much above four inches [101.6 mm] long; yet above five [127 mm] in thickness, or round about the Joynts: wherein, though it be inferior to that of an Ostrich or a Cassoary, yet joyned with its shortness, may render it of almost equal strength. (Grew 1681, 60–61)

Later, mention is made of the head of an albatross, which was thought by some to be the head of a dodo: The head of the man of war; called also Albitrosse. Supposed by some to be the Head of a Dodo. But it seems doubtful. That there is a Bird called The Man of War, is commonly known to our Sea-men; and several of them who have seen the Head here preserved, do affirm it to be the Head of that Bird [ . . . ] Whereas the Dodo is hardly a Volatile Bird, having little or no Wings, except such as those of the Cassoary and the Ostrich. Besides, although the upper Beak of this Bill, doth much resemble that of the Dodo; yet the nether is of a quite different shape. So that either this is not the Head of a Dodo, or else we have no where a true figure of it. (73)

The dodo is also mentioned later in the text: “The Picture of a basilisk. Pretended by those that shew it, to be a real Animal so call’d. But is an Artificial Thing, made chiefly of the Skin of the Raja, and the Legs of a

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Dodo, or some great Fowl. Given by [the merchant] Ellis Crisp, Esq.” (part 4, “Of Mechanicks,” 376). The text of the 1685 and 1686 editions concerning the dodo is repeated verbatim. The head of the “Man of War” is figured in plate six of the 1685 edition (“Head of ye Albitros”) and, indeed, the illustration depicts the dried skull of an albatross, complete with bill sheaths.29 Owen and Broderip noted that “Grew was a well qualified observer, and much of this [the above] description implies observation and comparison; indeed, although he does not refer to it, there is no reason for supposing that Grew was not familiar with Tradescant’s specimen” (1866, 6). Grew’s citations show the breadth of his learning and some works were bought especially for his use by the Society (Hunter 2001). Stresemann (1958), unable to reconcile the color of this dodo foot with that of contemporary paintings, even suggested that it might have been painted! However, this is almost certainly not the case (see chapter 6). In his Ononasticon Zoicon, Charleton noted that a “separate head of this [bird] with bill & cowl is among the rarities of the Royal Society London” (1668, 114). There was, of course, a relic of the dodo in the Royal Society collections, but probably not a head; this may refer to the skull of the albatross, mentioned above (mihi; Blainville 1835, cf. Shaw and Nodder 1792–1794). In AMS 13, Liber Domini Principalis Colegii Æni Nasi (catalog of the Ashmolean collections, c. 1756),30 under the heading “Avium exoticarum rostra [beaks of exotic birds]” is yet another reference to the similarity of the heads of the dodo and the albatross (MacGregor et al. 2000, 203): 30 Beak of a bird from the Americas called Albatross. Grew (1681, 73, tab. 6); see also Ligon (1657, 61). Perhaps related to the Hooded swan of Nieremberg, for the beak of each is similar. (translation after MacGregor et al. 2000, 204)

In 1699 Ned Ward described the Museum as containing “an aviary of dead birds” (quoted in MacGregor 1983, 87). In 1710 Zacharias Conrad von Uffenbach visited and described the Repository: “[The Museum] consists of what appear to be two long narrow chambers, where lie .  .  . articles. . . . not only in no sort of order or tidiness but covered with dust, filth and coal-smoke” (quoted in MacGregor 1994, 20).31 Hunt was in charge of the Repository when the Society’s premises were moved to Crane Court in 1710. Here a gallery was built for the collection and the objects were rearranged. When Hunt died in 1713 his successor was Alban Thomas. Following a report of 1729, Cromwell Mortimer was appointed to compile a catalog of the specimens and in 1730 he implemented a new classification (Hunter 2001). In 1781 the contents of the Royal Society’s Repository passed into the collections of the BM (Killermann 1915; Whitehead 1970).32 The British Museum Dodo Foot The next mention of the foot is in Shaw and Nodder’s Naturalist’s Miscellany, (1792–1794), under the heading “The Leg Of A Dodo”: A very short time since however, on cursorily examining several miscellaneous articles in one of the apartments of the British Museum, in company with that very ingenious artist Mr. Reinagle junr, we had the good fortune to discover a

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leg, which even at first view appeared of so peculiar an aspect that it instantly suggested the idea of the bird in question. On farther examination it was still less to be doubted that it must really have belonged to that curious bird; and on collating it with the description given by Grew in his Museum Regalis Societatis, it agreed in all points with the measurements there particularized. I therefore accompany the figure, here given, which is represented of the natural size, with the description from the work above of Grew, and it is with peculiar pleasure that I embrace the opportunity of presenting my readers with so interesting a curiosity. (1792–1794, 4:pl. 143; see plate 16)

Shaw then proceeded to give Grew’s description of the Royal Society dodo foot (see above). The “artist Mr. Reinagle junr” is probably Philip Reinagle (1748–1833), son of the artist Joseph Reinagle. In the January 4, 1834, Penny Magazine is the following notice: Mr. Reinagle, the eminent artist, has sent us a letter confirmatory of the existence of the Dodo, of which an account was given in the 75th Number of the “Penny Magazine.” Mr. R. states, that while he was, for several years, engaged in the study of zoology, he had frequent occasion to hold discussions with Dr. Shaw of the British Museum, and with Messrs. Parkinson, on subjects in zoology of rare existence. He was on one occasion invited to spend a whole day with Dr. S. at the Museum, where he amused himself with a general examination of the numerous objects of natural history, unstuffed birds, animals, and reptiles, which were heaped together in the then lumber-room. After turning over a vast pile, he discovered the head and beak, with the short thick legs, of a bird, which instantly struck him to be those of the Dodo. Mr. R. immediately ran with the relics to Dr. Shaw, who in the end concurred with him in considering the remains as those of the Dodo, the existence of which seemed to them no longer questionable. Mr. R. has not been able to learn what became of the fragments, but they ought still to be somewhere in the British Museum. (Anon. 1834, 4)

Strickland commented, If Mr. Reinagle’s reminiscences were correct, this statement is of great interest and importance, and it is surprising that no attention has been given to it. I therefore beg to ask whether there is any reason to suppose that these relics are still “somewhere in the British Museum”? N.B. Of course they have no reference to the well-known Dodo’s leg in the Bird Gallery, which has never been lost sight of since the days of Grew. (1852, 310)

5.10.  A sketch by John Edward Gray of the Tradescant dodo foot and the British Museum foot. Label reads, “Oxford Specimen. Length a. Right foot Length. 8 inches & half from joint to end of middle toe [British] Museum Specimen. B. left foot Length. 9 inch and a half.” 204

There are some points to be noted here: first, the dodo foot cataloged by Grew was apparently “lost sight of,” as proven by Shaw’s account above. Second, the mention of a dodo head in the collection may have been a mistake for that of an albatross or similar bird (see above). Strickland’s query was answered by “C. de D.,” who indicated that the account in Penny Magazine was not quite correct and that from Shaw’s Naturalist’s Miscellany it was clear that only the foot of the dodo was found (“C. de D.” 1854, 528). Yet Strickland was familiar with Shaw’s statement and it is unlikely that he would have ignored it. Shaw and Nodder’s (1792–1794) accompanying plate shows what appears to be the tendon of m. tibialis cranialis, although this is not apparent in later figures, photographs or casts. The foot is a “cabinet specimen,” i.e., the hallux is at right angles to the other toes, which are not in a standing position (Hume 2006). This suggests that it was severed fresh and brought back to Europe, or was cut from a stuffed prostrated cabinet specimen, as opposed to a posed specimen (Hume 2006; pers. obs.). The Dodo and the Solitaire

In the Synopsis of the Contents of the British Museum (1808) there is brief mention of “a leg of the Dodo, in a glass” on Table 1 in Room XI (“Birds and Quadrupeds, stuffed”) of the upper floor of the museum (Anon. 1808, xxxiii, 48). Cuvier mentioned “a foot preserved in the British Museum” (1817, 463), which he saw while he was visiting England. Cuvier visited England again in 1830 and compared the BM foot with bones of Pezophaps. J. E. Gray sketched the BM foot alongside the Oxford one sometime during the period 1824–1828 (Hume et al. 2006; fig. 5.10).33 His sketch of the BM specimen shows a left foot, further indicated by the label “Specimen. B. left foot Length. 9 inch and a half [241 mm].” As the BM specimen is a right foot it is difficult to see how this error occurred (the Oxford foot was also mistakenly identified as a right foot). Thompson mentioned the foot in the BM, “of which I had the satisfaction of examining on my return from Mauritius in 1816” (1829, 444; see fig. 5.11). Blainville visited the BM and was allowed by Gray to examine the foot and sketch it. Blainville described it as “in good condition of conservation” (1835, 2) and gave figures of it in his work (see fig. 5.12). Carl Gustav Carus was shown the foot by Gray in 1844 (Carus 1845), and in 1847 the BM sent the dodo foot to Oxford to be exhibited at the meeting of the BAAS, held at the Radcliffe Library in June of that year (Anon. 1848). Melville studied the anatomy of the foot (see below) and it was illustrated in his and Strickland’s monograph (1848; see fig. 5.14). In the period 1881–1883 the natural history collections were moved from the BM to a purpose-built construction in South Kensington. This later became separate from the BM, and is today known as the Natural History Museum. At some stage the foot was lost. Mention is made in a “Guide to the Gallery of Birds in the Department of Zoology of the British Museum (Natural History)” from 1905 of the dried right-foot, exhibited in the Gallery along with other remains of the dodo and solitaire in Table-cases 19 and 20 (Ogilvie-Grant 1905). It was shown in photographs beside the reconstructed skeleton of the dodo (fig. 5.15).34 Sebastian Killermann (1915) stated that he saw the foot in 1909 in a display case along with various other relics of the dodo. Edwin Ray Lankester also stated that the foot is “in the Natural History Museum” (1905, 27). A photograph by John Benjamin Stone taken in July 190735 may also show the foot rather than a cast. Another photograph, by Herbert George Herring, given by Zur Strassen (1911: Taf. “Regenpfeifervögel IV,” fig. 4; see fig. 5.15) also apparently shows the specimen. Careful comparison reveals that the Herring photograph is not of a cast, but of the original foot as it shows much more detail than the casts (such as the detailed morphology and clear definition of individual scutes, and some of the tiny scutes on the digital pads of digit II). In two guide books to the “Department of Geology and Palaeontology in the British Museum (Natural History)” from 1909 and 1934, there is mention that “a reconstructed skeleton, with plaster casts of the head and foot, of the extinct dodo . . . is exhibited in Case CC, and there are other bones in Wall-case 25. This bird is better illustrated in the Department of Zoology” (Woodward 1909, 90; Anon. 1934a, 6). It is not stated whether the cast of the foot mentioned is that of the BM or the Tradescant specimen, but suggests Anatomical Evidences

5.11.  Figure of the BM foot, although this looks somewhat different from the actual specimen (Thompson 1829, fig. 108).

5.12. The BM foot (Blainville 1835, pl. iii, figs. i, ii [“G. de Bièvre lith.” “Lith. de Langlumé”]). The foot is depicted in reverse. Figures drawn by M. Prêtre. 205

5.13.  Broderip’s figure of the foot (Broderip 1837, 52).

that by this time the original foot had been replaced by a cast. It may be that the foot was removed from display and not returned, for we find no further evidence of it after 1909. Although Hachisuka (1953) stated that the foot still reposed in the BM he gave no evidence to confirm this fact, and Knox and Walters remarked that the foot had not been found “for many years” (1994, 134). Den Hengst related that “the curators at Tring suggest rather mischievously that it might never have belonged to the British Museum at all” (2003, 89), although this is certainly not the case, as demonstrated by the evidence above.

5.14.  Dorsal, medial, and plantar views of the BM dodo foot. Originally made for Gray (1849), but permitted to be used for Strickland and Melville’s work (Strickland and Melville 1848, pl. vi [“Jos Dinkel del et lith.” “Printed by Hullmandel & Walton”]). 206

The Dodo and the Solitaire

Hume (2006; Hume et al. 2006) overlooked the error made by Gray and Newton (1875–1889) that the BM foot was a left foot. Hume et al. stated that the last definite mention of the foot including soft tissue was in c. 1848, giving Richardson (1851) as an example.36 They remarked that the foot’s “soft tissue had decayed or been dissected” and that “today the so-called missing foot .  .  . consists only of bone (after being cast) and researchers looking for the soft tissue specimen, are in fact, searching for the wrong type of material” (Hume et al. 2006, 51–52). However, there is no such osteological specimen of recent origin to match this in the collections of the NHM, either at London or Tring (pers. obs.). Herring’s photograph strongly suggests that the foot was intact in the early twentieth century. Strickland (1848) described the foot as being in “excellent preservation” and Brandt (1848) also mentioned that the BM foot was still covered with skin, which was after casting occurred. Furthermore, Melville, in his correspondence with Strickland (1847–1848), made no reference to damage done to the foot. Another misconception is that the foot lies somewhere in the NHM collections at Tring, Hertfordshire, in the Rothschild Museum. There is no evidence that the specimen was ever moved there and a typed note inserted in Hachisuka’s Dodo and Kindred Birds (1953) at the NHM’s Library (Zoology 18A q H) provides the Museum’s opinion:

5.15.  The last known images of the BM foot? A photograph in Zur Strassen (1911) with the legend, “Dried foot of Didus ineptus Linn., in the British Museum. [ . . . ] Herb. G. Herring – London phot.” Inset: A photograph taken by Mr. R. B. Lodge, originally shown in Ogilvie-Grant (1905, pl. ii, fig. 2), later reproduced by Lankester (1905, fig.17 [from whence this image was taken; its caption: “the dried foot. . . in the Natural History Museum”]).

The desiccated right foot of the Dodo allegedly in the British Museum: Graham Cowles, of the Bird Section, Tring, informs us that this specimen was apparently first mentioned in Encyclopedia Britannica. However it has never been found or registered at Tring and therefore he considers the specimen has either gone astray or has never really been in the collection and this error has been perpetuated by various authors. For further information see P. J. P. Whitehead, “Museums in the History of Zoology” Museums Journal 70 (2) p.50–57 and 70 (4) p.155–160 1970–1 (Z. 3 A q W). J[ennifer] J[effrey] 7th July 1981.

As several subsequent authors have remarked, the foot “has now been lost. Whether stolen, accidentally destroyed or simply misfiled is not known”

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5.16.  Cast of the foot in the Palaeontology Department of the NHM (BMNH A3509).

(Fuller 2002, 120). Kitchener mentioned that “once there was a dried foot there [at the NHM], but its whereabouts are now unknown. Fortunately, though, there was a plaster cast that I could study” (1990, 514). Kallio remarked, “It is unclear whether or not the Natural History Museum, London, has a Dodo foot in their collection. After several evasive answers to my queries about the whereabouts of this object, it became obvious that nobody knew where it was located. The original object seems to be lost somewhere in the vast collection rooms of the museum. Fortunately there is

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an excellent cast available [BMNH A3509], which has been painted to match the original colour” (2005, 25). That the specimen was present in the collections of the BM as a whole foot up until the early twentieth century is indicated by the guidebooks to the collections, by Killermann’s mention, and by Herring’s photograph. As the foot was cast before 1841 (as evidenced from information accompanying the Hancock Museum cast), Strickland and Melville’s (1848) plate shows that it was still complete following this procedure. We do, however, have measurements for the foot. The BM foot was one inch longer than the foot of the Tradescant specimen according to Gray (Anon. 1828) and Blainville (1835), being six inches (16.24 cm) in length, and about half an inch (1.35 cm) [sic] wide at the base of the digits, with the latter being only five (13.53 cm).37 Hachisuka (1953) gave its length as 240 mm. Broderip provided further measurements of the specimen (data from J. E. Gray): “Knee to ancle [i.e., length of tarsus] 41/2 inches [11.43 cm]; circumference 4 inches [10.16 cm]; middle toe 3 inches [7.62 cm]; back toe 11/2 inch [3.81 cm]; front claws, which are much worn, 8 lines [1.69 cm]; back claw, also much worn, shorter” (1837, 47). Melville (1848) gave the length of the hallux (proximal phalanx plus ungual) as about 2 inches (50.8 mm). Luckily, although the original is not now available for study, there are numerous casts in institutions around the world (see fig. 5.16). A cast of the foot was also available for purchase from the BM for two shillings (Anon. 1856a). In addition to the foot of the dodo there are other specimens that have been listed by various authors but are not now apparent in the collections (pers. obs.): a cast of the Tradescant dodo head (three were mentioned by Salvadori 1893, although only two were listed by Knox and Walters 1994)38 and a cast of the Prague beak (also seen by Killermann in 1909; Salvadori 1893; Lambrecht 1933). The BM foot is a right foot, although some previous authors have mistakenly described it as a left one,39 possibly due to the reversal of figures in prints (e.g., plate 16). It was not from the same individual as the Tradescant specimen, as the latter was complete when the BM foot was present in Hubert’s and the Royal Society collections. Furthermore, there is a difference in size – the BM specimen being larger. Strickland (1848) assumed that the foot listed by Hubert, that cataloged by Grew, and that in the BM collections were one and the same. The foot passed, along with the other material in the Repository of the Royal Society, into the collections of the BM. That Hubert’s, the Royal Society and the BM specimens are identical (e.g., Griffith 1829; Broderip 1837; Strickland 1848; Reuss 1855) is fairly well established. However, that this foot is the same as that of Pauwius is uncertain. Previous authors have suggested that the two are probably (Broderip 1837; Gray 1839), or possibly (Killermann 1915) identical. Gray (see Broderip 1837) suggested that Pauwius’s dodo foot was probably the same as that in the Royal Society which later came into the possession of the BM. Strickland (1848) stated that they may have been the same, but that there was doubt, whereas Blainville (1835) remarked that they were probably not identical. Indeed some authors (e.g., Strickland 1848) have stated that the measurements do not match up. Comparing the

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measurements of the BM foot with Pauwius’s foot there are indeed some discrepancies: length of middle toe is 7.62 cm, but not much over 5.15 cm in Pauwius’s specimen; and claws of digits II–IV are 1.69 cm (although much worn), but less than 2.57 cm in Pauwius’s specimen. In addition, the hallucial claw of the BM specimen was shorter than those of digits II–IV (although also much worn), whereas the claw of the hind toe of Pauwius’s foot was longer than those of the anterior digits. Hamel surmised that “as it had been announced that a living Dodo was embarked in 1598 by the Dutch, and as Clusius, in 1605, was unable to prove that an animal had been brought into the country alive, it is inferred that the bird embarked at the Mauritius in 1598 died on its way to Holland, and that it was from it the foot in Pauw’s possession was obtained” (1847a, 406). Newton (1875–1889) and Killermann (1915) also suggested that the foot might have been a relic of the bird supposedly brought back by Van Neck’s fleet. This conjecture, however, is unlikely (see above). Den Hengst (2003) stated that Roelandt Savery used Pauwius’s dodo foot as a model, a fact that is unprovable and unlikely. The BM specimen was thought by Lankester (1905) to be from a bird brought alive to Europe in 1610, and Noll (1889) even thought that Pauwius’s foot was probably from the 1626 Amsterdam specimen!

The Tradescant dodo is “probably the earliest documented museum specimen known in Britain” (Davies and Hull 1976, 88), and the head and foot are “the oldest surviving example of a bird skin” (Cheke 2003); the remains have been described as “the greatest treasure of the Museum at Oxford” (Knight 1854, 370). The head and foot were once part of a whole stuffed dodo, formerly part of the famous collection of the Tradescants. The collection of John Tradescant, Sr., was left to his son, John Tradescant, Jr., who continued to keep it in the family house at South Lambeth,40 near London. The collection consisted of rarities, both natural and artificial, collected by both father and son or donated by travelers who had been abroad. There was an entrance fee for the museum, probably 6d. (MacGregor 1983). A catalog of the collection began to be prepared in 1652 with the assistance of Elias Ashmole41 and Thomas Wharton (Davies and Hull 1976). MS Rawlinson D.864 is Ashmole’s list of Tradescant’s collection, possibly a draft prepared by Ashmole when he assisted Tradescant (Gunther 1925). The finishing of the work was delayed due to the death of Tradescant’s son (Hamel 1848), but it was eventually published in 1656 with the title “Musæum Tradescantianum.” In the 1656 printed catalog the dodo is listed bewteen Fulica and the “White Partridge”: “Dodar, from the Island Mauritius; it is not able to flie being so big” (4). Willughby later remarked, “We have seen this Bird dried, or its skin stuft in Tradescants Cabinet” (1676, 108; Ray 1678, 154). The collection was bequeathed by a deed of gift drawn up on December 16, 1659, by Tradescant to Elias Ashmole, with the provision that Tradescant and his wife, Hester, would keep the collection until they died

The Tradescant Specimen

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5.17.  The Tradescant head.

(Davies and Hull 1976). Later, in his will dated April 1661, Tradescant made Hester sole benefactor with an option to donate to Oxford or Cambridge University on her death. Tradescant died in 1662, and in 1664 Ashmole took Hester to court; the verdict was that she should hold the collection until her death, when it would pass to Ashmole. Ashmole built a house next to Tradescant’s and eventually moved most of the collection, presumably including the dodo, into it in 1674 (Isaak Walton saw some “strange creatures

5.18.  The skin removed from the left side of the head. Anatomical Evidences

211

collected by John Tradescant and others” at Ashmole’s in 1676 [Gunther 1925, 289]). Soon after the sad, unexplained drowning of Hester on April 4, 1678, Ashmole removed the rest. In 1677 Ashmole declared his intention to donate the collection to the University of Oxford. Between February 15 and March 14, 1683, Ashmole, assisted by Robert Plot, who had been appointed first keeper of the new museum, packed up the rarities, which were then transported by barge to Oxford and by cart to the newly built Ashmolean museum, arriving on March 20 (Gunther 1925). The Ashmolean opened on May 24, 1683. The museum collection was on the top floor of the building. According to Ashmole’s statutes, specimens were to be “distributed under certain heads; and a number to be fixed to every particular; & accordingly to be registred in the Catalogue of them” (quoted in Macgregor 2001, 128). In 1684 Edward Lhwyd compiled a catalog of the zoological collections “Catalogus Animalium quae in Museo Ashmoleano conservantur” and “Lib. Dni. Principalis Coll. Æni Nasi” (Strickland 1848), on behalf of the principal of Brasenose, who was assigned the zoological collection for the annual stock check. In 1684 this responsibility fell to John Meare, principal of Brasenose, 1681–1710. Unfortunately, the original of this catalog no longer survives (Arthur MacGregor, pers. comm., September 17, 2008).42 A subsequent manuscript catalog, AMS 11, was transcribed from the earlier Ashmolean catalogs, including that compiled by Lhwyd. It comprised the copy to be held by the vice-chancellor and was compiled 1695–1696. It was transcribed by a scrivener: none of the Visitors (trustees), including the vice-chancellor, compiled their own catalogs (Arthur MacGregor, pers. comm., April 18, 2008). The entry for the dodo reads, 29 Gallus gallinaceus peregrinus Clusij Jonst. T. 56. p. 122. Cygnus Cucullatus Nierembergij, Avis Dronte Bontio Dodo Willugbeij. p. 153. T. 27. (fol. 255r; quoted in MacGregor and Hook 2006, 94)

Hyde’s (1700) mention of the dodo, “of which also a stuffed skin is preserved in the Anatomy Theatre of Oxford” is here considered to possibly relate to the Anatomy School (see chapter 1). Also, Pointer’s listing of “Dodar-Birds, one of which watches whilst the other stoops down to drink” (1749, 157) must surely refer to the Anatomy School specimens and not that of the Ashmolean. A new book of the principal of Brasenose, “Liber D.ni Principalis Coll. Æni Nasi” (AMS 13) was compiled c. 1756. It comprised a leather-bound large quarto, 290 × 230 mm, and was compiled by William Huddersford from the text of the appropriate section of the vice-chancellor’s catalog for the use of the principal of Brasenose, who at this time was Francis Yarborough (principal of Brasenose, 1745–1770), in his capacity as a visitor of the museum (Arthur MacGregor, pers. comm., April 18, 2008). By this period, the Tradescant dodo had become decayed, probably due to the action of insects and perhaps also from handling by visitors to the museum (cf. Uffenbach, 1710). At least some zoological specimens might also have been used in anatomy lectures in the eighteenth century (MacGregor 2001), although perhaps not the dodo.

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5.19.  Left: sclerotic ring of the Tradescant head (top: as formerly on display; bottom: at present). Right: cast of an ungual seemingly no longer present in the foot.

Ashmole’s “Statutes, Orders and Rules for the Ashmolean Museum” include the following: Lest there should be any . . . deteriorating of my donation, I have thought good, according to the Acts of Convocation bearing date Jun: 4: Ao: 1683 and Sept: 19: Ano 1694 to appoint, constitute and ordaine as follows . . . 6. That whatsoever naturall Body that is very rare, whether Birds, Insects, Fishes or the like, apt to putrefie and decay with tyme shall be painted in a faire Velom Folio Booke, either with water colors, or at least design’d in black and white, by some good Master, with reference to the description of the Body itselfe . . . 8. That as any particular grows old and perishing, the Keeper may remove it into one of the Closets, or other repository; and some other to be substituted. (quoted in Gunther 1925, 313–314)

Unfortunately, no other could be “substituted” – the dodo was by this time extinct. Furthermore, Ovenell (1992) doubted that such a “Velom Folio Booke” had ever been made. Meeting on January 8, 1755, the vice-chancellor, George Huddesford, and Visitors43 found many zoological specimens, including most of the birds, to be in a bad state of decay and they were withdrawn (“subducta”) from display, as decreed by the statute (Ovenell 1992). An annotation in the zoological section of the 1695–1696 catalog of the Ashmolean collections (AMS 11) reads, “Illa quibus nullus in Margine assignatur Numerus e Museo subducta sunt Cimelia, annuentibus V. Can.rio aliisque Curatoribus, ad ea Lustranda convocatis die Jan.ii Oct vo Convocatis An. Dni. 1755” [Those to which no number is assigned in the margin are items withdrawn from the Museum, with the approval of the vice-chancellor and the other visitors, who met on January 8, 1755, to examine them] (fol. 252v; quoted in Ovenell 1992, 149). In a post-1755 catalog it is stated, “The numbers from 5 to 46, being decayed, were ordered to be removed at a meeting of the majority of the Visitors, Jan. 8., 1755” (quoted in Duncan 1828, 559).

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A persistent myth has developed that in 1755 the vice-chancellor and the Visitors, on their annual visitation, ordered that the dodo be removed and destroyed, with only the head and left foot being saved (Ovenell 1992). This was taken further by Owen (1845) and Strickland (1848), who added the concept of the remains being burned or thrown onto a fire.44 Even Robert T. Gunther (1925), the historian of science in Oxford and keeper of the Ashmolean, repeated this myth without establishing the true facts (Ovenell 1992).45 It was also repeated by Davies and Hull (1976), MacGregor (who described the head and foot as “charred” [1983]), and Nicholls (2006). Whitehead described the supposed events thus: “On a cold January afternoon in 1755 a bonfire was lit outside the Old Ashmolean Museum in Oxford and a quantity of decaying and apparently useless specimens were consigned to the flames. Amongst these were the remains, then a century old, of the last Dodo to be seen alive in Europe. At the last minute someone darted forward and salvaged the head and one leg” (1970, 50). However, there is no evidence for a fire (Ovenell 1992). Lyell (1832) even stated that the exact date of the destruction of the Tradescant dodo, the “last specimen of the dodo,” was January 8, 1755. A further error was that when the dodo specimen was destroyed on order of the vice-chancellor (and others) the head and foot were fortunately saved by the keeper of the Museum; at the time these positions were both held by the same person, George Huddesford. His son, William Huddesford, who succeeded him as keeper, organized and cataloged the collection, deciding which parts of the withdrawn specimens could be preserved (Ovenell 1992). Following the withdrawals, William Huddesford renumbered the surviving specimens against the entries in the 1696–1697 vice-chancellor’s list (AMS 11) and then transferred them to the new catalog, adding a description (usually copied verbatim from original text [MacGregor 2001]). An annotation in the zoological section of AMS 11 (see above) reads, “Avium tantum Rostra et Crura supersunt, quae sub Numeris Margine affixis invenias [Birds of which only beaks and legs survive, which are found under the number affixed in the margin]” (quoted in Ovenell 1992, 149). In this new catalog of c. 1756, under the heading “Avium exoticarum rostra” [Beaks of exotic birds], one finds this: 49 Gallus gallinaceus peregrinus Clusii, Jonstoni p. 122 Tab. LVI. Cygnus cucullatus Nieremb:; Avis Dronte Bontio. Dodo Will: p. 153. Tab. XXVII [49 Gallus gallinaceus peregrinus of Clusius, Jonston (1657, 122, tab. 56); Cygnus cucullatus of Nierembergius; Avis Dronte of Bontius; Dodo Willughby (1678, 153, tab. 27)]. (fol. 6v; quoted in MacGregor et al. 2000, 205)

And, under the heading “Avium exotic: cruza cum unguibus” [Legs of exotic birds, with claws]: 66 Crura dodonis. Will: p. 153. Tab. XXVII [66 Legs of the Dodo. Willughby (1678, 153, tab. 27)]. (fol. 10r; quoted in Macgregor et al. 2000, 206)

Of note here is the word “crura,” legs (plural). One wonders whether Huddesford saved both feet or whether this is merely a textual error. George Shaw described and figured the Tradescant head: The Head of the Dodo. Having some months ago ascertained in the British Museum the leg of a Dodo, and given in a preceding number an exact 214

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representation of it, I have now the pleasure of presenting my readers with a still more satisfactory relique of that singular bird, viz. the beak, with the fore-part of the head still adhering to it. This I was so fortunate as to discover very lately in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, in which, as is well known, is contained the collection of the famous John Tradescant, by whom it was bequeathed to Mr. Elias Ashmole, who presented it to the university. In the description of the Dodo at plate 123 of the present work, I have observed that we have the testimony of Willoughby for the existence of the exuviæ of the Dodo in the Tradescantian Museum. The beak therefore here figured is that belonging to the specimen seen by Willoughby and Ray. It is most faithfully represented as it now appears, having suffered some injuries from the lapse of more than a century and half. I should not omit to observe that a leg of the Dodo (tho’ in an extremely bad state of preservation), exists in the same collection; in size and every other particular agreeing with that belonging to the British Museum. The existence therefore of the Dodo, which has lately been considered as somewhat problematical, is now in the fullest and most satisfactory manner ascertained. (Shaw and Nodder 1792–1794; see plate 16)

5.20.  Left: the Tradescant foot. Right: skin from the foot.

Cuvier noted that the head was “in rather bad condition” (1817, 463).46 He had seen the Tradescant head while in England in 1830; apparently the head was “softened by Cuvier in London – and Sir J. Richardson saw it with his own eyes in that state at Cuvier’s Rooms”47 (Melville to Strickland, January 19, 1848, D-232). However, Melville himself also softened the skin, as Abraham Dee Bartlett mentioned, during the time Dr. Melville lived here [16A, Great College Street, Camden Town], having the head and foot from Oxford for his use, and he kindly allowed me to examine these parts whenever I pleased. I thus had the opportunity of examining the head more than once in a wet state, an advantage that may never occur again to any one (it was soaked in water by Dr. Melville for the purpose Anatomical Evidences

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5.21.  A sketch by John Edward Gray of the Tradescant dodo head, c. 1824 (dorsal view: across forehead “4 inches”; in front of eyes “2.1/4”; across distal beak “1. 1/4.” Lateral view: head: “nakedish with scattered hairs ending in two or three heads”; middle beak “cere naked hard skin”; distal beak “cover of this part is thin. horny. the bone solid. porous”).

of turning the skin over the skull to display the bony structure). (Bartlett to Strickland, September 25, 1848, D-146 [see Bartlett 1899, 4])

The head and foot were illustrated by John Edward Gray in c. 1824 (NHM General Library archives; see figs. 5.10, 5.21). These sketches were exhibited, at the request of the chairman, at a meeting of the Zoological Club of the Linnean Society on April 24, 1828. On one side of the sheet are shown the Tradescant and BM feet and on the other the Tradescant head. He considered the feet to undoubtedly belong to the same species, but to be from different individuals due to size differences (Anon. 1828). Gray confused the feet, labeling the Oxford specimen as a right foot and the BM one as a left one48 – an erroneous fact not corrected by Hume et al. (2006). He gave the length of the Tradescant foot as eight and one-half inches (215.9 mm). Gray considered the dodo to be a fabrication having the head of a vulture-like bird and the feet of a gallinaceous one (Broderip 1837; see chapter 4).

5.22.  The Tradescant head (Blainville 1835, pl. ii [“G. de Bièvre lith” “Lith. de Engelmann rue du Fy Montmartre No.6”]). 216

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Even in 1828 the Tradescant foot was already noted to be more decayed than the BM specimen (Duncan 1828). During the keepership of John Shute Duncan (1823–1829) and his brother Philip Bury Duncan (1829–1854), the Museum made casts of the dodo remains to distribute to institutions and individuals, including Richard Owen (Ovenell 1992).49 When he began his keepership, John Duncan “found that the skins of animals collected by the Tradescants had fallen into total decay, that cabinets for those objects which were liable to injury from time to time were wholly wanting” (Duncan 1836, vi). Lesson stated, “they possess a head [perhaps referring to the cast of the Tradescant head] and a foot of it at London, figured in Shaw, misc. [i.e., Shaw and Nodder (1792–1794)] pl. 143 and 166” (1828b, 211). Over a period of three years one “Mr. Underwood”50 visited Oxford and sent information on and sketches of the Tradescant head and foot to Blainville (Blainville 1835). Further details on the specimen came from John Duncan via Underwood in 1826. Blainville (1835) figured the Tradescant dodo head and foot in his Mémoire (see figs. 5.22, 5.23, and 5.24). The Tradescant head was also illustrated by William Clift prior to its dissection, and probably prior to casting (fig. 5.25); it shows many more feathers than are currently present. In 1832 part of the zoological collections were moved to the middle floor of the Ashmolean by Philip Duncan, and he also cataloged the collection,

5.23.  The Tradescant foot: a) cranial; b–c) digit I, phalanx 1; d–e) digit IV in medial and lateral views, respectively (Blainville 1835, pl. iii, figs. iii, vii, vi, v, iv – respectively [“G. de Bièvre lith”; “Lith. de Langlumé”]). Foot depicted reversed.

5.24.  A plaster cast of the Tradescant head (Blainville 1835, pl. iv: “Lith. de Thierry freres s[?] de Engelmann”). The original cast was courtesy of Buckland and Duncan. Anatomical Evidences

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5.25.  A sketch of the Tradescant head by William Clift. The caption reads, “Ashmolean Dodo, Oxford.” Signed “WC.”

the result being published in 1836. Sometime between 1824–1828 and 1835 the integument of the foot had become further decayed and the ungual phalanges of digits I–III apparently lost. In the OUM collections, however, there is a cast of an ungual phalanx (see below) which does not match that of digit IV and may well be from one of the other digits (pers. obs.). Lehmann (1845) mentioned the “very damaged foot” at Oxford. By 1844 the tendons were visible (Carus 1845) and it appears that the foot had also been varnished at some stage (Melville 1848). Carus (1845) stated, “I drew Kidd’s attention to a particular form of the ossified [verknöcherten] tendons of the flexor-muscles [Beugemuskeln].*) [*) The bony [knöchernen] tendons disintegrate in several pieces, which are connected by joints [internodia? (Melville [1848]).] A mechanism, which otherwise on such tendon-bones is not known to me]” (1845, 375). These “tendon-bones” were probably sesamoids. Strickland described the head thus: “The eyes still remain dried in the sockets, but the corneous extremity of the beak has perished. . . . The deep transverse grooves are also visible, though less developed than in the paintings” (1848, 32). The Tradescant head and foot were also figured by Strickland and Melville (1848; see fig. 5.26). Sometime prior to July 14, 1846, the integument of the foot was removed by John Kidd (Owen 1846), who made “an interesting preparation of the osseous and tendinous structures” (Strickland 1848, 33). According to Hamel (1848), Kidd dissected the foot in 1844, on the recommendation of C. G. Carus. Melville mentioned that he had “resolved several points by softening the tissues & find that the remaining ends of the tendons were more generally cartilaginous than bones” (Melville to Strickland, January 19, 1848, D-232). Thus, some soft tissue remained. This is confirmed by Hamel (1846), who mentioned the “bones of the left foot with the ossified tendons of the flexors” (1846, col. 318) and that he had images of its bones and tendons (“Knochen und Sehnen” [1847b, 170]). Hamel stated that the foot had been dissected so that “now the bones, ligaments and tendons are clear and can be investigated” (Hamel 1846, 316). Shortly after the dissection, Hamel submitted various daguerreotype plates of the preparation (Hamel 1848). He had drawings and five different photographic views made of it, which he had engraved (Hamel 1846). He gave two of these to Johann

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5.26.  A lithograph of the Tradescant head, originally made for Gray (1849). From Strickland and Melville (1848, pl. v, fig. 1). “Jos: Dinkel del et lith.”; “Printed by Hullmandel & Walton.”

Friedrich Brandt (Brandt 1848a). Hamel also had photographic views of the head made (Hamel 1848). Melville (1848) described the tendons and ligaments and mentioned that the “fibro-cartilages” (ligamentia plantaria?) of the Tradescant foot remained but were shrunken, hardened and covered in varnish. The foot bones were presumably subsequently separated, as they were illustrated in Strickland and Melville’s (1848) work (along with a few vestiges of the ligaments) and casts of the individual bones were made at some stage. The bones are now wired together in articulation (pers. obs.). It is not known what happened to the tendons of the foot, but they may have been removed for drawing purposes for the above work or lost when the foot was cast. “From anxiety to obtain the fullest information, application was made to Mr. Duncan . . . for permission, which was liberally granted, to remove the integuments from the left side of the head of the Dodo, where they were most decayed” (Melville 1848, 70). Thus, in 1847 Philip Bury Duncan gave permission to Henry Acland to remove the skin, and “during this procedure, the leading points of resemblance between the cranium and that of the Pigeons were pointed out by Mr. Strickland” (Melville 1848, 70). The skin was divided along the midline, moistened and turned back on the left side, where it was most decayed (Renshaw 1931). This careful dissection was conducted “annuentibus Vice-cancellario aliisque Curatoribus” [with the assent of the vice-chancellor and another curator] (Strickland 1848, 33). That this was done by the time of the BAAS Meeting in June 1847 is evidenced by Owen, who mentioned the “the exposition of the bones of the dried head at Oxford which the accomplished Curator of the Ashmolean Museum permitted to be made for the communications, by Messrs. Strickland and Melville, at the Meeting of the British Association at Oxford” (1848b, 345), and which allowed Owen to examine its osteology. Previously, Owen had stated that he had examined the head and foot “during a recent visit to Oxford” (1846, 331) and he also described the head and foot from plaster casts (Brandt 1867). The MS diaries of Thomas John Quekett, assistant curator of the Hunterian Museum, also mention that, in 1847, part of the Ashmolean dodo specimen was dissected (“V. G. P.” 1928). Furthermore,

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5.27.  The Tradescant foot partially dissected (Owen 1846, pl. xli, fig. 1: “J. Erxleben. Zinc.” “Day & Haghe lith”; pl. xlii, fig. 1). Foot depicted reversed.

Owen provided illustrations of the foot prior to removal of all the soft tissue (1846, pls. xli, xlii; fig. 5.27). The Tradescant head was then exhibited, along with other remains, at the 1847 Meeting of the BAAS. Melville (1848) described the anatomy of the head and foot in detail for his and Strickland’s monograph. The remains were illustrated in 1847 by Joseph Dinkel for George Robert Gray’s work (1849), although these lithographs were actually first published in Strickland and Melville’s (1848) work (fig. 5.26). In 1847, when the BAAS met in Oxford, Acland suggested that a new museum for the natural sciences should be built (Davies and Hull 1976), and in 1860 the zoological collections, including the dodo remains, were transferred to the newly built University Museum (Ovenell 1992). Tim G. Brom and Tineke G. Prins examined feathers from the Tradescant head, consisting of six very abraded feathers (6.6–13.5 mm in length). The feather remains were examined by light and electron microscopy (see chapter 6). Most of the barbules had been broken off at the connection between basal cells and pennulum. They found additional downy barbs

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5.28.  The Tradescant head, dorsal view (Owen 1879, pl. xvi, fig. 5: “J. Erxleben from nat. on Zinc”; “Day & Haghe Lith.rs to the Queen”).

and barbules firmly attached inside the skull that possessed characters (e.g., knobbed villi) diagnostic of songbirds, concluding that these had “drifted in during the original taxidermy” (Brom and Prins 1989, 237). A sample, consisting of a few small, tough fragments (combined weight of about 0.5 g) from the Tradescant head was sent by Tom Kemp at the OUM to San Diego in May 1990 for extraction of genetic material. After initial unsuccessful attempts the amplified product was manually sequenced.51 However, the sequences obtained did not have bases in common with other avian sequences and were probably a contamination of rhinoceros genetic material. A repeated attempt yielded the same results (Leona Chemnick, pers. comm., February 17, 2002). Shapiro and Cooper (2000) attempted to extract DNA from tissue from the cranial cavity of the Tradescant head (see chapter 6). A sample, consisting of 1 cm2 of cortical bone, was also taken from a tarsal of the Tradescant foot: the evidence of this being “a short, neat groove along the bone” (Parker 2007, 67). Only the latter yielded suitable genetic material (Beth Shapiro, pers. comm., February 21, 2008), and this was used to conduct a molecular phylogenetic analysis of columbids, including Raphus and Pezophaps (Shapiro et al. 2002; see chapter 6). The remains were formerly on display (e.g., Gunther 1925; Whitehead 1970; pers. obs.),52 but were recently removed from exhibition. Today, the Tradescant remains are kept in two cardboard boxes stored in a drawer in a storeroom on the first floor of the OUM (the Wilberforce Room) and their present curator is Malgosia Nowak-Kemp. The extremity of the rhamphotheca appears to have been lost at an early stage (probably before 1793). It should be noted that the Tradescant foot, as seen in Gray’s, Blainville’s, and Owen’s illustrations was not arranged as would be expected for a standing specimen (i.e., with the toes approximately at right angles to the tarsus). Perhaps its position had been changed by softening the tissues, but it might suggest that the original Tradescant specimen was not a standing mount. Further evidence for this includes the absence of any indication of glass eyes and perhaps also the fact that the basicranium is intact. It is additionally supported by the paucity of contemporary mentions of a stuffed dodo in the Tradescant-Ashmole collection. The Tradescant head may retain the columella in the right ear, although it cannot be seen from external examination; that of the left ear is missing (pers. obs.).

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5.29.  Measurements of the Tradescant head (in mm; L = left side, R = right side). Taken from a cast (UMZC 415.A).

The Tradescant bird was considered by Strickland and Melville (1848), Renshaw (1938), and Kallio (2005) to belong to a female specimen, based on features such as its small size and from the transverse grooves on the rhamphotheca. The only other specimen Strickland and Melville could have compared it to would have been the BM foot, which is larger than that of the Oxford specimen (they may have also compared the Tradescant specimen with Savery-BM, which is allegedly life-size). However, Kitchener (1990) stated that, based on the foot and having taken measurements of hundreds of dodo bones, the Tradescant specimen was larger than average. In support of this, according to Livezey’s (1993) data, the Tradescant bird was male (from tarsometatarsus length). (See above.) Measurements (taken from cast, UMZC 415.A) Length: 220.8 mm Maximum width: 99.4 mm (See fig. 5.29 for other measurements.) 222

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5.30. The OUM display in the early twentieth century (Gunther 1925).

Skull length: 8 inches 21/2 lines (208.49 mm: Melville 1848); 86 ∕10 inches (218.44 mm [Hamel 1846]; occiput to distal extremity, excluding rhamphotheca) Skull width: 39 ∕10 inches (99.06 mm [Hamel 1846], including skin) John Duncan (see Blainville 1835) gave the following measurements of Tradescant foot: “Overall length from one end to the other, at the largest digit [III]” 4 inches (101.6 mm) [sic]; length from proximal end of the tarsus to its junction with digit III 4 inches 3 lines (107.95 mm); width of the proximal (“tarsal”) end 1 inch 6 lines (38.1 mm); length of phalanx I of the hallux 6 lines (12.7 mm); length of digit II 31/4 inches (82.55 mm); length of digit III 31/4 inches (82.55 mm); length of digit IV 3 inches (76.20 mm); width of the tarsus at the base of the hallux 23/4 inches (69.85 mm). Blainville stated that the Tradescant foot “is five inches length from the end of the narrow part of the tarsus until the extremity of the middle digit, which, it is true, lacks the ungual phalanx” (1835, 19). Tarsometarsus length: 5 inches 11/2 lines (from apex of intercondyloid tubercle to groove of trochlea III; 130.18 mm; Melville 1848). Origins of the Specimen It has been suggested that the Tradescant specimen may have been the bird seen by L’Estrange (Hamel 1848; Rothschild 1907; Fuller 2002; see chapter 1), despite there being little evidence for this other than geographical closeness (Fuller 2002). It has also been suggested that the specimen originated with Thomas Herbert, although Strickland commented, “had the garrulous Sir Thomas actually killed, skinned, and brought home a Dodo, he would not have failed to record such an exploit in his Travels” (1848, 23). Thomas Herbert donated specimens to both the Ashmolean and Anatomy School collection, yet there is no mention of him collecting such specimens in Anatomical Evidences

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5.31. The OUM display in the early twentieth century (Vernon and Vernon 1909, pl. ix).

his Travels (see also chapter 1). Herbert wrote: “having been sundry times at M. Tredescons (to whom I gave several things I collected in my travels)” (Herbert to Ashmole, dated September 1, 1680, quoted in Hamel 1847b, 173). One “Thomas Herbert” is also listed among benefactors of Tradescant’s Museum (see chapter 1). “Captain Swanley,” who may be the same Richard Swanley, captain of the Sun (the vessel that Peter Mundy sailed on; see chapter 1), is also listed. Another suggestion is that the specimen was Altham’s bird (e.g., Brom and Prins 1989; see chapter 1). Owen (1879) even

5.32.  The Tradescant head. Top: cast (Broderip 1837, 52). Bottom: (Wood c. 1854, 285). 224

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stated that Tradescant had obtained a stuffed dodo from the Netherlands during the reign of Elizabeth I, which is most unlikely, and Hachisuka (1953) suggested that the Tradescant specimen had been imported into London in 1650. Wood (1927) thought that the Tradescant specimen was a black bird that had arrived in Europe around 1637. Den Hengst (2003) stated that Tradescant bought the stuffed dodo in 1638, again currently unprovable. A printed label accompanying the remains in the OUM boldly stated that they were “The Head and Foot of the last living Dodo seen in Europe” (Gunther 1925, 358; see fig. 5.30). However, the “suggestion that the Tradescant Dodo was the last living dodo to be seen in England must surely be considered as anecdotal speculation” (Ovenell 1992, 145). There is also no evidence that a dodo was exhibited at St. James’s Park (London) or at Versailles (contra George [2001]; neither Willughby [1676] nor Ray [1678] mention such, despite mentioning other exotic birds living in menageries). It is not known when the dodo came into the Tradescant collection. It is not mentioned by Mundy, who viewed the collection sometime between 1634 and 1636, and who later mentioned the dodo specimens in the Anatomy School. Neither was it mentioned by Georg Christoph Stirn, who visited the Museum in July 1638 and listed the things he saw (Gunther 1925). This might suggest that the specimen was not in the collection at this time.

Anatomical Evidences

5.33.  A cast of the Tradescant head (UMZC 415.A).

225

5.34.  Plaster cast of the Tradescant head in the BMNH (Zur Strassen 1911). “Herb. G. Herring – London phot.”

Melville remarked that the distal end upper jaw presents “indications, in the opened-out osseous texture, of the domesticated condition in which the bird lived” (1848, 92). A further suggestion that the bird might have been “domesticated” (or rather, had lived in captivity) is that the specimen was evidently well preserved, lasting at least a century before it was dismantled, and suggesting that it was prepared shortly after death and not that it died in Mauritius or en route to Europe and was preserved ineffectively. Rothschild (1907) stated that the Tradescant dodo was probably the model for Savery-BM. Differences in the morphology of the head, however, make this unlikely (see fig. 3.9). Casts The head was cast before 1832, as a cast, presented by P. Duncan, is mentioned in the “Synopsis of the Contents of the British Museum” (Anon. 1832). Further confirmation of this is the fact that a model of the head of the Tradescant dodo, presented to the College Museum by Duncan (of Oxford), was exhibited at the meeting of the Wernerian Natural History Society on February 7, 1835 (Jameson 1835). George Augustus Rowell (1804–1892), under-keeper at the Ashmolean, made several plaster casts of the Tradescant dodo head (Ovenell 1986). Blainville, after having requested a cast of the Tradescant head from Buckland, received one from Duncan (Blainville 1835). A cast of the Tradescant head was also figured by Broderip (1837; see fig. 5.32). Hamel brought plaster casts of the Tradescant head and BM foot from England, in addition to photographs of the Tradescant head and foot and Brandt (1848a) studied these. Brandt had two photographic representations of the Tradescant foot skeleton from Hamel (1848a). Today, casts of the Tradescant remains can be seen in many collections.

In 1786,53 not long after the solitaire is thought to have become extinct, Captain Labistour54 visited Rodrigues to search for fossil remains (NorthCoombes 1979), probably accompanied by a certain Mr. De Forvalle. He visited the caves on Plaine Corail (fig. Intro.3), in one of which he found five

Resurrection: History of Bone Discoveries (1786–Present)

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5.35.  Pezophaps specimens from the Paris collection (Strickland and Melville 1848, pl. xiii [“Werner, del. Dinkel, lith.” “Reeve, imp.”]). Cranium (MAD 6001) and sternum (MAD 6400).

bones of Pezophaps bearing calcareous encrustation (Desjardins 1831). He brought them to Mauritius and later gave them to Roquefeuil(le), his sonin-law. In 1830 Roquefeuille passed them on to Julien François Desjardins (Desjardins 1831), who was gathering information for a book on the natural history of the Mascarene Islands, and who, in the same year, sent these five (a cranium, the cranial part of a sternum, a left humerus, a left femur and a right tarsometatarsus; figs. 5.35–5.37) to Cuvier in Paris to be identified.55 Desjardins had excavated in the Flacq region of Mauritius and sent tortoise bones to Cuvier at the MNHN in 1830, but in his written correspondence with him there is no mention of dodo bones being found from the Flacq area at that time (Desjardins 1830). Cuvier (1830) mistakenly stated that the bird bones sent to Desjardins were from the dodo and had been found under a lava flow on Mauritius. This may have been partially due to the fact that Cuvier considered Leguat’s account (see chapter 2) to be unreliable, and therefore the existence of the solitaire doubtful (see chapter 4). Cuvier then presented the bones at the Académie des Sciences (Cuvier 1830, 1831; Audouin et al. 1830). In the same year, 1830, Cuvier went to England, where he was able to compare the bones with the BM foot and the Tradescant remains, and in 1831 he affirmed his statement that the bones were also from the dodo Anatomical Evidences

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5.36.  Pezophaps specimens from the Paris (figs.1–3, 8–10 [MAD 6421]) and Andersonian Museum (figs.4–7) collections (Strickland and Melville 1848, pl. xiv [“Werner & Dinkel del. Dinkel, lith.” “Reeve, Benham & Reeve, imp.”]).

(Cuvier 1831). In Paris, Cuvier showed these supposed dodo remains to Charles Lyell (Lyell 1832). However, Desjardins put the matter straight when he informed the Société d’Histoire Naturelle de l’Ile Maurice of the true origin of the bones (Desjardins 1831). Henri Marie Ducrotay de Blainville further negated the attribution of the bones to the dodo as he considered that the keel of the sternum indicated a capacity of flight and noted that the tarsometatarsus was more elongate (Cuvier 1830; Blainville 1835). Furthermore, Blainville (1835) was assured by Jean René Constant Quoy, who had seen the bones on his passage to Mauritius, that they had indeed been found in a cave on Rodrigues, and not under a layer of lava.56 Therefore, they belonged to the solitaire (Audouin et al. 1830). The bones were subsequently placed in the MNHN. Replicas of the five Paris specimens were given to Alfred and Edward Newton by Alphonse Milne-Edwards (Newton and Newton 1869). From the similarity in the thickness of calcareous encrustation, Strickland believed that the bones had been found in the same part of the cavern. He also inferred that due to their “agreement in proportions and the absence of duplicate bones” that they were probably all from the same individual (1859, 188). In 1831 Francis H. Dawkins, military secretary to the governor of Mauritius, was persuaded by Charles Telfair,57 to gather information on the

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5.37.  Pezophaps specimens from the Andersonian Museum (figs.1–2, 4) and Paris (MAD 6404) (fig. 3) collections (Strickland and Melville 1848, pl. xv [“Werner & West del” “Reeve, Benham & Reeve, imp.”]).

solitaire, and in August 1832 Dawkins sailed to Rodrigues on the Talbot and “visited the caverns in which bones have been dug up, and dug in several places, but found only small pieces of bone. A beautiful rich soil forms the ground-work of them, which is from six to eight feet [1.82–2.43 m] deep” (Telfair 1833, 31; Newton and Newton 1869). Dawkins questioned the inhabitants of Rodrigues as to the former existence of a large flightless bird, but with no success. He did, however, succeed in obtaining numerous tortoise bones, which he sent to the ZSL (Günther 1879). Sometime later in 1832 Honoré Eudes58 dug up, at the instigation of Dawkins, twelve further bones of the solitaire (Telfair 1833; North-Coombes 1971), probably from the same cavern as those of the 1786 find, buried in deposits near the cave entrance (Strickland 1853). The discovery was described as follows: M. Eudes succeeded in digging up in the large cavern various bones, including some of a large kind of bird, which no longer exists in the island [Rodrigues]; these he forwarded to Mr.Telfair, by whom they were presented to the [Zoological] Society. The only part of the cavern in which they were found was at the entrance, where the darkness begins; the little attention usually paid to this part by visitors, may be the reason why they have not been previously found. Those near the surface were the least injured, and they occur to the depth of

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5.38.  UMZC Pezophaps bones. Left to right: 632, right femur; 633, left tarsometatarsus; 415.O, left tarsometatarsus; 415.N, right tarsometatarsus; 415.N, cast of left tarsometatarsus.

three feet [0.91 m], but nowhere in considerable quantity; whence M. Eudes conjectures that the bird was at all times rare, or, at least, uncommon. (Telfair 1833, 31)

Telfair presented six of these to the Andersonian Museum in Glasgow (left and right femora, a fragment of another femur, a left tibiotarsus, and left and right tarsometatarsi)59 and five to the ZSL (figs. 5.36, 5.37).60 This series of bones belongs to at least four different individuals, both male and female. Casts of the Andersonian specimens (presumably those mentioned by Melville [Melville to Strickland, December 18, 1847, D-230]) were presented to Alfred Newton by William Jardine (UMZC 415.M a–f; Newton and Newton 1869). An additional (left) tarsometatarsus (UMZC 415.O; fig. 5.38) was apparently found at the same time and location as the five Paris specimens, and was probably from the same skeleton (Strickland 1849); it was presented to Hugh Strickland by Wenceslas Bojer, along with a right tarsometatarsus (UMZC 415. N) found by Dawkins in 1832 in the same cave as the other finds (Strickland 1849, 1859; Newton and Newton 1869; see fig. 5.38). These two tarsometatarsi were sent to England by the officers of the RSASM and were briefly described by Strickland (1849). George Corsane Cuninghame, an official of Port Louis, was employed by Walter Calverley Trevelyan to inquire into the location of the site of Eudes’s finds; he reported, I learn that the bones removed [in 1832] were found by digging in a place apparently hollowed out by the action of running water under a mass of rock on the side of a narrow chasm or ravine; that the floor of the cavity is of dark coloured earth, sloping sharply down to its mouth, near which, but now considerably below the level of the cavity, a small stream runs at present. (quoted in Strickland and Melville 1848, 52)

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Telfair sent a letter, dated Port Louis November 8, 1832, to the secretary of the ZSL (enclosing letters to him from Dawkins and Eudes),61 which was read to the Society on the occasion of displaying the bones, at the evening meeting of March 12, 1833 (Telfair 1833). The bones were later put away in a cellar and subsequently lost (see below). George Clark, a government schoolmaster at Mahébourg, Mauritius, made an interesting remark: “the most perfect remains of it [the dodo, i.e., the solitaire] now extant were found in a cavern at Rodrigues, and were sent from this Island to Geoffrey St. Hilaire about forty years ago” (1859, lxxvi). Whether this statement constitutes a mistake is uncertain. At the meeting of the Académie des Sciences, Paris, on July 12, 1830, Cuvier and Blainville discussed the dodo. Blainville remarked that he had been working on the dodo for several years and showed three plates (Anon. 1830; see also chapter 6). On August 30, 1830, Blainville read his “Mémoire sur le Dodo” before the Académie; this was eventually published in 1835. This work covered the historical evidence of the dodo and also the known specimens and was one of the main things he had decided to research on his previous journey to England. He compared the known remains with those of other birds, including members of Cathartidae, Galliformes, and Spheniscidae (see chapter 6). Hamel (1848) speculated that bones of the solitaire might be found in the remains of Leguat’s settlement: the skull and foot at the kitchen and the sternum and other bones by the tree where they ate their meals. Strickland (1844) suggested that naturalists in the Mascarene Islands might make a search for the remains of extinct birds in caves and alluvial areas. George Cuninghame, who was on leave in England, was asked to investigate “the remains of antediluvian animals” which had been sent to Europe from Mauritius, and in 1845 he provided Captain William Kelly of HMS Conway and the aide-de-camp to the governor, James Halkett, “who were about to proceed to Rodriguez,” with information regarding the location of previous finds of bones (North-Coombes 1971).62 Kelly made an unsuccessful search for the exact location where Eudes’s bones had been found (Oliver 1891). He had investigated two caves, one of which was at the base of a cliff, and noted that “the floor of both caves, where not covered with stalagmite is a fine red mould which I strongly recommend to the attention of those who may hereafter have the happiness of digging for bones in Rodriguez” (Strickland and Melville 1848, 52). There was also interest generated in the dodo by the RSASM when Strickland was enquiring about the possibility of finding bones (1847–1851).63 In a letter from G. C. Cuninghame to W. C. Trevelyan, it was mentioned that the Natural History Society of Mauritius had proposed excavations on Mauritius to search for dodo bones (Strickland and Melville 1848). Richard Owen, superintendent of Natural History at the BM, had asked Humphry Sandwith,64 then colonial secretary on Mauritius, to try to obtain some remains of the dodo, but this was also without success. In a letter dated January 27, 1859, Sandwith writes, “I quite despair of obtaining the bones of the Epyornis or Dodo, though I have made every effort” (quoted in Owen 1866, 38). Likewise, in 1862 Alfred Newton asked his brother, Edward, whether dodo bones might be found (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, March 29, 1862, 24/1, 31).

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5.39.  ZSL specimens (Strickland 1853, pl. 55): proximal part of right humerus (BMNH A1357), distal part of right femur (BMNH A1358), right tibiotarsus (BMNH A1356). Right tarsometatarsus, sent to Strickland by Bojer (UMZC 415. N).

At the Monday evening lecture, June 28, 1847, of the 17th meeting of the BAAS, held at the Radcliffe Library in Oxford, Strickland gave a talk, “On the History of the Dodo and other Allied Species of Birds,” and exhibited various remains sent by scholars and institutions: Milne-Edwards brought the Paris specimens of the solitaire, the Andersonian Museum sent their bones, the BM sent the dodo foot in their possession, and Oxford loaned their dodo head and foot. A cast of the Copenhagen dodo skull had been prepared and was also to be sent to be shown at the meeting, but “was detained by the vexatious formalities of the London Custom-house” (Anon. 1848, 80). The year 1848 saw the publication of the great monograph on the dodo and solitaire by Hugh Strickland and Alexander Melville. This comprehensive work was dedicated to Philip Bury Duncan, keeper of the Ashmolean Museum. Melville, who had studied at the Edinburgh school of comparative anatomy, was assisting Henry Acland at the time when Strickland approached him as to contributing to the book. Melville began work on the anatomical section in June 1847, having received some specimens; he received the BM foot in September of that year (Baker and Bayliss 2002; Melville to Strickland, June 8, 1847, D-217; Melville to Strickland, September 232

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24, 1847, D-220). Melville had been studying the Tradescant foot since December 21, 1847, and the head since February 16, 1848, and still had them in June of that year (Strickland to Melville, June 21, 1848, D-249). Melville also asked Strickland if he would request that Blainville could have some of the encrustation removed from the cranium and sternum of the Paris bones (Melville to Strickland, November 22, 1847, D-233). In the work, Strickland coined the name Pezophaps for the solitaire, and both he and Melville made several speculations about the bird, based on the limited material available, which were later proven to be correct. In the mid-1840s Strickland made an unsuccessful search for the missing ZSL solitaire bones (Strickland 1848; see fig. 5.39). They were eventually rediscovered in July 1851 by Abraham Dee Bartlett in the house of the Society. Bartlett described them and exhibited them at the ZSL on December 9, 1851 (Bartlett 1851). Bartlett attributed the bones to three species: the dodo (Didus ineptus), the solitaire (Didus solitarius) and a new species (Didus nazarenus). In 1859 Strickland published a paper describing the solitaire bones in the ZSL, giving a list of all bones of Pezophaps known up to that date. He divided the bones into two groups: a group of larger specimens he assigned to Pezophaps solitaria and the smaller bones he placed in the taxon P. minor (see chapter 6). In 1860 or 1861 a tibiotarsus, shaft of a tarsometatarsus, and some fragments of the shaft of a femur were sent to Richard Owen from the museum at Port Louis by Louis Bouton, who had identified them as belonging to the solitaire. These specimens had been referred to in a letter to Owen from James Morris (dated December 18, 1860):

5.40.  Right femur (UMZC 632), fragmentary left humerus, and left tarsometatarsus (UMZC 633) of “Didus nazarenus” (Newton 1865a, pl. viii [“J. Erxleben ad nat del et lith.”; “M & N Hanharl, Impt.”]).

By the last “Overland” from Mauritius, I received from the Curator of the Museum of Port Louis the two fragments of bones, which he suspects to be those of the Dodo, and he is anxious to have your opinion in the matter. Under the circumstances, I have taken the liberty of sending them to you just as they came to me on Saturday last. The Curator writes me: “Je les ai trouvés dans la Collection du Muséum déposés à côté d’ossements fossiles de Tortues recueillies dans un dépôt Calcaire aux Quatre Cocos à Flacq, à une petite distance de la mer. No. 1. me paraît se rapprocher à l figure 1, planche XV. de Strickland, et dans ce cas serait un fragment du Tibia droit du Solitaire; No. 2. se rapproche de la figure 2a de la planche XV. de Strickland. Ce serait dans ce cas le métatarse droit auquel il manquerait une portion de l’articulation inférieure et la totalité de l’articulation supérieure. . . . s’ils sont ce que je les crois être, je vois prie de me les renvoyer ensuite quand ils seront examinés.”[65] As my friend mentions the district of Flacq, I know that several fossil remains have been found there; and some years ago when I was in the island, I, and other friends made an examination of the locality in order to find some remains of the Dodo at the request of Mr Strickland, who was then preparing his excellent work on the Dodo &c. If therefore, you will do me the favour to give me your opinion on the fragments I now take the liberty of sending you, such an opinion from so high an authority will set the matter at rest. (quoted in Owen 1871, 519)66

The tibiotarsus fragment (no. 1, female) consisted of the distal end and part of the shaft. No. 2 (also female) comprised a right tarsometatarsus. Owen ignored Edward Newton’s appeal to examine the specimens (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton 1869–1872, see Hume et al. 2009), claiming that he was unaware of the request: “the first and sole evidence of Messrs. Newton’s interest in these fragments reached me with their memoir. Any previous inquiry would have, at once and most readily, received the reply Anatomical Evidences

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given in the present note. No portion of femur, and no entire tibia, were sent to me” (Owen 1871, 519). There was correspondence between Owen and Alfred Newton on the matter (Newton to Owen, January 5, 1872; Owen to Newton, January 7, 1872; Hume et al. 2009) and Newton and Gadow later stated, “Owen [(1871)] was wholly wrong in his belief that he had returned these specimens before” (1896, 889). The three bones remained in Owen’s possession until 1877, when he gave them to Edward Newton to be returned to the Port Louis museum, which they were. Edward Newton set off from Port Louis on the ship Rapid on October 26, 1864, bound for Rodrigues, which was reached on November 1. He described how they went searching in caves on the island: After dinner it was arranged that we should start in boats at midnight, the tide then serving, for the caves on the south-west side of the island. We eventually got off about one o’clock in the morning of the 2nd November. The police magistrate took Captain [Archibald] Anson, myself, and three others in his whale-boat. The Captain of the “Rapid” took in his Captain Barkly,[67] and two more of the party. . . . About eleven o’clock we started for another cave, about two miles [3.2 km] off [from the first cave, which was about quarter of a mile (0.4 km) inland from their landing site]. . . . Arrived at the cave, it was found to be too late to enter, for fear of losing the tide. All my companions turned back at once, excepting one who went some hundred yards or so inside with me. I picked up a shell or two of a land-tortoise, and two bones; one of which [UMZC 633] on examination I find nearly fits the representation of the left tarso-metatarsus in Mr. Strickland’s work (plate 15. fig. 2), with the exception that it is as perfect as the right one depicted on the same plate (fig. 3). The other bone is a fragment [of a left humerus], of which both extremities are wanting. Both are almost free from any earthy deposit upon them, and indeed where I found them there appeared to be no drip at all. In one of the cavities of the tarso-metatarsus there is just a small quantity of white matter – lime, I suppose, in one of its forms, but it comes off easily enough. They are of an ivory-yellow – almost, I should say, their natural colour.[68] Since my return to Mauritius, I have found that Captain Barkly, when in Rodriguez, picked up a third bone [UMZC 632], which at first he thought was only a turtle’s; but it turns out to be an undoubted right femur of a bird, and similar to the specimen from the Paris Museum figured in “The Dodo” book (plate 14, fig. 8).[69] (E. Newton 1865, 150–153)

Unfortunately, Newton had no digging tools and, moreover, had to depart back to Mauritius the following day, so no further searches could be conducted at that time. The three bones were sent to England and exhibited by Alfred Newton on February 14 at the ZSL; they were subsequently described under the nomen Didus nazarenus (Newton 1865a; see fig. 5.40). Edward Newton sponsored excavations of the Rodrigues caves in the 1860s and 1870s (Cheke 2004b). He persuaded George Jenner, resident magistrate of the island, to search for further remains in the caves visited the previous year. The result was that, in 1865, 85 more bones, belonging to at least 16 individuals, were discovered in the caves of Plaine Corail (Newton 1865b); these remains were sent by Jenner and reached Edward Newton in Mauritius on August 1, 1865. While attending the meeting of the BAAS at Birmingham in early September 1865, Alfred Newton received a letter from his brother, Edward, dated “Mauritius, 3rd August, 1865,” informing him of the discovery: Two days ago I received from Mr. George Jenner, the Magistrate of Rodriguez – to whom be all honour – a box containing Turtles’ and Birds’ bones. With pleasure I 234

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5.41.  Ayres’s dodo specimens (BMNH A3224).

divided them, and found that of the latter there are remains of no less than sixteen or seventeen individuals! They are all apparently of one species, but of two sizes, the difference in this respect being probably owing to sex. The most plentiful bones are tibiæ, of which there are two or three quite perfect, the antero-proximal ends being well preserved. There are also several good femora and metatarsi, three portions of pelves (showing most conclusively that they did not belong to a Struthious bird), one anterior end of a coracoid (showing the same fact), several humeri of both sizes, an ulna and two radii, and a phalanx of the middle toe. Of these, I believe that the upper end of the tibia, the portions of the pelvis [including synsacrum] and of the coracoid, the ulna, radius, and phalanx are bones which have not before been found, and are therefore doubly valuable. I retain here a couple of perfect legs of the two sizes for our Museum; but the rest I am sending home by this mail. It will be seen that there is one tibia which is much longer than any of the others; it is not a perfect one; but there is such a strong resemblance between them all that I feel sure they are but of one species. . . . I am writing to Mr. Jenner to beg him to look out for some of the smaller bones, which I feel must exist; and, with any luck, I think we ought to get a perfect skeleton some day. (Newton 1865b, 715–716)

Alfred Newton recalled, “it appeared to me that the information contained in this extract was too interesting to be kept to myself, and accordingly I communicated it to Section D [of the BAAS: Zoology and Botany], on Monday, 11th September” 1865 (Newton 1865b, 716). These bones were sent to England by Edward Newton and arrived in autumn 1865; they were exhibited at a meeting of the ZSL on November 23, and a selection were shown at the BAAS Meeting in Nottingham in August 1866 (Newton 1866a). Among these remains were many bones previously unknown, and specimens of intermediate size between the two morphs of Pezophaps, which showed that the hypothesis of there being two species of solitaire was incorrect (see chapter 6). Alfred Newton showed this collection to Japetus Steenstrup, who was visiting England from Denmark; he confirmed Newton’s own theory that the bones of the solitaire showed signs of having been eaten by man or other predators (Newton 1865b). Later, however, the brothers Newton (1869), and Anatomical Evidences

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Edward Newton and John Willis Clark (1879) stated that they could find no evidence of predation on any of the bones. The BAAS, at the meeting in Birmingham in 1865, appointed Alfred Newton, along with Philip Lutley Sclater and Henry Baker Tristram, as a “Committee for the purpose of assisting Mr. E. Newton in his researches for the extinct Didine birds of the Mascarene Islands, and to report thereon at the next meeting of the Association; and that the sum of £50 be placed at their disposal for the purpose” (Wollaston 1921, 52; Edward Newton to George Jenner, October 27, 1865, 24/3, 167–169). This exploration for bones was carried out under Jenner’s orders, under the supervision of police sergeant Thomas Morris. “Owing to the scarcity of labourers in that island [Rodrigues] and the irregularity of communication between it and Mauritius, nearly a year passed before anything could be done, and at last it was found necessary to send a small band of coolies[70] to Rodriguez for the express purpose of digging in the caves there. These men were dispatched in August 1866 and returned to Mauritius in about two months, Mr. Jenner sending with them the results of their labour, consisting of nearly 2000 bones or fragments of bones of the Solitaire, with a few others belonging to various animals” (Newton and Newton 1869, 330). Unfortunately it was not possible to “put the coolies under an intelligent superintendent, who could have carefully noted down all the circumstances under which the bones were found” (Newton and Newton 1869, 330), and therefore Jenner was unable to provide a detailed report of the finds, including such facts as the location of the caves investigated, as he was asked to. These remains were exhibited by Edward Newton at the RSASM (E. Newton 1868) and later described by the brothers Newton in a paper read before the Royal Society on June 11, 1868. Meanwhile, George Clark, mentioned above, became interested as to whether remains of the dodo might be found on Mauritius. Sometime around 1864 the railway line to Mahébourg was being constructed, and Clark thought that the cuttings might yield fossils; he questioned the workers on the railway, although without success (Clark 1865). Then, in September 1865, Gaston de Bissy got his workers to dig up a marsh, Mare aux Songes, to remove the material for use as fertilizer. In doing so they found a number of bones. The following is a transcript of Clark’s statement about the discovery of dodo bones; additional notes have been inserted from other sources: I have been nearly thirty years a resident in Mauritius; and the study of natural history having been the favourite recreation of my life, the hope of finding some remains of the unique and extinct bird that once inhabited the island led me to make many inquiries and researches, alike fruitless. After many years of expectation, I had given up my efforts in despair, when, some four or five years ago, the late Dr. P. Ayres[71] visited Mahébourg, the place of my residence. We had previously exchanged several communications on subjects of natural history, and on this occasion visited together the old Dutch and French settlements on the coast opposite Mahébourg. Dr. Ayres suggested to me the probability of finding some remains of the Dodo by digging around the ruins of these habitations; but I did not conceive that the plan had any chance of success. This locality lies at the foot of a mountain called La Montagne du Grand Port, from which, in the rainy season, such floods pour down as to carry into the sea everything resting on the surface of the ground. In fact there is no part of Mauritius where the soil is of such a nature as to render

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probable the accidental interment of substances thrown upon it. . . . Besides this, the tropical rains, of which the violence is well known, sweep the surface of the earth in many places with a force sufficient to displace stones of several hundred pounds weight. In the presence of these facts, I remarked to Dr. Ayres that alluvial deposits were the only spots which I thought likely to contain bones of the Dodo, pointing out to him a delta of many acres in extent, formed by the united deposits of three rivers running into the harbour of Mahébourg, suggesting that, by dredging deeply in that mass of alluvium, interesting remains might probably be found. My attention having thus been drawn to the subject, I passed in review the various localities in my neighbourhood which might offer the most favourable conditions to encourage research. A marsh about three miles [4.8 km] from Mahébourg struck me as a promising spot,[72] and I mentioned it as such to several of my friends; but my time being very fully occupied, and my means restricted, I took no steps to verify my suppositions, promising myself, however, to do so at some future period. In September last, some of my scholars, who well know the interest I take in natural history, informed me that a number of Tortoise-bones had been turned up in a marsh much of the same description as that I had noticed. I repaired to this spot, called “La Mare aux Songes,”* [* “Songe” is the local name of the Calidium esculentum.(73)] and mentioned to Mr. de Bissy, proprietor of the Plaisance estate of which this marsh forms part, my hope that, as the bones of one extinct member of the fauna of Mauritius had been found there, those of another and a much more interesting one might also turn up. He was much pleased with the suggestion, and authorized me to take anything I might find there, and to give orders to his workmen to put aside for me any bones they might find. They were then employed in digging up a sort of peat on the margin of this marsh, to be used as manure [“About two months ago,” i.e., around September 1865 (Clark 1865)]; and in this they found a great number of Tortoise-bones of various kinds[74], with one nearly entire carapace, and also one or two antlers of the Deer now existing in Mauritius† [† This deer has been stated by Mr. Blyth (Ibis, 1862, p.92) to be the Cervus (timorensis) rusa, introduced from Java. – ED. (A. Newton)]. Some days after, a person picked up among the Tortoisebones a piece of the shaft of a tibia about four inches [101.6 mm] long, evidently the bone of a bird.[75] This, of course, quickened my hopes; and after many fruitless visits to the spot, and inspection of the bones turned up as the work went on, I resolved on sending some men into the centre of the marsh, where the water was about three feet [0.91 m] deep [Clark “engaged two men to enter the dark colored water, about three feet deep” (Clark 1865)76]; and there, by feeling in the mud with their naked feet, they met with one entire tibia, a portion of another, and a tarsometatarsus [broken tarsometatarsus (Clark 1865)]. I informed Mr. de Bissy of my success, at which he was greatly delighted; and he kindly gave me the exclusive right to every bone that might be found there, refusing to some applicants permission to search there, saying that as the discovery was entirely mine, he considered that I had prescriptive right to all the bones. The Dodo-bones[77] were imbedded only in the mud at the bottom of the water in the deepest part of the marsh: not one was found among the Tortoise-bones on the margin, except perhaps the fragment of the tibia just mentioned. Encouraged by success, I employed several hands to search in the manner described; but I met with but few specimens of Dodo-bones till I thought of cutting away a mass of floating herbage nearly two feet [0.61 m] in thickness, which covered the deepest part of the marsh. In the mud under this, I was rewarded by finding the bones of many Dodos [“every important bone of that remarkable bird” (Clark 1865)]. There was a much larger proportion of tarsometatarsi than any other bones; next in quantity were the tibiæ [some were nine inches (228.6 mm) long with a proximal width of two inches (50.8 mm; Clark 1865)] and the pelves, after which came the femora [some nearly seven inches (177.8 mm) long and over an inch (25.4 mm) in diameter (Clark 1865)]. Sterna were fewer in number [some were 7 inches (177.8 mm) long and 5 wide (127 mm; Clark 1865)], but more numerous than humeri and coracoids; scapulæ also were more plentiful than the latter. Vertebræ were found

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in considerable abundance [cervical and dorsal vertebrae, and ribs, some of over two inches (50.8 mm) diameter (Clark 1865)]; but it was evident that many of them belonged to different individuals, rendering it difficult to complete a set. Crania were very rare [“Only two or three craniums have been found, with a few fragments” (Clark 1865)], which I attribute to their having been disintegrated by the roots of plants which insinuated themselves into the openings of the head. Lower mandibles of the beak were found in considerable numbers; but most of them had but one ramus, and in none was the posterior portion with the condyle found in situ, though I met with many of these in a detached state [“only three or four have been found in which both rami remained attached. The tip of one upper mandible is two inches (50.8 mm) in depth and an inch (25.4 mm) in thickness” (Clark 1865)]. Upper mandibles were extremely rare, having doubtless been destroyed by the same agency as the crania [“only two tolerably perfect specimens” were found (Clark 1865)]. I only found one coracoid with the furcula and scapula (which three bones in the Dodo were anchylosed together) entire, but I met with several to which the latter was attached. Ulnæ and radii were so scarce that I found but four in all, and only a single metacarpus [not described by Owen (1867)]. I met with one pair of tarsi belonging to a young bird [now apparently lost (pers. obs.)]. Their identity was unmistakeable, and their bulk was less than one-fourth of that of the adult. By far the greatest portion of these bones might be divided into two dimensions perceptibly differing, though not very unequal in size, leading to the belief that the diversity in their respective sizes arose from the difference of sex. All the specimens appear to have belonged to adult birds; and none bear any marks of having been cut or gnawed, or of the action of fire. This leads me to believe that all the Dodos of which relics were found here were denizens either of this marsh or its immediate neighbourhood, that they all died a natural death, and that they were very numerous in Mauritius, or at least this part of it. The astonishment of some very aged creoles, whose fathers remembered Labourdonnais, at seeing a quantity of bones of large birds taken from the mud in this marsh, was really ludicrous. “How,” said they, “could these bones have got there? Neither our fathers nor our grandfathers ever knew of such birds, or heard of such bones being found.” Some of the bones bear evidence of having been chafed by being carried along in a current of water. In a great many, decay has begun at the extremities; and numerous fragments were found, the fracture of which appeared to me to have taken place when the bones were dead and dry. Some specimens were so fresh in appearance that they might have been supposed to belong to animals recently killed: these were found near springs, of which there are two or three in the marsh. Others were as black as ebony;[78] and some found by the side of a “Bois de Natte” tree (Labourdonneia [Labourdonnaisia] revoluta) were nearly the colour of mahogany, but became much paler in drying. Bones of the same sort were found mostly near each other, one spot containing many pelves, another several sterna, and so on. Among the bones of the Dodo were found many belonging to the Flamingo, formerly abundant in Mauritius; to the Whimbrel, still common there; to the Gallinule, also plentiful at present; and to the Egret, which has disappeared within the present century. [Clark (1865) also mentioned bones of a sand lark] Bones of Deer, Pigs, and Monkeys . . . were also discovered. The Deer’s bones only were found in juxtaposition, so as to render it probable that the animal had died on the spot in which they were found. All the Dodos’ beaks wanted the horny tip which clothed them in their original state. Several of them were larger than that represented in the plate in Strickland’s work [Strickland and Melville (1848, pls. viii, ix)]. Not a single bone of the phalanges has been found, although a very diligent search has been made for them. It is possible that, if the marsh in which the bones were discovered could be laid altogether dry, they might be found; but it would be a very tedious and costly work to drain off the water, even in the dry season, as springs rise in it.

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The Mare aux Songes comprises an area of about four or five acres. It is about a quarter of a mile [1.6 km] from the sea, from which it is separated by low sandhills and basaltic rocks. It was originally a ravine, the bottom of which consisted, like that of most ravines in this country, of masses of basalt varying in weight from a few pounds to several tons. It receives the drainage of about two hundred acres [“This would hardly seem sufficient to account for the large number of bones found here” (Hachisuka 1953, 20)], inclining towards it by a gentle slope. In the course of ages the interstices between these masses of basalt have been filled up by alluvium. A luxuriant growth of fern, sedge, and flags has spread from the borders over the deeper parts of the marsh, forming a mass sufficiently compact to allow of a person’s walking across it. This covering, by preserving anything beneath it from the action of the atmosphere, is probably a principal cause of the perfect state of preservation in which the bones under it were found. The Mare aux Songes and the lands around it were covered with thick forests at the beginning of the present century: now not a tree remains. From its sheltered position and the perennial springs which flow in it [“two springs in it” (Clark 1865)], it must have afforded a suitable resort for birds of all kinds, and was probably a favourite abode of Dodos and marsh birds. . . . I have opened diggings in several marshes which appeared to me likely receptacles for the relics of the Dodo, but I have not found a single bone except in the Mare aux Songes. Several gentlemen, witnesses of my success there, have made experiments in other places, but have obtained nothing. Having sent to Professor Owen and Mr. Alfred Newton bones of every kind that I have found, I do not think it necessary to enter into any kind of description of them here, but I hope my communication may still be found sufficiently interesting. Mahébourg, January 6, 1866. (Clark 1866, 141–146)

In 1863 Owen had been introduced to the Bishop of Mauritius, Vincent Ryan, who was at the time in England. He asked Ryan to assist or encourage the collection of zoological specimens for the BM from Madagascar, and in particular of remains of the dodo from Mauritius, to where the Bishop was to soon return. Ryan was notified of the dodo find in September 1865, and in November 1865 Owen received a letter from him regarding the subject: St. James, Port Louis, October 7, 1865. . . . Mr. George Clark, who has for many years devoted himself to the work of teaching in this island with great success, is an ardent student of natural history, and has explored many parts of the island in search of information on the subject. From careful observation he was led to conclude that no remains of the Dodo were likely to be found in any of our watercourses, because of their steep descent and the immense rush of water which sweeps down them at times. But he had also frequently expressed his opinion that in certain marshes, with high banks of sand between them and the sea, such remains would probably be found. In one of these places he has found several of the bones of the Dodo (as he believes), and is now forwarding them home for your inspection [this is the collection that was purchased by the Trustees of the BM for the sum of £100]. At his request, I write these lines to ask for your kind care of his interests in securing any reward which may accrue him. It would be a great pleasure to me to find that his discovery was really important, and likely to be useful to himself; for he has pursued these and similar investigations with an amount of intelligence, skill, and diligence, in his vacation-times (by no means extensive), which deserves much credit and encouragement. . . . [signed] Vincent N. Mauritius.” (quoted in Owen 1867, 50–51)

Clark’s statement was endorsed by both William Thomas Banks, civil chaplain on Mauritius, and Ryan; the endorsement of the latter was dated October 6, 1865. Anatomical Evidences

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Clark retrieved bones in September, October, and November 1865. However, following Bissy’s death on October 27, the new owner of the Plaisance estate refused Clark permission to collect (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, December 7, 1865, 24/3, 208). Clark notified Owen of his find (Clark to Owen, October 6, 1865). Edward Newton (letter to Alfred Newton, October 18, 1865, 24/3, 162) stated that the discovery was made “about three weeks ago.” Clark had wanted to keep his discovery a secret, but secrecy was short lived. Edward Newton and others visited Mare aux Songes during the digging. Newton suggested that Clark should not divulge the quantity of dodo bones discovered, in order to make the most money from the find. He noted, “Clark is working to make as much money from his discovery as he can, so do not let out to anyone how plentiful the bones are. . . . I fear however that the whole thing is now too much blown, and plenty of people will search and find ample remains” (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, October 18, 1865, 24/3, 157–158). Clark presented the account of his discovery at the meeting of the RSASM on October 21, 1865, although only four members, including Gabriel Fropier and Louis Bouton, were present (Vinson 1968). Despite the meeting being recorded in the RSASM archives it was not published. Clark sent his first bones to the Museum Desjardins (the “Museum at the Royal College [Collège Royale]” of Clark 1865) in Port Louis, where, unfortunately, they were not fully appreciated (Cheke and Hume 2008). The find was also reported in the Mauritius Commercial Gazette of November 15, 1865 (Clark 1865). The most perfect batch of dodo bones was, according to Edward Newton, going to be sent to Owen without remuneration, so Edward convinced Clark to dispatch them to Alfred instead (Hume et al. 2009). Edward and Alfred Newton set up a sale of the bones using money from the BAAS. These specimens departed Mauritius in October 1865 with the consent of Ryan and were to be sent to Captain Mylius, Clark’s son-inlaw, of Ladbroke Terrace, Notting Hill, London (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, October 7, 1865, 24/3, 151; Hume et al. 2009). However, the bones were actually sent to Samuel Clark, George Clark’s brother, at Southampton (Clark to Alfred Newton, November 17, 1865; Alfred Newton to Clark, December 26, 1865) and from there to Owen. Thus, the most perfect series of bones went to Owen for the collections of the BM, although Edward Newton thought that Alfred would still be able to examine them (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, October 18, 1865, 24/3, 161), and, indeed, Owen did offer Alfred the possibility (Owen to Alfred Newton, November 8, 1865). Clark sent the bones in October 1865 and, due to his connection with Ryan, Owen was able to obtain them as early as sometime around December 19 of that year (Sclater to Alfred Newton, December 19, 1865). These 100 bones, both complete and fragmentary and of variable size, were enumerated as follows: 14 crania and mandibles, in parts; 30 vertebrae (lacking the atlas and eighteenth vertebra) and pelves; 22 ribs (vertebral and sternal); 2 sterna (1 near complete); 7 elements of the scapular arch (including unfused bones, scapulocoracoid and scapulocoracoid with fused furcula); 2 humeri (1 left, 1 right); 4 ulnae and radii; 5 femora; 6 (or 5 [Owen 1867, 65]) tibiotarsi; 4 fibulae; and 4 tarsometatarsi (from different individuals [Owen 1867]). Comparison of the skull bones and tarsometatarsi with those of the Tradescant specimen confirmed that they were, indeed, from the dodo; the 240

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other bones agreed with the former bones in color, relative size, and source, and thus were also referred to that bird. Along with the bones of the dodo were also part of a mandible of the parrot Lophopsittacus, 2 radii of a small mammal, and part of the skull of Cylindraspis (Owen 1867). On January 13, 1866, the Trustees of the BM authorized Owen to give £100 for 100 bones (BM Trustees’ minutes, Ref. c.10.919 [Hume et al. 2009]). Clark permitted Edward Newton to have a portion of bones found thereafter (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, November 4, 1865, 24/3, 173). These allowed Edward to compare them with those of Pezophaps (E. Newton 1868). In November 1865 Edward Newton suggested to Clark that selling the bones at Stevens’ auction in London79 would be profitable (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, November 4, 1865, 24/3, 173). In the same month Clark requested Edward to ask Alfred to supervise the sales of bones for him (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, November 7, 1865, 24/3, 181). These bones went via Mylius to Alfred (Clark 1865; Newton 1866b; Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, November 18, 1865, 24/3, 192), who examined them prior to sale. Edward also sent bones, given to him by Clark, to Alfred on November 7 (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, November 7, 1865, 24/3, 183). Clark sent a batch of bones to Alfred Newton on November 7, 1865. On November 24, further bones were sent to Owen, via Samuel Clark in Southampton, in addition to batches sent to Alfred for sale (Clark to Alfred Newton, November 23, 1865; Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, January 3, 1866, 24/3, 223). Of those bones sent to Owen, Clark had requested that he send any spare bones to Alfred. However, Owen kept all of these bones,

Anatomical Evidences

5.42.  A dodo skeleton in the NHM (Owen 1871, pls. lxiv, lxv).

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having made new arrangements with Mylius without Clark’s knowledge. As a result, Owen received all the subsequent dodo bones sent. Alfred wrote a MS on the osteology of the dodo, which he submitted for publication in November, maybe to Philip Sclater (Hume et al. 2009; Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, March 4, 1866, 24/3, 247–248). Owen later asked Newton to send him the draft of the paper. On January 9, 1866, Owen presented his own paper on the osteology of the dodo to the ZSL, based on the remains found by Clark. This paper, published in Owen and Broderip (1866) and later in the Transactions of the Society, included a life-size reconstruction of the skeleton of the dodo, constructed with reference to Savery-BM (fig. 3.8). Owen stated, subsequent sets of bones transmitted from the Mauritius, and from which I was privileged to select the most perfect specimens for the present memoir, got into the market and were sold by auction since the present memoir was in type, as bones of the Dodo. I have to express my sincere and grateful acknowledgements to those gentlemen into whose hands these lots have fallen, who have forborne their own advantage and refrained from rushing into print with figures from inferior specimens to anticipate the appearance of a memoir notified (in the “Proceedings of the Zoological Society,” January 9th, 1866) as destined “to be published entire in the Society’s Transactions,” and therefore necessarily awaiting the lithographing of “illustrations,” which every true promoter of science for its own sake must have desired to see as complete as the best-selected materials would permit to be given. – R. O., June 1866. (Owen 1867, 52–53)

Bones were exhibited at the Nottingham Meeting of the BAAS in August 1866 (Newton 1866a). Further specimens sent to Owen, mainly from Clark, allowed the construction of a composite skeleton at the BM by Mr. E. Gerard, jun., which was described by Owen (1871; see fig. 5.42). In April 1866 Clark asked for further financial compensation from the BM (Hume et al. 2009). Further bones of the dodo, after being examined by Newton, were auctioned in London by Stevens. One batch, constituting a large part of the skeleton, was bought at one such auction on March 13, 1866, for the MNHN; here they were studied by Milne-Edwards (Milne-Edwards 1866). Clark was in contact with Edward Newton, who was then able to communicate information on the finds to his brother, Alfred. As Owen had used his influence to obtain the first consignment of dodo bones and, as he had received the bones before the Newtons, he was able to describe them first. Owen had more influential connections than the Newtons did and had “a reputation for being jealous and underhand” (Van Wissen 1995, 74). Alfred Newton had applied to become the first Professor of Zoology and Comparative Anatomy at Cambridge, the post to be judged on March 1, 1866. As Owen had influence, Alfred was concerned that he might use it to thwart his ambition. As such, Alfred withdrew his claim on the bones and retracted the draft paper he had written for review (Hume et al. 2009). Owen and the brothers Newton had become rivals. Edward Newton wrote to Alfred, “I must say that I feel very indignant about the conduct of Owen in the case of Clark’s Dodos. He has shown himself to be a very mean minded illiberal sort, and I am very much vexed that I [sic; = he?] should have been the cause of so much annoyance to you . . . and I greatly fear that Owen may injure you for the professorship in a vindictive manner” (February 4, 1866, 24/3,

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235–236). The conflict between Richard Owen and Alfred Newton over who was to describe the osteology of the dodo entailed financial bribery and academic blackmail, and caused much ill will between them. Harry Pasley Higginson recorded in his journal that in September 1865 Gaston de Bissy was planning to use sediment from a marsh on his property, Mare aux Songes, as a fertiliser and had instructed his men to dig it out. Prior to going to New Zealand, Higginson wrote his travelog, “Reminiscences of Life and Travel 1859 1872.” This was not day-by-day but a series of events under headings, some written long after the event. On a page dated “19 Oct 1865,” he wrote, Discovery of a Dodo Shortly before the completion of the railway I was walking along the embankment [the line passed through the Plaisance Sugar Estate and within 100m of Mare aux Songes (Grihault 2006)] one morning when I noticed some coolies removing some peat soil from a small morass [Mare aux Songes]. They were separating and placing into heaps a number of bones of various sorts among the debris. I stopped and examined them as they appeared to belong to birds and reptiles and we had always been on the lookout for bones of the then mythical Dodo. So I filled my pocket with the most promising ones for further examination. A Mr [George] Clarke, the Government schoolmaster at Mahebourg, had Professor Owen’s book on the Dodo so I took the bones to him for comparison with the book plates. The result showed that many of the bones undoubtedly belonged to the Dodo. This was so important a discovery that Clarke obtained leave to go out to the morass and personally superintend the search for more. He eventually despatched a large quantity to the British Museum, which sold for several hundred pounds. I sent a box full to the Liverpool, York and Leeds museums from which, in the former, a complete skeleton was erected. This is the only spot in the world where these bones have been found; and all that are now to be seen in various collections came out of the same bog, only 200 feet [61m] in diameter. (6b; quoted in Hume et al. 2009, 36, 38)

The mention of Owen’s book (Owen and Broderip 1866) indicates that the entry was written after August 1866 and was a recollection of events; Higginson perhaps confused Owen’s work with that of Strickland and Melville (1848). This may also suggest that Higginson and Clark were unaware of each other’s discoveries until Higginson went to see Clark. Thus, both may have thought they were the first to identify the bones as dodo (contra Hume and Prys-Jones 2005). Higginson reported that on noticing bones found by men working for Bissy, Clark “prosecuted a fresh search, and found the bones of the Dodo, which have, I believe, been sent to the British Museum. I had men searching for them in conjunction with him, and succeeded in finding a great many bones that were still wanting to complete a skeleton” (Higginson, November 5, 1865 [see Redish 1866, 232]). Clark made no mention of Higginson in his article, but in a letter to Owen, dated July 6, 1866, he spoke against an unnamed person who claimed to be the discoverer and identifier of the dodo bones. The first page is missing (by chance or on purpose) so the person’s identity is unknown (Hume and Prys-Jones 2005; NHM Archives); this, indeed, may have been Higginson (Hume et al. 2009). However, Clark mentioned other dodo bones, which are probably those sent to Liverpool in 1866 by Higginson.

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5.43.  Label accompanying a collection of Pezophaps bones (UMZC 652), received at Cambridge, March 1879. There are two 18th and one 14th vertebrae and a partial notarium.

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Clark also communicated to Owen that someone, not named, had paid people to collect “his” dodo bones at night without permission (Clark to Owen, n.d. [December 1865 or ?January/February 1866], 123 [Hume et al. 2009]). Charles John Boyle, having left Mauritius shortly after Clark’s discovery, remarked, “I believe I had the honour of being a fellow-traveller with a box of dodo relics sent home [to England] by another ornithologist [other than Clark] of repute” (1867, 265). These bones were probably those sent with Archibald Anson by Edward Newton for Alfred, those sent by Clark to Alfred on November 7, 1865, or those sent for Owen and Alfred on November 24 (Hume et al. 2009). From Clark’s dodo bones, constituting much of the skeleton, MilneEdwards (1866) described the osteology of the dodo. Other dodo bones were sent to Réunion and were examined by Gervais and Coquerel (1866). Clark wrote to Owen on November 23, 1865 (135; quoted in Hume et al. 2009) that no further dodo bones could be obtained from Mare aux Songes, although this may have been in order to maintain a high price for them. Edward Newton endeavored to obtain further bones from Mare aux Songes (Newton 1866a), but was apparently unsuccessful. He planned to instigate a company with Henry Barkly and Walmsley Stanley, railway engineer, “limited to us three,” to excavate another marsh (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, November 7, 1865, 24/3, 175) – this also proved unsuccessful (Edward Newton to Alfred Newton, November 18, 1865, 24/3, 191). In 1866 Barkly proposed to the RSASM that Mare aux Songes should be drained The Dodo and the Solitaire

in order to extract more bones. A committee was set up, with Edward as president. In July 1866 Edward obtained an estimate of £70 from Stanley for draining of the marsh (MS in RSASM Archives [Hume et al. 2009]). It was decided at the meeting of October 25, 1866, that the cost was too high, the £30 from the BAAS funds that Edward had saved being insufficient (this was later used for Rodrigues excavations), and the project was abandoned (Vinson 1968). At Edward Newton’s request, Jenner continued with his search for solitaire bones on Rodrigues, from January 15 to February 15, 1871, and further bones were found in the caves. Jenner sent these to Newton, along with a detailed report describing the localities (Jenner 1871); the majority of these bones were placed in the University Museum of Cambridge. In 1874, on the occasion of the Transit of Venus expedition, the naturalist Henry Horrocks Slater was commissioned by the Royal Society to collect additional bones. The expedition to Rodrigues – including Isaac Bayley Balfour (who was to be the geologist and botanist), George Gulliver (who was to investigate the fauna) and Slater – arrived at Port Mathurin, Rodrigues, on September 14 and stayed for three months.80 Slater was assisted by nine men and a cook, and they traveled to the caves of Plaine Corail in small boats from Port Mathurin as the terrain was so rough that it would have been very expensive to transport his equipment overland. Slater arrived at the site on September 19 and set up camp. He excavated those caves which had been previously

Anatomical Evidences

5.44.  Reconstructed skeletons of Pezophaps (Newton and Newton 1869, pl. xxiv [“S.Ayling Photog.r. G.H.Ford, lith.” “W.West imp.”]). Left: UMZC 415.S. Right: UMZC 415.R.

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dug, to a depth of three feet [0.91 m] and found numerous tortoise and some solitaire bones. Slater found “all the caves” while out on his evening walks. He found that many of the caverns he visited in his preliminary survey had already been examined: out of the first 13 caves he looked at, 12 showed evidence of previous work (Slater 1879a, 1879b). On October 7, he found some new caves: “These formed a branch of a cavern already dug, but as entrance to them was extremely difficult, they had hitherto escaped notice. In these we found a large quantity of Solitaire bones and the almost perfect skeletons of a male and female mingled, including the rings of the trachea; very few tortoise bones were intermixed, and I found it an almost invariable rule, that where Solitaire bones were found in large numbers and apparently occupying the spots where they died, there were few or no tortoise bones among them” (Slater 1879a, 294). On October 23, Slater “was waiting for my head man near a curious ravine which we called ‘the Gorge,’ intending to make a survey of it with a view to new caves, when I noticed a small dark hole behind a huge block of coralline limestone” (294; “the Gorge” is now probably part of the François Leguat Giant Tortoise and Cave Reserve [Grihault 2007]). This hole lead to a large cavern which had been obscured by a rock fall, in which were found numerous bones, including the skeleton of a solitaire which had apparently fallen into a crevice and was unable to get out. On November 6, another new cave was found, which also contained many bones, but following this no new caverns of interest were located (Slater 1879a). Slater mostly dug along a narrow ravine 30–90 ft [9.1–27.4 m] deep, with a cave at each end and caves along the sides; “in these caves most of my specimens of any value were found” (Slater 1879b,

5.45.  BM skeletons. Left: male Pezophaps (A3505). Right: Raphus (Pycraft 1931, 699).

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5.46.  Male (left) and female (right) Pezophaps skeletons (Owen 1879, pl. iv, figs.1, 2 [“C. L. Griesbach.” “Mintern Bros. imp.”]). BMNH A3505, A3506.

421). He added that “judging from the hollow sound of the coral in various places under my boots, [there were] other caves with no mouths at all, but I did not judge it needful to open them” (421). Slater was unable to find any solitaire gastroliths, although he searched for them. The resulting number of solitaire bones was as great as that of previous searches. Several skeletons, both male and female, were constructed from the solitaire bones found (figs. 5.43–5.47) – most of which are in the NHM. Slater stated in his report, Below about two feet [0.61 m] I never found many bones, which makes me believe that the agency which deposited the bones in the caverns, never operated until the later days of the existence of the Solitaire. The bones might certainly have decayed, but yet I usually found that the bones which were well covered with earth were in much better preservation than those near or upon the surface, which were usually much decayed. This makes me think that the Solitaire resorted to the caverns in case of fire in the island, which has been known to have denuded it several times of its trees; more so, as in several cases I found nearly perfect skeletons, which lay evidently as they died; this precludes the idea that they were carried there by wild cats. Again, in the bottom of a cleft near the mouth of a cave, I found the greater part of the skeletons of a male and female Solitaire; they had clearly fallen in and were unable to extricate themselves, but the bones being but imperfectly covered, many bones were so much decayed as to prevent their removal. (Slater 1879b, 422) Anatomical Evidences

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The majority of Jenner’s specimens were placed in the UMZC, while most of Slater’s were placed in the NHM (Günther and Newton 1879; pers. obs.). These remains helped to corroborate Leguat’s description of the solitaire. The other bird bones were described by Albert Günther and Edward Newton (1879). In 1875 William James Caldwell visited Rodrigues for almost three months and excavated two complete solitaire skeletons (which have since been lost [Newton and Gadow 1896]), in addition to three or four gastroliths:

5.47.  UMZC skeletons. Left: Raphus (UMZC 415.R) with a cast of the Tradescant head. Right: male Pezophaps (Newton and Gadow 1910, figs. 1, 3). Not to scale.

a large portion of the south-western part [of Rodrigues] is composed of very ancient upheaved coral, abounding in fissures and caverns large and small, a number of which were minutely explored and dug over by Mr. H. Slater in the latter end of last year. So effectually had Mr. Slater done his work that though I several times visited the large caverns and some smaller fissures, I only succeeded in getting two Solitaire-bones, and at last I spent a couple of days consecutively in the search and got nothing. The next morning, after another ineffectual search, we were returning home to camp to breakfast, when Sergeant Morris of the Police Force went into a small hole to procure me a few semifossil shells of [the gastropod] Helix bewsheriana (Morelet, Journal de Conch. 1875, p.23), and found a magnificent tibia. Of course we all entered, and found the hole to be the entrance of a small but very well formed cavern of three stories formed like steps, none of the chambers being more than 10 feet square [9.3 m2], and close alongside one of the large caverns in which a mass of bones had already been found. How it had been overlooked I am at a loss to conjecture. We remained till half-past four, digging with hands, nails, and pointed sticks in the loose and nearly dry earth; and I obtained the remains of at least 37 birds, 248

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5.48.  Smithsonian Institution dodo skeleton (True 1905, pl. lxxvi). UMZC V16856.

besides bones of Tortoises, Gulls (of several kinds) Bats, &c. &c., and many shells of Gasteropoda. It was this same Sergeant Morris who, under the direction of Mr. George Jenner, had already procured for Mr. Edward Newton the handsome collection of Solitaire-bones on which he and his brother prepared the memoir published in the Phil. Trans. for 1869, vol.clix. Morris is an enthusiastic naturalist in his way; and had he, at the time when he collected these bones, had the slightest training, I have no doubt many perfect specimens would have been obtained, by keeping separate the bones which apparently belonged to any one bird. Out of the number of birds I have mentioned, I got that day a skeleton all but complete. I suppose it to be female, as the fighting bones are not largely developed, although the bird is evidently mature. On one side there are seven ribs complete; but I find no trace of the articulation of the eighth dorsal rib (see Messrs. Newton’s paper, Phil. Trans. vol.clix. 1869, p.334) though in another specimen there is about 3/4 of an inch [19 mm] of this rib existing on each side. Anatomical Evidences

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5.49.  Durban dodo skeleton (Chubb 1919, pl. xvii).

The two pubic bones are in very good preservation; and though, unfortunately, one was broken off in taking the bones from the earth, I have been able to reunite it perfectly to the pelvis. The posterior extremities of these bones in different specimens present most singular variations. The pelvis is quite complete on the right side; but the posterior end is missing on the left; I am not sure, however, that I did not put it away at the time and that it will not be found: the caudal extremity is incomplete; but I found several detached bones, which I have not attempted to put in place. It should be remarked that the ununited skeleton has not got the atlas bone. It was broken and so delicate I dare not mount it. The sternum is very complete, the outline being perfect except on the right side, where the lateral process is broken off, though I am not yet sure I have not got the fragment put aside. The furcula is unbroken, and very small when compared with the size of the bird. The head is very complete in every respect, and the cervical and dorsal vertebræ, on the whole remarkably well preserved, as are also the wing- and leg-bones: the feet are quite complete. A second skeleton of a male (?) bird is far from being so perfect as the one just described, but still will make a capital specimen. One side of the sternum is complete, the head very nearly so; but the pelvis is somewhat damaged, though one of the pubic bones is in place. The vertebræ of the neck are not in such good order as in the other one. . . . The cave which I explored was in a sort of cliff, and the entrance was about eight feet [2.43 m] above the bed of the ravine, which ultimately became a cavern; and there were no marks whatever of any action of water beyond the filtration from the roof in a few spots. . . . I omitted to mention that I got, both with the mounted bird and the male bird, the stones mentioned by Leguat as existing in the gizzard. In each case they were 250

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found on lifting the sternum and in the middle of the ribs. They are basaltic pebbles with rough angles and surfaces, and no stone of similar kind is to be found within about two miles [3.2 km] of the caverns. I got four in all, but only two of which I could identify the birds they belonged to. (Caldwell 1875, 644–647)

Edward Newton was the first to recognize sexual dimorphism in the bones of Pezophaps; previously Bartlett (1851), Strickland (1853), and Alfred Newton had attributed the variation in the sizes of the bones to the presence of two distinct species – P. solitaria (for the larger series of bones) and P. minor (for the smaller series) – rather than a dimorphic pair. Alfred later realized that he was in error and followed the view of his brother Edward (Newton 1865b). Alfred Newton said of the matter, “It is some consolation to me to find that Mr. Strickland . . . was led into the same error – a pardonable one, I think, when the absence . . . of all bones of intermediate size, such as I now possess, is considered” (1865b, 716). Edward Newton and John Willis Clark’s paper on the osteology of the solitaire (1879) further described and figured bones of Pezophaps. Most of the material studied was from Jenner’s collection at the UMZC, but the Council of the Royal Society also gave them access to the collection of Slater. Unfortunately, none of the bones from the collections of Jenner or Slater could be proved to belong to the same individual. Slater had written a similar report to that of Jenner (1871), in which he described the locations of where the remains had been found. As such, Newton and Clark were not able to print that of the latter due to the similarity of the former’s report (Newton and Clark 1879). The lieutenant governor of Mauritius, Frederick Napier-Broome, visited Rodrigues in June 1881 on the Euryalus and obtained some bones from William Vandorous, Rodrigues pilot, stating that Vandorous was, “it is believed . . . the only inhabitant of Rodriguez in possession of such bones.”81 NapierBroome then authorised the magistrate to spend some money for further searches, which yielded a box of bones that were sent to the RSASM (NorthCoombes 1971). Evidence of such previous excavations as those mentioned above is still visible in Caverne Tamarin (Middleton 1995). Caldwell continued with the search for bones on Mauritius, and in 1885, an extract from a letter addressed to the Secretary of the ZSL by Caldwell, dated “Museum, Port Louis, September 3rd, 1885” was read at the meeting of the Society on November 3, 1885: I have only a few minutes before the mail leaves, to inform you that the day before yesterday one of my collectors found a hitherto unknown deposit of Dodo bones. I shall be off in a few days to examine it. There is no doubt about the few specimens he brought me, as the upper mandible is precisely the same as that figured in Strickland’s Monograph, plate viii., but a trifle larger. I have given orders not to have any of the remains disturbed till I reach the spot myself, so that there may be no mixing up of the remains of separate birds, if we should be fortunate enough to find anything like an entire specimen. The locality is in the south-west of the island in a small cavern. (Anon. 1885, 719)

Later, Edward Newton received a letter from Evenor Dupont, a shell collector from Mauritius, “with the endorsement of Mr. C. E. Bewsher,” which stated that Caldwell had been misled, and the bones were actually those of a turkey: Anatomical Evidences

251

Port Louis, Mauritius, March 20, 1890. . . . I write to correct a statement made by the late Mr. Caldwell and published in the Proceedings of the Zoological Society, to the effect that Dodo bones have been found in a cavern in Mauritius. Mr. Caldwell, I believe, was induced to make this statement on the faith of a story told to him by one of our native collectors (a Creole) here who brought him the bones. The whole thing was a fraud, and I am afraid the bones were not those of the Dodo, but Turkey’s. I searched for them without success in Mr. Caldwell’s collections when they were sold after his death. I have never heard of any Dodo bones being found except in a marsh at Flacq (by Mr. Ange Régnard, one bone, doubtful) and in the Mare aux Songes at Grand Port. I am the more inclined to discredit the story of the Cave bones, as these men, who for years have made a business of hunting for specimens of Natural History (one of whom brought the bones to Mr. Caldwell), have more than once tried to pass off doctored shells as new species and not always without success. (quoted in Newton 1890, 402)

Charles Bewsher endorsed this: “On my return to Mauritius two years ago, I went very carefully into this question of the Cave bones, and the result of my enquires led me to the same conclusion as my friend Dupont. I fully endorse all he has said, and would add that Mr. Caldwell was in very failing health both bodily and mentally lately, and so the cunning Creole imposed on him more easily” (quoted in Newton 1890, 402). Edward Newton added that he considered it unlikely that bones of the dodo might be found in the caves of Mauritius, as they were usually flooded in the rainy season and that any modern deposits would be washed away. Théodore Sauzier announced these letters at the meeting of the RSASM on September 17, 1891. In response, the secretary Albert Daruty de Grandpré exhibited the bones and stated that they were in fact from the dodo, an identification supported by the president, Charles Poupinel de Valencé (Vinson 1968). In addition, Donald d’Emmerez de Charmoy, curator of the Museum Desjardins, Port Louis, also mentioned, in a letter to Alfred Newton dated December 30, 1904, that Caldwell’s specimens were indeed those of a dodo and were found in “Cave Noyale.”82 Furthermore, it should be noted that Caldwell was an educated man with osteological knowledge of the solitaire (see above). In 1889 the government of Mauritius appointed a “Comité des Souvenirs historiques,” with Théodore Sauzier as president. Sauzier, a Mauritian living in Paris, had returned to the island in 1889 (Newton and Gadow 1893). With government funding and the aid of many attendants he undertook searches in Mare aux Songes from 1890 to 1892 (Vinson 1968; NorthCoombes 1991; between 1891 and 1892 [Grihault 2005b]), which resulted in many more bones being found, including those of Cylindraspis, Leiolopisma mauritiana, deer and native birds, as well as those of dodos. The remains of marine invertebrates were also found. Sauzier sent numerous bones of the dodo to Edward Newton (Pitot 1905; Newton and Gadow 1893). It was from Sauzier’s series of bones that a skeleton was constructed at the UMZC and subsequently presented to the Mauritius Museum by Sauzier (Pitot 1914). The bones of the dodo and other birds found during these searches were described and figured by Edward Newton and Hans Gadow (1893). The remains of the dodo included several bones previously unknown: the atlas, 18th vertebra, both carpometacarpi, alar phalanx 1 of digit II, the medial portion of the distal part of the furcula, and the distal third of the pubes. At least one specimen of each of the previously unknown bones, plus a series of others, was presented to the UMZC by Sauzier on behalf of the Comité 252

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(Newton and Gadow 1893). The finds also included pedal phalanges that were known previously only from the Tradescant specimen. The dodo material also allowed Newton and Gadow to determine the number and arrangement of ribs in that bird. Many of Sauzier’s dodo specimens are currently housed in the collections of the UMZC (UMZC 415K). Private searches for dodo bones continued after 1889. An amateur naturalist and collector, Étienne Thirioux of Mauritius, collected several dodo bones from various sites. He donated part of his collection to the Museum Desjardins (now the Mauritius Institute). Following Thirioux’s donation, the collection of the Mauritius Institute gradually deteriorated through neglect and mismanagement, “culminating with the recently deceased director actually throwing out specimens wholesale” (Hume 2001). Thirioux’s dodo finds are summarized elsewhere (see “The Dodologist’s Miscellany”). Anatomical Evidences

5.50.  Andrew Kitchener’s dodo reconstruction.

253

From 1904 to 1907 Paul Carié, an amateur naturalist attached to the MNHN, also excavated in Mare aux Songes, of which he was joint owner – it being part of the estate of Mon Desir, which his family had inherited in 1902 (Cheke and Hume 2008; Hume et al. 2009). This resulted in the recovery of bones of the same birds found previously, as well as numerous remains of tortoises, lizards, and bats (Carié 1930). Then, from 1910 to 1913, he made excavations in Mare aux Songes and the localities Thirioux had explored: the mountains surrounding Port Louis (including Le Pouce), Montagne du Corps de Garde, and the mountains around Rivière Noire (Carié 1930). Carié donated numerous dodo bones to the MNHN, among which was a dodo skull from the Vallée des Prêtres, later described by Anwar Janoo (MAD 5971, MAD 6530 [Janoo 1996]) and specimens from Mare aux Songes. Unfortunately, however, he did not clearly define the sites he investigated (Janoo 2005). Benoit Camille Sumeire possessed several skeletons of Pezophaps around 1905 or 1906 (Carié 1930). In 1916 additional bones of Pezophaps were found in a cavern (Bertuchi 1923).83 However, Slater’s excavations were very thorough and few caves were left untouched. In 1974 the British Ornithologists’ Union visited Rodrigues (Cowles 1987) and Anthony Cheke collected solitaire material from the caverns (Anthony Cheke, pers. comm., April 18, 2011). During World War II, British troops were posted at Chaland, and toward the end of 1942 Mare aux Songes was drained and then covered with volcanic rock to a depth of 6 feet (1.82 m) by British troops in an attempt to fight malaria (Vinson 1968; Parker 2007). By this time it was generally believed that Mare aux Songes was exhausted of subfossils (Rijsdijk et al. 2005). Bones of Cylindraspis triserrata and a dodo cervical vertebra were recovered when compressed air was forced down a borehole made at Mare Sèche by David Ball in June 1973. The borehole, which was later sealed and marked “C.W.A./G.W.R 315,” was 75 m deep. Analysis of the core showed that the bones were from the top 3 m. Unfortunately, the RSASM was unable to excavate (Staub 1996). At a meeting of the RSASM on April 15, 1992, Claude Michel suggested that the peat of Mare aux Songes should be investigated to see whether it might still contain bones. In the 1990s Norio Kondo, of the Tokyo University of Agriculture, was researching the dodo, supported by an ornithologist member of the Japanese imperial family. He contacted his friend, Robert Antoine of MTMD, and in 1993, five cores, 6 to 9 m in length, were taken at Mare aux Songes to provide a profile of the locality. In two of these were bone fragments identified by Tokyo University as being those of dodos. At a meeting of the RSASM on November 10, 1993, it was reported that one of the cores contained a fragment of dodo bone, latan seeds, and coral sand. Kondo recommended that excavations be undertaken to find further bones (Anon. 2006). Unfortunately, the Japanese ornithologist died, followed by Antoine (in September 1996), and the project was terminated (D’Espaignet 2001; Grihault 2005b). The cores were never collected and were not studied until 2005, when Rijsdijk, Bunnik and Floore looked at them (Nicholls 2006; see below). Recently, Andrew Kitchener studied the bones of the dodo for a reconstruction of the bird (Kitchener 1990, 1993a, 1993b; see fig. 5.50). He 254

The Dodo and the Solitaire

was asked by the Marquis of Bute, John Crichton-Stuart, to produce a new reconstruction of the dodo, and in doing so he studied various aspects of the skeleton to deduce what the bird looked like in life. Bradley C. Livezey, an expert on the flightlessness of birds, undertook an ecomorphological review of the dodo and solitaire (Livezey 1993). He used measurements of 387 skeletal elements and used comparative data from four volant columbids, as well as mensural data from other columbids and from the literature. In the late 1990s a dodo bone was discovered in the roof of a cave near Mahébourg Bay. The find was made, probably in 1999, on a visit to the cave by Owen Griffiths (who knew the cave), Owen’s mother, Carl Jones, Jeremy Austin, and Nick Arnold. The cave was likely once filled with alluvium containing bones; the uppermost of these becoming attached to the cave roof by carbonate-rich water percolating through the limestone above and the alluvium subsequently washed away (Nick Arnold, pers. comm., May 4, 2008; see also discussion of Puits des Hollandais in chapter 6). The French palaeontologist Didier Dutheil discovered a fragmentary dodo cranium in 1999, at a site in the north of Mauritius. He found the locality on February 10, 1998, with Anwar Janoo and discovered the dodo cranium on June 17, 1999: I found the locality with Anwar Janoo in 1998 when we make the [French television] documentary “Who Ate the Last Dodo?” [“Qui a mangé le dernier dodo?” (1999)]. A local farmer gave to us the location. In fact we would like to find calcareous outcrops. . . . In the small place we found hard limestone and in the matrix some bone[s] of turtle and chiropterans. . . . We stayed only half an hour to look for fossil[s]. One year after[ward], to complete our documentary, I came back in Mauritius and in the locality. In ten minute[s] I found the dodo skull. Unfortunately, we stay[ed] only another half an hour because the tropical storm announced [in] the morning came with a really strong rain” (Didier Dutheil, pers. comm., March 11, 2011).

The cranium is currently in the care of Janoo in Mauritius. Unfortunately, many calcarenite sites have been mined and the locality may since have been destroyed (Anthony Cheke, pers. comm., March 12, 2009). The Maroon Archaeology Project Between 2002 and 2004 an archeological survey commissioned by the National Heritage Trust Fund, lead by Amitava Chowdhury, and conducted by the University of Mauritius, resulted in the discovery by Chowdhury of further dodo bones in a maroon context (Chowdhury 2003; Amitava Chowdhury, pers. comm., August 8, 2007). Anwar Janoo found the leg of a dodo in 2003 at Baie du Cap (Anwar Janoo, pers. comm., June 25, 2007; Janoo 2005). He also identified other dodo bones from the specimens collected at Baie du Cap, Treize Cantons and Plaine des Roches. Janoo subsequently described the dodo bones found at Baie du Cap and Plaine des Roches. Those of Baie du Cap were found in rock shelters and were “probably the first concrete evidence of dodo predation to be associated with direct human activity” (2005, 168). The specimens, cataloged as AJ-BDC (Baie du Cap) and AJ-PDR (Plaine des Roches) by Janoo, were temporarily deposited in the University of Mauritius (Janoo 2005). They were held in private custody as they were found on Anatomical Evidences

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5.51.  Pezophaps bones in situ in Caverne L’Affouche.

private land (Anwar Janoo, pers. comm., June 25, 2007). However, the specimens, including the dodo bones, were given to the Mauritius Museums Council on May 17, 2004 (Anon. 2005c) and are now kept at the Mauritius Museums Council’s permanent collection. The dodo specimens have the catalog number MP/RC/24/1 (Amitava Chowdhury, pers. comm., August 8, 2007). (See chapter 6 for further details.) Solitaires In November 1997 Jeremy Austin and Nick Arnold, of the NHM, found the skeleton of a solitaire in Caverne L’Affouche (fig. 5.51). It was located “at the end of a very narrow sloping passage from the main floor of the cave, that was partly filled with earth and quite difficult to wriggle in to. We looked for gizzard stones but could not find any” (Nick Arnold, pers. comm., March 28, 2008). The specimen was collected by Arnold, Austin, and local collaborators and is currently in storage at the NHM and is to be formally accessioned at some stage (Nick Arnold, pers. comm., March 28, 2008; Jeremy Austin, pers. comm., March 31, 2008). In December 1997 an expedition of the NHM and the Mauritian Wildlife Foundation found the remains of solitaires, tortoises, and lizards (Koenig et al. 2004). Julian Hume discovered a partly articulated solitaire in situ in “a remote corner” of Caverne Poule Rouge (PCV20), where it still resides undisturbed, partly buried in flowstone (Middleton 2008, 288). In 2005 he measured it and made field drawings and Lorna Steel photographed it (fig. 5.52; Julian Hume, pers. comm., January 29, 2008). On November 5, 2006, Owen Griffiths found a solitaire tibiotarsus (fig. 5.53) in Caverne Vosmaeri at the François Leguat Giant Tortoise and Cave Reserve site, with Hume and Steel (Owen Griffiths, pers. comm., August 23, 2009; September 8, 2009). Remains of solitaires, other birds, tortoises, microvertebrates, and terrestrial gastropods were discovered in Caverne Poule Rouge and Caverne

256

The Dodo and the Solitaire

5.52.  Pezophaps bones in situ in Caverne Poule Rouge.

Tortue in November 2007. These were found within the sediment, but not deep (Milner 2007). As part of their molecular phylogenetic research Shapiro et al. (2002) took a sample from a femur of Pezophaps found in the Caverne Bambara cave system by Austin. A solitaire bone also remains embedded within Grande Caverne (Greg Middleton, pers. comm., March 20, 2008).84 Other solitaire finds (specimens now in the museum of the François Leguat Giant Tortoise and Cave Reserve) include the following: Caverne Poule Rouge (August 2005, August 2008, November 7 and 10, 2006) Caverne Bambara (1999 SESCR, March 11, 1999) near the beach, Les Graviers (November 2006) Caverne L’Affouche (November 4, 2006) Caverne Bambara II (November 12, 2006) Caverne Tortue (November 11, 12, and 14, 2006) Caverne Monseigneur (November 13, 2008) Caverne Mus Zon (November 13, 2008) Caverne Dora (November 20, 2008) Caverne Solitaire (November 22, 2008) New cave (November 21, 2008) “Electric pole cave” (November 28, 2008) Grande Montagne Visitor and Information Centre A near-complete solitaire skeleton is on display at the Grande Montagne Visitor and Information Centre, Rodrigues (fig. 5.54). The skeleton was discovered by Jean-Richard Payendee, representative of the Mauritius Wildlife Foundation in Rodrigues, at Caverne Poule Rouge in 2000 along with that of Cylindraspis peltastes (Jhabeemisur 2006; Grihault 2007). Payendee informed his Mauritian colleagues, including Kader Kalla, former director Anatomical Evidences

5.53.  Owen Griffiths holding a Pezophaps tibiotarsus. 257

5.54.  Pezophaps remains, Grande Montagne Visitor and Information Centre (Grihault 2007, 86. Photograph by Bob Latimer).

of the Mauritius Museums Council, who wanted to display the specimen in Mauritius (Rose 2006). However, Payendee wanted the remains to stay in Rodrigues; the specimens were excavated by the Rodrigues team of the Mauritian Wildlife Foundation in 2002.85 The bones were identified and assembled by Julian Hume in 2005 (Andrea Waterstone, pers. comm., April 18, 2008) and were placed in the Grande Montagne Nature Reserve Educational Centre in Rodrigues in April 2006 and are currently on display there (Andrea Waterstone, pers. comm., April 18, 2008; Jhabeemisur 2006). However, the bones on display are not all from the same individual and Hume had to supplement the specimen with bones from other sites in order to complete it (Julian Hume, pers. comm., May 14, 2009). 2005–2009 Mare aux Songes Excavations On October 19, 2005, Kenneth F. Rijsdijk, Frans P. M. Bunnik, and Pieter Floore (who had been working at Fort Frederik Hendrik) visited Mare aux Songes and examined the cores taken in 1993 (see above; Anon. 2005a). They took a further core from the site using an auger and the following day Bunnik extracted a dodo tibiotarsus from the ground (Parker 2007). Using a mechanical digger, an excavation 3 × 3 m in area, and 1.5 m deep, was made, sited from data from six cores. This excavation on October 28 and 29 resulted in the discovery of c. 88 bones (19 kg), mostly Cylindraspis, but also including dodo, as well as plant remains and seeds (Hanneke Meijer, pers. comm., December 29, 2009; Rijsdijk et al. 2005). The layer excavated 258

The Dodo and the Solitaire

was beneath that investigated in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries (Rijsdijk et al. 2009). Following the initial discovery of dodo bones Rijsdijk contacted Naturalis. The bones found were placed in the custody of MTMD, but some samples were sent to the Netherlands for dating and exhibition (see chapter 6). An international team returned on June 2, 2006, supported by Naturalis and TNO. Geomorphological and geophysical surveys were conducted in the first three days to identify a favorable site and 12 cores, up to 8 m long, were taken. On June 16 a second excavation was made, and on June 21 another area was excavated. Sediment was sieved using a sieve stack and further bones were found. The team departed on July 3, 2006. Twelve bones, comprising 10 of tortoise and 2 of dodo, were sent to the Netherlands by Christian Foo Kune, manager of MTMD, for 14C analysis. In all, three pits (14 m2) were excavated in subbasins I and III (see fig. 6.35) using shovel scoops (1 m × 0.8 m × 0.8 m; Rijsdijk et al. 2009). Although 4000 bones had been found up to this time, no remains of introduced animals were discovered. On July 29, 2006, the Dodo Research Foundation (DRF; a.k.a. The Dodo Research Programme, DRP) was officially established, for the purpose of elucidating the paleoenvironment of Mare aux Songes. The team returned in 2007, the fieldwork lasting from August 6 to 15. A 2 × 2 m excavation, pit MAS 2006-TR1A, was made, from which the water was pumped out (Rijsdijk et al. 2009; this was known as the “dodo polder”). Several test trenches were dug (tr0–4), but only Trench 1, the “dodo polder,” was more extensively excavated. Unfortunately, positional details of dodo bones could not be accurately assessed from the scoops. The sediment was minutely examined and sieved. Bones were washed, dried on large cardboard sheets in the sugar factory and recorded. Beth Shapiro took specimens for DNA analysis. On October 18, 2008, the expedition returned to Mare aux Songes. At least 65 sacks of subfossil material (5000 kg [Noorderlicht blog]) had been obtained the previous year from the “dodo polder”; these had been placed back in the “dodo polder” until 2008 when they could be further processed. Due to size variation in dodo bones, particularly femora, Naturalis student Anneke van Heteren suggested, improbably, that there might have been more than one dodo taxon (Stoelinga 2008; Noorderlicht blog). Another suggestion, since disproved, was that they represented adults and juveniles. Further investigation was undertaken by Hanneke Meijer, John de Vos, Julian Hume, and Anwar Janoo. The large variation in size and morphology of dodo bones might be due to intraspecific variation, sexual dimorphism, or perhaps morphological radiation (pers. obs.; Hanneke Meijer, pers. comm., January 22, 2009), but it is very unlikely that more than one species is involved. 4071 bones were collected, including 54 of dodo, and on November 2 the team departed (Noorderlicht blog). The fourth expedition, from July 1 to 22, 2009, further excavated the 2 × 2 m “dodo polder.” For each bone the size, orientation, and position was plotted, and the highest postition measured with laser altimeter; these data were entered into a computer and charts constructed. Photographs were also taken. During the course of the 2005–2009 DRP excavations, geophysical analyses were undertaken to determine structure of the basin and position Anatomical Evidences

259

of the fossiliferous layer(s). The upper layer of anthropogenic basalt blocks was removed using a mechanical excavator. Water was pumped out and dams built. Sediment was wet sieved and finds were photographed and packed. The sieving installation consisted of a series of sieves, from 150 to 2 mm mesh width. Smaller sieves of mesh widths 1–0.25 mm were also used. Cores up to 11 m long were removed. Groundwater analysis was also undertaken. Using this information the ecosystem of Mare aux Songes will eventually be able to be reconstructed in detail. Bone samples of approximately 50 mg were taken for 14C analysis at the University of Groningen. Two boxes of ground-up bones were used by Hans van de Plicht for age determination (Anon. 2007a). Samples were also taken for DNA analysis at the Univeristy of Oxford and the University of Leiden. Attempts to extract DNA from dodo collagen were made using Mare aux Songes dodo bones, both from the DRP excavations (the bones sent to the Netherlands by Foo Kune; see above) and from previous finds (NHM specimens). PCR amplifications were conducted using generic avian and dodo-specific primers. These analyses were unsuccessful (Beth Shapiro, pers. comm., February 21, 2008; Rijsdijk et al. 2009) due to the thermal age of c. 49 ky at 10°C and ratios of D/L isomers of aspartic acid of 0.17 and 0.15, which is beyond the limit of DNA survival (Rijsdijk et al. 2009). However, younger material from Mare aux Songes might still yield dodo DNA. Amino acid analysis was also conducted (see Rijsdijk et al. [2009] for further details). Collagen-like amino acid profiles were well preserved, and served to give “a sound phylogenetic grouping of the dodo polypeptide sequence within the Aves class” (Rijsdijk et al. 2009, 19). Dodo Finds Initially specimens were removed without regard to their context, but were subsequently excavated with more care. In 2005 a dodo rostrum was found by Els Jentink. Other finds made in 2005 included dodo ribs and femora (Groëme 2005). In all, 14 dodo bones were retrieved (Hanneke Meijer, pers. comm., November 18, 2010). Julian Hume also discovered two fused dodo cervical vertebrae among the bones found by Rijsdijk, Bunnik, and Floore in 2005 (Naturalis blog 2006). In 2006 a mandibular symphysis with the distal part of the left ramus and an articulated dodo hindlimb were found (see note 86). Skull elements, a rostrum, vertebrae, sternum, humerus, wing bones, pelvis, femora (of various sizes) and pedal phalanges were also discovered. By 2007, 150 dodo bones had been found (Naturalis blog 2007; Anon. 2007b), including a mandible in three parts. Francien Dieleman extracted dodo pedal unguals from sieved material. At the living accommodation was a poster of a dodo skeleton: “the bones that had been found that day were shaded in with a red pencil” (Parker 2007, 71). During the 2008 season 54 dodo bones were discovered in two weeks, including vertebrae, wing elements, sternal fragments, pedal phalanges (relatively common), and unguals (Naturalis blog 2007; Noorderlicht blog). Perry de Louw found a dodo ungual during sieving on October 27, 2008, and in July 2009 a dodo pelvis was found in situ, indicating that the bird had died in Mare aux Songes and was not washed in from uplands. This 260

The Dodo and the Solitaire

5.55.  Right tibiotarsus of Raphus from the DRP excavations at Mare aux Songes.

pelvis was extracted by Hanneke Meijer. For approximately every 10 tortoise bones there was 1 dodo bone found (Hanneke Meijer [Naturalis blog 2008]). Reports of the discovery of juvenile dodo remains are unfounded (Hanneke Meijer, pers. comm., January 22, 2009), and so far the excavations have not yielded “any extraordinary, unprecedented dodo specimen that would have made frontpage news or significantly expanded dodo knowledge” (Parker 2007, 72). The dodo bones were initially housed by Foo Kune in a safe at MTMD and, as of this writing, are still there (Hanneke Meijer, pers. comm., December 29, 2009). Some dodo bones, found in June 2006, were later sent to Naturalis for an exhibition that opened on May 11, 2007 (and opened to the public on May 12), coincident with the 4th Dodo Research Programme– Treub Maatschappij seminar, held on May 11. These included the rostrum, vertebrae, pelvic elements, leg bones, and pedal phalanges (Naturalis blog). Dodo bones, on loan from MTMD, and including a radius, femur, and Els Jentink’s rostrum, were exhibited at the Natural History Museum, Port Louis, on May 18, 2006. On March 14, 2008 a permanent exhibition gallery, “The World of the Dodo,” was opened at the Natural History Museum, Port Louis. Included were some of the recently found dodo bones, along with the museum’s dodo skeletons (Jauffret-Rezannah 2008). Recently, Lorna Steel has examined the histology of the femur and tibiotarsus from thin sections made by Tony Wighton of the NHM from specimens collected in June 2006 (Milner 2006; Steel 2006) – histological analysis was not possible, due to severe bioerosion, for Mare aux Songes specimens collected in the nineteenth century. A total of 276 dodo bones were recovered from the 2005–2009 excavations, which are enumerated in Table 5.1. These included examples of skull elements, mandible, vertebrae (including the two fused pathologic mid-cervical vertebrae), ribs, scapula, coracoid, sternum, humerus, radius, carpometacarpus, pelvis, femur, tibiotarsus, fibula, tarsometatarsus, and pedal phalanges (including unguals).86 Smaller elements, such as pedal phalanges, were much rarer than the larger limb bones (Hanneke Meijer, pers. comm., January 22, 2009). (For further information, see Naturalis blog; Noorderlicht blog.) Anatomical Evidences

Table 5.1 Year 2005

Number of dodo bones found 14

2006

47

2007–2008

196

2009

17

No data

2

(Hanneke Meijer, pers. comm., November 2010). 261

The Kanaka Dodo Find, 2007

5.56.  Two views of the Kanaka Cave dodo specimen in situ.

Another dodo specimen was found by two cave biologists from Hawai‘i, Fred Stone and Deborah Ward, near Bois Chéri (Cheke and Hume 2008). The remains were found in Kanaka Bamboo Cave (K1), a lava tube cave under a bamboo grove near the Kanaka Crater at c. 450 m altitude (Cheke and Hume 2008). The specimen was nicknamed Fred, after the 65-year-old caver. The bones were poorly preserved, much disintegrated and fragile; many of them had deteriorated into “mush” and few bones were complete (Middleton 2008; see fig. 5.56). However, the pectoral elements and vertebrae were fairly well preserved. The skeleton was approximately 60% intact (Julian Hume, pers. comm., January 29 2008, February 8, 2008), but lacked the skull, sternum and pelvis (Masson 2007; Naturalis blog 2007). The bones belong to a single individual, in situ (“in its position of death” [Cheke and Hume 2008, 399]). The remains were found in a large interstice of the damp cave, the floor of which was completely covered with angular boulders from roof collapse (Greg Middleton, pers. comm., June 19, 2009). The specimen included vertebrae (including the 14th), right ulna (broken in two), proximal end of radius, left femur, right femur (fragmentary), left and right tibiotarsi lacking proximal ends, left tarsometatarsus (in proximal and distal portions with some of the shaft and trochlea II missing), fibula, right tarsometatarsus (in proximal and distal portions), all the pedal phalanges (including unguals) of digits II–IV of the left pes (although some damaged and broken), proximal pedal phalanx of left digit I, plus numerous bone fragments. On September 20, 2006, Greg Middleton took Stone and Ward to the cave. The following is Stone’s own account of the discovery: My partner, Deborah Ward, and I joined Greg [Middleton, a Tasmanian caver] and Owen Griffiths in Mauritius in Sept. 2006 to participate in an expedition to Madagascar. . . . earlier in 2006, Debbie and I had helped find and recover bones of the large flightless goose of Hawai‘i – so we were both experienced in recognizing bird bones. . . . on the 20th [September 2006], Greg took us to a cave near Bois Cherie [sic] called Kanaka Bamboo Cave. It had a deep entrance over large rocks and garbage that had been dumped in several years ago. While I looked under rocks for cave insects, Debbie crawled down a narrow vertical slot to look for good cave insect habitat. About 4 m. down [“perhaps 4 m below the general level of the rubble floor” (Middleton 2008, 286)], the passage opened 262

The Dodo and the Solitaire

up into a small room, and Debbie called up that she had found some bones [that she thought appeared “old and light-weight – perhaps they were bird bones” (Middleton 2008, 286)]. Greg thought they were probably goat bones, which are common in Mauritian cave entrances. I soon joined Debbie, and realized that the bones were large bird bones, with a hollow center in the leg bones and a triple “knuckle.” We took pictures for identification. The hoped-for cave cockroaches didn’t materialize, so we left. The next day, I checked some of Owen’s books, and confirmed (to my satisfaction) that the bones belonged to a dodo. We were leaving for Mada[gascar] in a few days, and Owen was busy arranging the expedition. When we showed him the photos, he agreed to send them to a paleontologist at the British Natural History Museum (Dr. Julian Hume), but he didn’t have time to do so until we returned from Mada[gascar] in October. On Oct. 15, Julian e-mailed back, and was extremely excited to confirm that the bones did belong to a dodo, and “only the second associated skeleton, and the first with a context.” Due to the highly sensitive nature of the find, we all decided to keep it quiet until the bones could be recovered. They were extremely soft and delicate, so any disturbance would have crushed them. We showed Owen the site on Oct 21 so he could take Julian there for the recovery. Debbie and I were planning a stop-over in London where I was checking the cockroach collection at the Natural History Museum for the particular ones I study, so we met Julian and discussed with him the nature of the dodo bones and the need for special attention when he recovered them. Dr. Hume was able to go to Mauritius in June, 2007, and successfully recover the bones, as he has recounted in his news releases. (Fred Stone, pers. comm., February 14, 2008)

Later that evening they met with Owen Griffiths, who offered to send the photographs to Julian Hume, which he did on October 6. On October 15 Griffiths received a reply from Hume confirming the dodo identification. The discovery was kept secret until the remains could be properly extracted (Middleton 2008). On October 21 Middleton, Stone, and Ward took Griffiths to see the remains and Middleton took some photographs (Middleton 2008, photos 9, 10). One of Stone’s original digital photographs was captioned “Dodo – Fred” by Ward (i.e., a photograph taken by Fred Stone), which led to Hume unofficially naming the find “Dodo Fred” (Greg Middleton, pers. comm., June 19, 2009). Hume later showed the photograph to a reporter and the name stuck (Fred Stone, pers. comm., December 20, 2007). Hume visited the cave on June 28, 2007, and examined the specimen: “Only one person [on Mauritius at the time] knew where it was so a 5am trip to an awkward, dangerous cave passage proved most rewarding” (Julian Hume, pers. comm., January 29, 2008). After confirming that the remains were indeed those of a dodo, Hume contacted Anwar Janoo, of the National Heritage Fund, to help with their extraction. The location of the site was kept secret until Friday, June 29, 2007, and the cave was guarded by four men every night until the specimen was recovered. On June 29, Hume, assisted by Lorna Steel from the NHM, and in the presence of the popular media, extracted the remains. Steel had visited Mauritius to assist Hume and Janoo with the removal and conservation of the specimen (Julian Hume, pers. comm., January 29, 2008), which was taken to the Mauritius Institute and exhibited (Middleton 2008). The location and arrangment of the remains were recorded by drawings and photographs (by Steel), prior to its removal. Paraloid was applied to the bones to Anatomical Evidences

263

consolidate them and they were packed in customized supports and taken to the local museum. The specimen was deposited in the Mauritius Institute on July 2 (Masson 2007; Middleton 2008). It was thought that the dodo sought shelter from a cyclone, fell down a deep hole, and was unable to extricate itself: “Trapped in a cave and too weak to move, Dodo Fred died and his body collapsed into a small crevice, leaving part of the bill and one foot on the surface” (Cheke and Hume 2008, 399). Due to the stable cave temperature and slightly humid conditions, it initially was thought that the remains might yield dodo DNA, but this is unlikely to be successful (Beth Shapiro, pers. comm., February 28, 2008) and the bones seemingly lack collagen (Lorna Steel, pers. comm. to Greg Middleton, January 25, 2008, [see Middleton 2008]). The bones are shown in situ in Grihault (2007, 59), Cheke and Hume (2008, 399) and Middleton (2008, photos 9, 10). On a visit by members of the DRP in July 2007, Hume also found a pelvis of Mascarenotus sauzieri within a meter of the site of the dodo bones. (For further details, see chapter 6.)

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Plate 1.  Van Ravesteyn’s painting.

Plate 2.  Top: Savery-Christie’s. Bottom: Savery-Dahlem.

Plate 3.  Top: Savery-Reims. Bottom: Savery-ZSL.

Plate 4. Savery-Berlin.

Plate 5. Savery-Mauritshuis.

Plate 6.  Top left: George Edwards’s dodo (1758–1764, pl. 294). Bottom left: hand-colored engraving of a dodo: London Pub. by Rich.d Evan, Whites Row Spitalfields, 1815 (plate 5, fig.4). Right: Savery-BM.

Plate 7.  Mansu¯r’s painting.

Plate 8. Savery-Pommersfelden.

Plate 9.  Top: De-HondecoeterNorthumberland. Bottom: Saftleven’s picture.

Plate 10.  Top: Savery-Vienna. Bottom: De-Hondecoeter-Müllenmeister.

Plate 11. Savery-OUM.

Plate 12.  Top: Holsteyn-NHM. Bottom: Holsteyn-Van-der-Feltz.

Plate 13.  Top: Holsteyn-Teylers. Bottom: Withoos-NHM.

Plate 14. Left: Walther’s picture (Albertina Collecton, Graphische Sammlung, Vienna). Right: Van-Kessel-Prado.

Plate 15. Left: Christie’s-Dronte. Right: Charles Collins’s painting.

Plate 16.  Plates from Shaw and Nodder (1792–94). Top: BM foot, depicted in reverse (pl. 143: “London. Published June 1.st 1793 by F. P. Nodder & CoNo. 15 Brewer Street”). Bottom: OUM head (pl. 166: “London, Published Feb.ry 1.st 1794, by F. P. Nodder & Co N.o 15. Brewer Street.”).

Plate 17.  Colored lithograph of the head of the dodo from Blainville (Lith de Engelmann rue du P y. Montmartre No.9 [1835, pl. 1]): “This figure was drawn and colored by Mr. Prêtre, according to a copy carefully taken by me from the portrait painted with oil and extremely well preserved, that is in the collection of the British Museum.” Prêtre was Blainville’s “usual draughtman” (35).

Plate 18.  Strickland and Melville (1848, frontispiece; “Vincent Brooks Lith”).

Plate 19.  Hand-colored lithograph by James Erxleben from Owen and Broderip (1866, pl. i): an imaginary scene on Mauritius with three dodos (after Savery-Vienna, Savery-ZSL, and SaveryBerlin; “M & N Hanhart imp”; “J Erxleben lith”).

Plate 20.  Colored lithograph reproducing Withoos-NHM, in reverse, in Newton (1869, pl. 62 [“J. Smit. lith.”; “M & N Hanhart imp”]).

Plate 21.  Florence Codex dodos (Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence).

The Natural History of the Dodo and the Solitaire

Comments are given on the morphology of Raphus, with comments on Pezophaps added. Comparisons are made with closely related taxa: the crowned pigeons (Goura), the Nicobar pigeon (Caloenas) and the toothbilled pigeon (Didunculus).

6 Description

General Appearance Raphus. Dodos were described as being “like penguins” by the first Dutch eyewitnesses (e.g., Cornelisz 1598). They were said to be “very fat” (Van Heemskerk 1598; Van West-Zanen 1648) and “well fed” (Van West-Zanen 1648). Bontekoe (1646) remarked that they were so fat they could hardly go, and that when they walked their rump almost touched the ground. In contrast, L’Estrange (c. 1638) described the dodo as “so legged and footed” as a male turkey, “but stouter and thicker.” A similarity with the ostrich was also noted (Herbert 1638; Bontius 1658), and Almeida (1616) described the dodo as a “very young ostrich.” The dodo was described as having “the body of an ostrich” (Van Heemskerk 1598), with a round and fat body (Herbert 1634), and a round rump (Anon. 1601a; Clusius 1605; Van West-Zanen 1648). The “posterior part of the body was very fat” (Clusius 1605), and the bird was described as “well fed” (Van West-Zanen 1648). The bulge of the large crop is distinct (Gelderland sketches; Mansu¯r) and some illustrations show a “saddle” or bulge over the shoulder region (Gelderland sketches; Mansu¯r). Stresemann (1958) noted a similarity between the large abdomen of the dodo and that of the domestic Toulouse goose. Raphus and Pezophaps were sometimes compared to the turkey (Meleagris gallopavo; “coq d’Inde” [Belon 1555]), a bird familiar to many writers of the time. Hume (2006) suggested that there might have been albinistic (as in Savery-Dahlem; see chapter 3) and possibly melanistic (as in Gosling’s specimen; see chapter 5) dodos. This is uncertain: the coloration of the former was probably due to artistic license and that of the latter due to its preservation. However, there was probably some variation in color. It will be seen that there are many differences between descriptions and between those and the illustrations. As regards the illustrations, this may be due to individual, sexual, seasonal, or ontogenetic variation, to inaccuracy, or to the nature of the model (i.e., preserved specimen vs. live bird). The osteology exhibits much variation, and it may be assumed that the external features were similarly variable. Indeed, the great sexual dimorphism observed in the osteology of the solitaire was apparently matched in its plumage color (see below). Pezophaps is known to have shown variation in

Those who have tried to draw definitive conclusions concerning dodo anatomy (and many have!) from such pictures, have faced no end of difficulty, for we really know very little concerning the circumstances under which these paintings were made, nor the intentions of the artists. Fuller 2000, 200

6.1.  Skeleton of Raphus. 265

plumage color (cf. Aphanapteryx bonasia, varying from yellowish to reddishbrown). It is therefore probable that Raphus also displayed variation; perhaps some individuals were grayer and others browner. A potentially small gene pool (related to small founding population and restricted habitat space due to being on an island) and rapid evolution might have contributed to such variation. Pezophaps. The females had two rises on the breast, whiter than the rest of the plumage (Leguat 1708). These “risings” might have “contained parts of the crop in which the lining was folded or otherwise increased in area. If that is true, they may have been the precursors of glands – in which case, Leguat’s likening them to the beautiful bosom of a woman was more appropriate than he imagined” (Storer 2005, 1003). Storer thought that Leguat’s report that these risings were only found in the female was probably correct, due to the large degree of sexual dimorphism in Pezophaps. Gennes de la Chancelière (1735) reported that some specimens of Pezophaps had an inch (27 mm) of fat on the body. The tarsometatarsus is more slender and longer in Pezophaps than in Raphus, suggesting to Strickland that the former was “a taller bird, but of lighter build and more active movements” (1853, 195). Size Raphus. Raphus was described as being “as much as two times as large as penguins” (Cornelisz 1598); “as large as a goose” (Van Heemskerk 1598); “the size of a goose, larger than a swan” (Van Heemskerk 1598); “as large as lambs” (Grimmaert 1598); “as large as our swans” (Anon. 1601a); they “equaled a swan in size or exceeded it” (Clusius 1605), or were “larger than an ordinary turkey” (Almeida 1616); “twice as big as a Goose” (Mundy 1633/34); “as bigge bodied as great Turkeyes” (Mundy 1638); “somewhat bigger than the largest Turky Cock” (L’Estrange c. 1638); “larger than geese” (Evertsz 1662). The descriptions mentioning the size as being twice as big as a swan are from the preliminary reports of 1600 and 1601 and are probably inaccurate (see chapter 1). It was also noted that three or four, or sometimes even two, dodos were sufficient to feed a ship’s crew (Van West-Zanen 1648). The dodo depicted in Savery-BM, supposed to be life-size, is about 30 inches (76.2 cm) tall, with a head nine inches (22.86 cm) long (Edwards 1758–64). This is slightly larger than the dimensions estimated from the largest known skeletal remains. Kitchener (1993a) noted that in captivity pink pigeons do not undergo a seasonal fat cycle and that there was little knowledge of animal husbandry in the seventeenth century. He suggested that pictures of “fat” dodos were made from captive birds. The idea that the “fat” dodos depicted by Savery and others were modeled on captive birds that had been fed an “unrestricted diet” (Kitchener 1993a, 280), and had been transported in cramped crates and fed on ship’s biscuit containing weevils, is not tenable. More likely, such portraits of “fat” dodos were based on stuffed specimens (see chapter 5). Illustrations of Raphus made on Mauritius, or derived from those which had been (e.g., Van Neck, Herbert), generally show thinner birds than those made from European sources.

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Measurements Height (in easy standing position): Raphus: 65.8 cm (average “male”) to 62.6 cm (average “female”) Pezophaps: male, 75.7 cm; female, 63.8 cm (see fig. 6.2)

6.2. Comparative sizes, from left to right: Goura, Raphus, Pezophaps (female), Pezophaps (male). Scale in cm.

Pezophaps. Valleau (1692) described Pezophaps as being larger than a turkey. Gennes de la Chancelière (1735) stated that it was “bigger by a third than the largest turkey” to “as big as the largest ostrich” and d’Heguerty (1754) said that it was larger than a swan. Storer suggested that the maximum size of columbids may be limited by the amount of crop milk able to be produced by the parents “to carry the young through the crucial early stages of their growth” (2005, 1003) – the increase in body size (a cubic function) being greater than the increase in crop lining area (a square function). M ass Raphus. Herbert stated, “few weigh lesse then fifty pound [22.68 kg],” (1634). Kitchener (1993a) thought that this probably related to a captive bird, but that it also could have been a maximum mass or an exaggeration. There have been several attempts to calculate the mass of the dodo. Campbell and Marcus (1992) used the equation W = -0.065Cf 2.411 W = body mass (g), Cf = circumference of femur (mm) to calculate the mass of the dodo, obtaining a body mass of 13.2–16.5 kg (n = 3, mean = 14.3). Using mean measurements of dodo bones (from NHM, UMZC, and OUM collections), Andrew Kitchener (1993b) constructed a one-fifth-scale wire-and-cardboard skeleton to which plasticine non-osseous tissues were added. This resulting dodo had a “thin” body form. A volume displacement experiment was then conducted with 5.6% mass added on for the feathers. Employing the equation Mass (kg) = Archimedean displacement volume × 125 × bird density

The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

267

and a bird body density of 0.73–0.937g cm-3 yielded a dodo body mass of 12.5–16.1 kg (the lower value was based on the density of birds for which the air sacs may have been overinflated: Kitchener 1993a). Plasticine was added in places where birds put on fat (around the clavicle, along the neck, on the breast, behind the wing, front of the leg, and on the back) and the body mass of the “fat” dodo was calculated as being 21.7–27.8 kg (cf. Herbert 1634). Using the measured mass of a dodo skeleton of 914 g gave a body mass of 11.8 kg (referring to Prange et al. 1979). However, some bones were missing and some were incomplete and probably dehydrated (Kitchener 1993a). Using columbid leg bone measurements and the equation loge body mass (g) = slope.loge (leg bone measurement [mm]) + intercept Kitchener obtained the following results: Table 6.1

Femur Tibiotarsus Tarsometatarsus

n

Slope

Intercept

r

Predicted body mass (kg)

length

29

3.004

-5.347

0.982

17.5

diameter

29

2.475

2.750

0.970

17.2

length

32

2.847

-5.704

0.972

15.4

diameter

32

2.348

3.144

0.966

12.8

length

26

2.568

-3.156

0.926

10.6

diameter

26

2.650

2.999

0.940

17.2

n = number of columbid species included, r = correlation coefficient (after Kitchener 1993a). Mean diameter of bones calculated from sagittal and transverse diameters.

Reduced major axes also were recalculated using the body mass estimates derived from the scale models and the mean length of tibiotarsus (222.6 mm). Kitchener found that there was “no significant difference (P>0.05) between the slopes of any of the scaling relationships” (1993a, 289) and no significant difference between any of the body masses derived from them. He did find, however, that the body mass estimates of the “fat” dodo were poor predictors of body mass compared with those from the “thin” dodo. Using the equation log(body mass [g]) = 2.54.log (minimum tibiotarsus shaft circumference [mm]) - 0.10996 (r = 0.986), from Anderson et al. (1979), Kitchener obtained a body mass of 13.7 kg.1 Calculation of body mass from eggshell mass, using the mass of the eggshell of Pelecanus onocrotalus (see below) and columbid eggshell mass data, gave 13.7 kg (n = 18, slope = 1.212, intercept = 5.780, r = 0.986). Thus, Kitchener estimated the mass of the dodo to be 10.6–17.5 kg. Comparing this with Thomas Herbert’s (1634) value of 50 lbs. (22.68 kg), he concluded that Herbert’s value was either an exaggeration, an estimate of the heaviest individuals, or, more likely, the mass of a captive bird. An

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exaggeration, due to the faults of eyewitness observation, is the most probable explanation. Livezey (1993), meanwhile, calculated the mean “lean” body mass for Raphus and Pezophaps from mean femur lengths, using this equation:2 Mass = -3.9726 + 2.6119 (femur length). The results obtained were considered to be low, due to a combination of Raphus’s and Pezophaps’s having been flightless and to assumed seasonal mass changes: Table 6.2 Volant model (kg)

Adjusted for flightlessness or fat condition (+50%) (kg)

Adjusted for flightlessness and fat condition (+100%) (kg)

Raphus ♂

10.6

15.9

Raphus ♀

8.6

12.9

17.2

Pezophaps ♂

13.9

20.9

27.8

Pezophaps ♀

8.7

13.1

17.4

21.2

Using lengths and mean diameters of longest and shortest bones (pers. data; see “The Dodologist’s Miscellany”) and Kitchener’s equation (see above) gives the following: Table 6.3 Largest male (kg) Femur Tibiotarsus Tarsometatarsus

Smallest female (kg)

length

20.32

12.91

diameter

17.88

14.95

length

20.64

10.43

diameter

17.35

10.92

length

13.95

8.18

diameter

15.85

11.96

In conclusion, Herbert’s 50 lbs. was probably on the large side; Raphus probably weighed c. 8–20 kg. Pezophaps. Pezophaps weighed approximately 40 to 50 livres (19.58– 24.47 kg [Tafforet 1726]). Males weighed up to up to 45 livres (22.03 kg [Leguat 1708, French edition]). Bartlett (1851) thought that his “Didus nazarenus” (based on the male solitaire) was probably twice the weight of the dodo, that is, 100 lbs. (45.36 kg). In contrast, Newton and Newton considered Pezophaps a “somewhat less heavy bird than the Dodo” (1869, 354). Using Kitchener’s equation and Livezey’s (1993) data gives the following: Table 6.4 Mean length male, female (mm)

Average male (kg)

Average female (kg)

Femur

176.5, 147.7

26.73

15.65

Tibiotarsus

262.5, 220.4

25.71

15.63

Tarsometatarsus

183.0, 144.0

27.50

14.86

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6.3.  Reconstruction of the dodo: front and back views.

Stance and Bearing Raphus. Dodos were described as “stijf” (upright, stiff [Anon. 1601a]): “they went upright on their feet as though they were a human” (Cornelisz 1598), and were “of a more erect shape” than a turkey (L’Estrange c. 1638). This is confirmed by the Gelderland sketches and Mansu¯r’s image. The low cantilever strength of the femur suggests that it was held in a more vertical position than in other birds (Kitchener 1993a, 1993b). This would have extended its leg length and lowered the bending forces acting on it (Kitchener 1993b). Kitchener (1993b) suggested that the dodo might have evolved with a more vertically held femur due to the very conservative columbid bauplan, or that the underdeveloped flight musculature caused a shift in its center of gravity.

6.4.  Skeleton of the dodo in dorsal view, minus skull (NHMUK A729). 270

The Dodo and the Solitaire

The image of the grossly fat dodo, with its belly almost dragging along the ground (cf. Bontekoe’s description) is probably inaccurate and based on overstuffed specimens. Hume (2006) regarded the posture of the Savery-Vienna dodo to be an indication of a reduction of the pectoral apparatus and hypertrophy of the pelvic apparatus, especially the tarsi, giving a kiwi-like appearance with a “snake-like” neck. However, the sternum of the dodo possesses a keel, albeit small (contra Hume 2006), and the reduction of the pectoral apparatus was not as great as in the kiwi. Moreover, the Savery-Vienna bird was most probably modeled, at least in part, on a stuffed specimen. Pezophaps. Leguat noted, “they are taller than Turkeys” and that their neck was straight and slightly proportionately longer than that of a turkey. They walked “with such an amount of pride & good grace” (1708; cf. Tafforet 1726).

6.5.  Skull and neck of Pezophaps.

Plumage General: Raphus. The plumage of Raphus was described as “little feathers over the body” (Van Heemskerk 1598), “small gray feathers” (Matelief 1646), or “soft gray plumes” (Bontius 1658). Some described the plumage as down (Mundy 1638; Cauche 1651); the “finest Downe, such as you see in Goslins” (Herbert 1638). Livezey suggested that the dodo had a “dark ‘hood’” of pennaceous feathers, but that its remaining plumage, excluding remiges and rectrices, was downy. He added that the plumage was “characterized by extreme structural apomorphy in which the integrity of vanes of contour feathers was severely compromised or obsolete” (1993, 365). However, the contour feathers were not down in a narrow sense, but pennaceous (cf. Fuller 2002). Savery-Berlin, Savery-BM, and Savery-OUM show contour feathers with rounded margins on the crop region and abdomen. Lüttschwager (1961) thought that the “down” described by eyewitnesses was from young or molted birds – an unverifiable hypothesis. Staub (2000) thought that Raphus had downy plumage, having been sheltered from the trade winds in the southern valleys and western regions, whereas Pezophaps had feathery plumage, living as it had on an exposed island. This, of course, is unlikely: dodos were found all over Mauritius, and the dodo’s plumage – at least that of the head – was also pennaceous, and not down (Brom and Prins 1989). The feather morphology is different in Raphus, for the head and neck at least, compared to volant columbids (see below). Janoo (see Lucas 2007) suggested that the feathers of the dodo would have probably been short and stiff, like those of flightless rails. This may have been the case for the head and neck, but the body was probably covered in softer feathers (as seen in Savery-BM, Savery-OUM). Pezophaps. Tafforet (1726) described the plumage of Pezophaps as “neither feather, nor hair” (Tafforet 1726); and Gennes de la Chancelière (1735) stated that there was down on the head and neck, at least in young birds. Head Raphus. The head was feathered with “downy” dark brown blackish feathers (Herbert 1638; Mansu¯r; Savery-BM; Savery-Mauritshuis; Savery-Berlin). The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

271

6.6.  OUM 11605 showing the arrangement of feathers on the scalp.

These were arranged in groups of three, in an “arrow” configuration (OUM 11605; fig. 6.6). Of these the middle one is usually the longest. These triads were found on the occiput, crown, sides of the head and underside of the mandible. This arrangement in Raphus, at least of the head feathers, into groups of three, is autapomorphic (contra Moseley 1885; no feather remains are known for Pezophaps). Grouping of head feathers is also apparent in Savery-OUM. Perhaps in display subcutaneous muscles of the feathers were contracted causing the feathers spread out. The feathers of the crown and occipital region were long (OUM 11605: fig. 5.25; Van-Ravesteyn; Savery-Crocker; though their loose and separate appearance might be due to the preserved nature of the models). Those of the Clift sketch of the Tradescant head are up to c. 24 mm and those of Savery-Crocker (right) are up to c. 55 mm. J. E. Gray, on a sketch of the Tradescant dodo head made c. 1824, described the feathers of the head as “hairs ending in two or three heads.” 272

The Dodo and the Solitaire

6.7.  Head feathers of OUM 11605 (after Brom and Prins 1989; scale in mm in parentheses): a) tip of barb, barbules broken off (0.025); b) vanule remnants on mid barb (0.025); c) apical part of ramus (0.05); d) feather fragments (1); e) basal barbules (0.0125); f) three worn barbs with barbule remnants (0.025); g) tip of probably basal barb (0.05); h) remnants of attachments of barbules to ramus (0.0125).

The head feathers were black-brown and very stiff, at least as determined from the Tradescant specimen in its present state. They are of the reduced pennaceous type, with proximal and distal barbules similar (Brom and Prins 1989). From light and electron microscopy studies Brom and Prins described the structure of the head feathers thus: Microscopic examination of the feather fragments revealed rami as well as barbules, but for their greater length the shafts were heavily abraded . . . In both the central and lateral feathers form a group of three, barb remains are found along the entire length of the rachis. Among the vanules that had been left more or less undamaged, distal barbules were attached to the barb at a slightly more dorsal level than the proximal ones. Both rows of barbules were closely set . . . the proximal ones c. 39 per mm barb (range 30–44), the distal ones c. 47 per mm. (range 43–51). The angle of the distal barbules to the barb ranged from 27° to 35°, the proximal angles from 25° to 32°. The length of the barbules varied from 0.16 to 0.30 mm. Their bases were broad, in the proximal barbules tapering over a short distance into a slender pennulum, in the distal barbules gradually tapering into a narrow pennulum. These pennula account for 30 to 80% of the total length of the barbules. Both types of barbules had (remnants of) ventral teeth (9–19μm in length) at the juncture of base and pennulum. The finely striated pennula The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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6.8.  Head feathers of OUM 11605 (after Brom and Prins 1989; scale in mm in parentheses): a) mid barb (0.0125); b) distal ends of worn barbs (0.05); c) pennulum of proximal barbule (0.025); d) distal barbules (0.025); e) undamaged proximal barbule displaying segmentation and striation (0.05); f) damaged proximal barbule (0.025); g) tip of distal barbule (0.025).

. . . varied in length from 0.05–0.09 mm, their unsegmented tip region from 0.03–0.05 mm. The distal type had short cilia at both sides, the proximal type only at its ventral side. The length of these cilia ranged from 5–10μm. Those barbules that have remained intact clearly belong to the pennaceous type, both proximal and distal barbules having been found. (1989, 242)

The lateral feathers of the triads are neither bristles nor filoplumes (contra Anon. 1885), due to the presence of barbules along the whole length of the rachis. There is no evidence of natal down, afterfeathers, terminal filaments, flexules, or lax feather structures (Brom and Prins 1989). Furthermore, thickening of the proximal hooklets on the distal barbules, as found in other Columbiformes, is not apparent. The “barbule remains lie closely next to one another, all barbules are oriented in the same plane, and they are found along the entire length of the barbs” (242). The crown feathers are less closely set in Raphus than in other columbids and rallids, although the stiffness of the head feathers resembles those of columbids more than rallids. The basal barbule morphology and the number of proximal and distal barbules per millimeter of barb are also more similar to columbids than rallids (Brom and Prins 1989). However, Brom

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and Prins noted that their study was based on abraded specimens, from which the position on the feather could not be determined. Hamel (see Brandt 1848a) examined the Tradescant head and concluded that the small black feathers resembled those of the ostrich, without being completely plumaceous. Owen stated, “All traces of the auricular circles of feathers is lost” (1846, 331). Head Face Raphus. The “face” (consituting the frontal, loralic, suborbital, and superciliar regions) is naked. At the rostral margin of the cornonal region is a distinct transverse dark band of skin, the cucullus (OUM 11605; De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland). The cucullus has been described variously as “a skin as if they had a little cap on their head” (Anon. 1601a); “covered as if with a membrane resembling a hood” (Clusius 1605); and “a skin, similar to a monk’s cowl” (Verken 1613). It is also apparent in some illustrations (Mansu¯r; Van den Broecke). In the Gelderland sketch (fol. 64r) the cucullus is composed of two transverse bands. The face was narrow compared to the rest of head, as in other columbids. The head also shows the slight bulge of m. cucullaris capitis (OUM 11605). The caudal margin of the naked face, running ventrally to the ear opening, was marked by a thin, dark line (OUM 11605; Savery-Vienna). A cutaneous ridge extended caudally from the eye (e.g., Mansu¯r; Savery-BM; Savery-OUM). The naked face itself was described by Herbert as “seeming couered with a fine vaile” (1634) or “as if a transparent Lawne had covered it” (1638). The color of the naked skin was whitish (Herbert 1634) to gray (Savery-BM; De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland) or gray-greenish (SaveryBerlin) to dark and medium brown (Mansu¯r). In Goura the orbital skin is dark gray. The naked mandibular skin was paler than that of the face and was pale gray to gray-brown (Savery-Berlin; Savery-Reims), or pale brown (Mansu¯r). There was a pale blue area caudal to the mandibular rhamphotheca (Man­ su¯r; Savery-BM). Clusius (1605) also mentioned a bluish spot, stating that it was between the yellow (presumably the rhamphotheca) and black regions on the mandible. Recent analysis has confirmed the bluish tint of the skin of the Oxford head skin. Under transmission electron microscope, sections of the skin display a “randomly arranged, fine-particulate structure,” with the particles being “around the size of the wavelength of blue light (the skin is extremely fragile and the particles quickly separate from the structure, forming a powder). Tyndall scattering probably causes the blue colour” (Parker 2005, 13–14). Rhamphotheca: Raphus. The rhamphothecae were thin. The maxillary rhamphotheca was yellowish horn-colored (OUM 11605; Savery-Berlin) or pale brown-yellowish (Mansu¯r) to perhaps chestnut brown (Savery-BM) with a blackish tip (Clusius 1605; Mansu¯r). However, a yellowish coloration may be in part due to oils discoloring the rhamphotheca in stuffed specimens (pers. obs.). Some specimens displayed a brown-black transverse band (Savery-Berlin) or bands (Mansu¯r; Savery-OUM; De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland).

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The maxillary rhamphotheca had a long hook (Gelderland sketches; Mansu¯r; Herbert). Herbert described the color of the bill as “light greene, mixt with a pale yellow” (1634). Gill and West (2001) suggested that the green “spot” might have guided the juveniles to peck at the adult’s beak to induce it to disgorge food; this is unlikely. The mandibular rhamphotheca was black (Mansu¯r; Savery-BM; SaveryMauritshuis; Savery-Reims; De-Hondecoeter-Müllenmeister; Savery-OUM). Beak shape varied, as can be seen from differences between subfossil specimens (cf. OUM 11605 and MNHN MAD 6530). These differences are reflected in the contemporary images (cf. fig. 3.1). It has been suggested (e.g., Oudemans 1917b; Renshaw 1931; Hachi­ suka 1953; Livezey 1993; Staub 1993; Gill and West 2001) that both sexes of the dodo molted the rhamphothecae seasonally or annually. It was further suggested that transverse ridges or rugosities developed as the maxillary rhamphotheca was shed. Oudemans (1917b) thought that the number of rhamphothecal ridges was not related to age or sex, but to beak length. He considered the oldest ridge to be the proximalmost, with the rhamphotheca moving forward each time a new one was added. Oudemans (1918a) thought that young birds lacked ridges, and the older the bird, the more the ridges were present. Following this, Hachisuka (1953) stated that the number of ridges depended upon the age of the bird, although they did not grow regularly, with most distal being the oldest. Valledor de Lozoya (2002a) continued the error that the rhamphothecal ridges were related to the age or the sex of the bird, and they were considered by Dissanayake (2004) to be perhaps due to individual or sexual variation. Despite this, these ridges are almost certainly due to the drying out of a preserved specimen (see chapter 5); they are not seen in Mansu¯r’s image or the Gelderland sketches. The function of the large bill with its long hook is not known, but it may have been used in display or male-male confrontations. Contrary to previous assertions, such a long bill would not have been able to deliver a significantly proportionately more powerful bite compared with confamilials.3 As indicated by cranial kinetics, the further the distance from the pivot, the less force is delivered. For a stronger bite a short bill, such as that found in Treron and Didunculus, would have been more effective. Moreover, the jaw muscles were not overly developed for such a long bill (the large muscle attachments on the cranium appear to have been for cucullus, rather than mandibular, muscles). The rhamphothecae were also limited to the distal part of the beak, so that they were lacking at the proximal part, where the bite forces would be strongest. The large bill, the naked face, the greater development of the forehead region (enlarged by expansion of the cranial diploë), the head feathers set in triads, and the well-developed cucullus muscles suggest that display was the primary function of these features. The suggestion by Schlegel (1854a) that the pointed rhamphotheca of Savery-BM might have become overgrown in captivity is almost certainly wrong, as the wild Gelderland dodos have similarly long terminal hooks.

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Table 6.5. Number of maxillary rhamphothecal ridges postulated by Oudemans (1917b) and Hachisuka (1953) Oudemans (1917b)

Hachisuka (1953)

None

Savery-Berlin, SaveryPommersfelden, Savery-ZSL

Savery-Berlin, SaveryPommersfelden, Savery-ZSL

One

Vere, Florence, SaveryVienna, Van-der-Venne, De-Hondecoeter-Stumpf

Savery-Vienna, Van-der-Venne, De-Hondecoeter-Stumpf

Two

Savery-Mauritshuis (or 21/2), Nieuhof

Savery-Mauritshuis (or 21/2), Nieuhof, Charles-Collins

Three

Savery-BM (21/2?), Bontius

Savery-BM (or 21/2), Bontius

Four

Ruthart

Ruthart

Pezophaps. The beak of Pezophaps was like that of a turkey, but more hooked (Leguat 1708). The rhamphotheca was short, almost an inch (27 mm) long, with a sharp tomium (Tafforet 1726). Nostril Raphus. The nostril was sub-oval (OUM 11605; Mansu¯r) and vertical (Man­ su¯r). Mansu¯r shows it as pale blue. The nasal operculum was a long tube (OUM 11605). The nostril was placed rostrally on the lower part of the beak (cf. Treron), a columbid feature. This distal positioning may have aided the bird in detecting food (fallen fruit, nuts, etc.) on the forest floor. Mouth Raphus. The rictus can be seen in OUM 11605 and Van-Ravesteyn. A cutaneous ridge or fold extended caudally from the oral commisure to the edge of the naked face (OUM 11605). Van-Ravesteyn shows a reddish coloring to the inside the mouth (cf. Savery-OUM), although this may have been painted. Tongue Raphus. Cauche (1651) stated, “they are without tongues.” This erroneous concept of the dodo lacking a tongue was probably borrowed from the literature on the cassowary (e.g., Aldrovandi 1603). It was said that the cassowary swallowed anything offered to it (even live coals); therefore, perhaps a tongue would have hindered this or not have been necessary. Raphus swallowed stones and this might have contributed to the confusion. In fact, the tongue was probably narrow and pointed as in other pigeons. Ea r Raphus. The external ear opening was located just caudal to the caudal margin of the naked face (OUM 11605). Ey e Raphus. In the dodo the iris was white (Mansu¯r; Savery-BM); other iris colors (orange, yellow) are probably due to glass eyes present in stuffed specimens. In Goura and Trugon the iris is red, in Didunculus and Microgoura dark brown; in Caloenas it is variably dull brown, dark gray to whitish (Gibbs et al. 2001).

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Pezophaps. The eye of Pezophaps was “black & lively” (Leguat 1708), suggesting a dark iris. The female possessed a frontlet “as a frontlet [bandeau] of widows [English: “Peak like a Widow’s”] at the top of the beak which is of tan [English: “dun”] color” (Leguat 1708). There is uncertainty as to the whether the author is referring to the frontlet or the bill being of tan color (“Elles ont une espece de bandeau comme un bandeau de veuves au haut du bec qui est de couleur tanée”), but on comparison with Tafforet’s account it would appear to refer to the latter:4 Tafforet (1726) noted that Pezophaps had a very large head with a headband or frontlet like black velvet. North-Coombes (1979) noted that use of the word veuve implies a black or dark color and also an element of thickness to the material (crepe). Ottow (1950) suggested that the rugosities at the rostral part of the dorsal cranium might have been connected with Leguat’s bandeau, with the pits being for the attachment of feathers. Oudemans (1917b) considered the frontal band to be composed of colored feathers rather than an excresence such as is seen in Caloenas. It is here considered to have been an excrescence (cf. Caloenas) covered in very short feathers, giving the appearance of velvet. Males might have lacked the frontal band, as suggested by Leguat’s description and the figure on the frontispiece (cf. Hachisuka 1953). However, the frontal rugosity of the cranium would suggest that some kind of excrescence was present. Wing Raphus. The wing consisted of three or four (Anon. 1601a), or at least four or five (Clusius 1605), five or six (Verken 1613), six to seven (Mansu¯r) or six to eight (Savery-OUM, Savery-BM) larger feathers (presumably the primaries), which were black (Anon. 1601a), yellow to whitish yellow (Verken 1613; Savery-Berlin; Savery-BM) or pale gray to pale brown (Mansu¯r). The primaries of Van-Ravesteyn are pale to medium brown with dark brown tips, although this may be due to preservation techniques. The wing itself was described as being “as large as [that of] a dove” (Jolinck 1598) or “the size of [that of] a teal” (Van Heemskerk 1598). This would give a measurement from the carpal joint to the tip of the wing of c. 166–192 mm (cf. Mansu¯r).5 The dodos of Savery and Van-Ravesteyn show relatively larger wings than those of Mansu¯r and the Gelderland sketches. The discrepancies in color of the wing feathers in accounts and paintings may be due to sex, age, or error. The primaries were symmetrical (Clusius; Van-Ravesteyn; SaveryBerlin; Savery-BM; Van-den-Broecke) and possessed interlocking barbules, holding the barbs in place (Van-Ravesteyn; Savery-BM), unlike the filamentous plumes of ostriches. The lesser coverts were dark brown (Mansu¯r) to grayish brown (SaveryBerlin; Savery-BM). The distalmost in Savery-OUM had black tips (cf. Goura). The greater coverts were pale brown (Mansu¯r) or whitish yellow (SaveryBerlin; Savery-BM). Some of these had blackish tips (8 to 10: Savery-BM, Savery-OUM). Mansu¯r shows a blue-gray area on the dorsal surface of the wing, although this may be an artifact. The wing was hanging to some extent (Mundy 1638; Mansu¯r). There are also differences in wing morphology: some illustrations depict a short wing

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(Mansu¯r), whereas others show a longer wing (Savery-Berlin; Savery-BM). This may be actual variation, or due to some other factor, such as accuracy of the depiction or state of the subject. It should be noted that in the contemporary descriptions there is sometimes a differentiation of feather types, for example “pennekens” (small feathers) of the wing and “pluymkens” (small plumes) of the tail (Anon. 1601a). This may be due to different journals being used in the compilation, or to an actual differentiation in the plumage. In the Gelderland and Mansu¯r’s images the wings are pointed and hanging. The remiges overlap slightly, as in volant birds when at rest. This is in contrast with the images of Savery and others, based on a stuffed specimen, in which they do not overlap as much and the wing is not pointed. Den Hengst (2003) suggested that ostrich feathers might have been added to the Amsterdam specimen in order to add to its appearance. However, the earliest eyewitness accounts mention plumes, and Van Heemskerk mentions a “body like an ostrich.” Verken (1613) mentioned yellow feathers; Anon. (1601a) describes wing feathers (pennekens) and tail feathers (pluymkens), and according to Verken (1613) the tail was “4 or 5 feathers standing curled over themselves.” The primaries seem to show evidence of barbules (i.e., the barbs are linked together). These have become “unzipped” towards the edges in Savery-BM, Savery-OUM, etc. (which is not surprising in a preserved specimen). In contrast, the remiges of ostriches and other ratites lack barbules. Furthermore, the wing of the dodo in Savery’s paintings looks natural (with primaries, secondaries, and coverts), and the rump has circumanal feathers and protruding feathers extending from the tail to the circumanal feathers (e.g., Savery-BM; Savery-Crocker). The primaries are also symmetrical (as might be expected for a flightless bird), suggesting that they are not inserted swan or goose feathers. It is here considered that the number of primary remiges in the dodo was 8 to 10. The reasons for this are as follows: ∙ Comparing the wing skeleton with that of paintings of the dodo, such as Savery-BM and Savery-OUM, there is some degree of correspondence. The large yellowish feathers appear to be attached to the carpometacarpus and alar phalanges of digit II. There are also 8 black-tipped yellowish coverts, which are probably the primary coverts. The secondaries also appear to be yellowish. The lesser coverts, median coverts and mantle are gray-brown, with the tips of the median coverts being black in Savery-OUM. The distal extremity of the distal phalanx of digit II must fall within the boundaries of the median coverts, and this allows the position of the wing skeleton within the wing to be approximated. ∙ The carpometacarpus and phalanges are similar in morphology to those in living pigeons, and from this it is here inferred that a similar number of feathers were attached (there are 10 functional primaries in extant pigeons). ∙ The ulna exhibits feather papillae, similar to those of living pigeons. Their spacing suggests that a similar number of secondaries (and, following this, probably primaries) to extant pigeons.

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Livezey (1993) stated that there were five to nine (primary) remiges in Raphus (although he does not refer to them as primary, he states that there are 10 in volant Columbidae, which would indicate that he meant primary feathers). He also noted that the number of rectrices and remiges does not usually decrease in flightless or flight-impaired carinates compared with other members of their order. The ulna of Raphus (Owen 1867, pl. xx, figs. 16, 17) shows six papillae, and the ulna of Pezophaps (Newton and Newton 1869, pl. xx, fig. 134) shows seven. Lüttschwager (1972) stated that the number of coverts was reduced, although this is not undoubtedly ascertainable. Pezophaps. The wings were described as without feathers (Tafforet 1726) or sparsely feathered (Gennes de la Chancelière 1735); they “almost do not have plumes” (d’Heguerty 1754). Five long wing feathers are seen in Leguat’s figure, but this may be inaccurate. In life, the metacarpal knob of Pezophaps was probably covered in thick cornified or callous skin (Lucas 1895; Newton and Gadow 1910; cf. Didunculus), or feathers. This callosity under the feathers was “a little round Mass under the Feathers, as big as a Musket Ball” (Leguat 1708). The presence of dysplastic deformation and bending in some ulnae of Pezophaps (for example Newton and Newton 1869, pl. xx, fig. 135; Ottow 1950, pl. iii, fig. 10, pl. iv, fig. 11) would have probably affected the placement and attachment of the secondary feathers, and may have been visible externally. Legs and Feet Raphus. The dodo was first described as having the “feet of an eagle” (Van Heemskerk 1598). The lower tibia was naked (Gelderland sketches; Mansu¯r; Herbert) and blackish (Van-Ravesteyn; Mansu¯r; Savery-Berlin; Savery-BM; Savery-OUM). Clusius (1605) stated that the tibia was covered in black feathers. The lower tarsus and toes were yellowish (Clusius 1605; Savery-Berlin; Savery-OUM), brownish orange (Savery-BM), reddish yellow (BM foot), pale yellowish brown (Van-Ravesteyn) or pale grayish (Mansu¯r). However, the color may in part be an artifact of preservation (see below). Clusius (1605) described the tarsal scutes as wide and yellowish dorsally and smaller and brownish plantarly. The scutellation of the tarsus in Raphus is reticulate. Birds with large feet with strong musculature often have reticulate tarsi (Sylke Frahnert, pers. comm., March 10, 2009; cf. Goura and Caloenas, to some degree). Regarding the color of the tarsus and toes, colors taken from descriptions and paintings of preserved specimens (e.g., Clusius 1605, Grew 1681, Amsterdam 1626 dodo, Van-Ravesteyn) might not be accurate, as the color might have changed post mortem. Oils can seep from the bones into the tissues (cf. a preserved dried leg from Columba palumbus in pers. collection; pers. obs. from other specimens), making the color more yellowish. Also, drying out of digital pads can cause them to flatten out (pers. obs. from dried bird feet, including C. palumbus), and may perhaps be confused to some extent with webbing. Moreau (see Friedmann 1956) suggested that the pads might have flattened out from walking on hard surfaces, but this is unlikely (pers. obs. of captive large birds). Bory de Saint-Vincent (1824) mistakenly

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stated that the dodo had webbed feet and Dumont (1819) suggested that the webbing of a stuffed specimen might have been destroyed by insects. Digit II was longer than digit IV, as in other terrestrial pigeons. The number of pedal scutes is as follows (BM foot; Van-Ravesteyn; Mansu¯r; Christie’s-Dronte): digit I, 4–5; II, 7–16; III, 10–19; IV, 8–15.6 Illiger characterized the feet as “Tarsotheca squamata? Acrodactyla scutulata” (1811, 245). (See chapter 5 for measurements.) The claws were hooked (Gelderland sketches), sharp (Herbert 1634), and black (Clusius 1605; Savery-BM). Both Goura and Caloenas have yellowish claws. Gmelin (1788, followed by Sonnini 1803) mistakenly stated that the dodo lacked nails, due to a typographical error. Pezophaps. The feet of Pezophaps were described as like those of a turkey (Leguat 1708; Gennes de la Chancelière 1735). In females, the “Feathers on their Thighs are round like shells at the end, and being there very thick, have an agreeable effect” (Leguat 1708). The legs possessed very hard scales (Tafforet 1726). The long legs of Pezophaps suggested that to Newton and Newton that it was “capable of attaining considerable speed” (1869, 354). Strickland suggested that the divergence of the toes was probably greater in Pezophaps than in Raphus, “which would probably enable the former bird to run with a speed never attained by the latter” (1853, 196). If the divergence of the toes was greater in Pezophaps it was not by much (pers. obs.). Tail Raphus. The tail consisted of two or three (Anon. 1601a) to four or five (Anon. 1601a; Clusius 1605; Verken 1613) curled plumes. The variation in the number of feathers in the same account, Anon. (1601a), may suggest variation between individuals, perhaps due to molting. The plumes were grayish (Anon. 1601a; Clusius 1605; Verken 1613), yellowish gray (Savery-Berlin) or yellowish brown (Savery-BM; Savery-OUM). Matelief (1646) described them as “somewhat more raised than the others.” Herbert (1638) described the tail plumage as “like a China beard,” although this may apply to the circumanal feathers, as his illustration does not appear to show the true tail plumes. Cauche (1651) stated that the bird possessed as many tail feathers as it was years old; the origin of this information is unknown and almost certainly erroneous. The tail was stated to have been shed synchronously during the molt (Brom and Prins 1989), although there is little evidence to support this. In some specimens there is a tuft of long fluffy feathers in the region of the anus, or just below it (Savery-Crocker; Savery-Berlin; SaveryMauritshuis; Savery-ZSL; Van-der-Venne; Savery-OUM; Herbert; Van-denBroecke). These “circumanal” and “infra-anal” feathers appear to be at around the level of the distal extremity of the pubes (see figs. 1.24, 3.5, 3.13, 3.20, 3.25). The Gelderland sketches and Van-Ravesteyn show no tail plumes, only the tail stump or tuft. Mansu¯r shows no tail at all, but instead an indentation and a dark mark below the anus, in the region of the distal ends of the pubes. The Gelderland sketch of the dead dodo, however, does show

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an indication of tail feathers (cf. Savery’s depictions). The presence of tail plumes is also suggested by the morphology of the pygostyle, which, in contrast to that of Pezophaps, has a lamina, albeit much reduced. The tail might have been seasonally molted, which would account for the abovementioned differences. With only a few tail feathers present, when the molt occurred there would have been a significant reduction in the tail. Lüttschwager (1959b) suggested that the tail might actually be composed of only the tail coverts, as the rectrices of pigeons are stiff, unlike the tail of Raphus. He later (1972) stated that the tail tuft might have developed from the preen gland feathers. However, the oil gland is not tufted in Caloenas (as in all pigeons possessing one) and is absent in Goura. Oudemans (1917b), followed by Hachisuka (1953) and Brom and Prins (1989), speculated that the tail moved up the back as fat accumulated, pushing up the caudal vertebrae. However, the caudal vertebrae are short and were probably not very mobile. Those in Owen’s reconstruction (1867, pl. xv) are interpolations and are too long and, furthermore, their position is too low for the position of the tail plumes (see fig. 3.8).7 Hachisuka (1953) stated that the pointed “knob-like protuberance” seen in Savery-BM indicates the position of the caudal vertebrae, with the anus immediately beneath. However, this is not the case (see fig. 3.9). Pezophaps. The rump was “Roundish, like the Crupper of a Horse” (Leguat 1708); it had no “proper tail” (Gennes de la Chancelière 1735). Color Raphus. The dodo was said to be “couloured before like the breast of a yong Cock fesan, and on the back of a dunn or deare coulour” (L’Estrange c. 1638). The breast of the male pheasant (Phasianus colchicus colchicus) is a “deep burnished copper” (Witherby et al. 1944, 237), reminiscent of Mansu¯r’s illustration. In contrast, Fröschl (1607–1611) described the Prague specimen as a “whitish dirty color,” similar to the Savery-Kassel bird. The overall color was dark brown to gray (Savery-Berlin; Savery-BM) or brown and gray-brown (Mansu¯r; De-Hondecoeter-Northumberland; Savery-Christie’s). The head was dark brown to blackish (e.g., Mansu¯r), or gray to gray-brown (Savery-Reims; De-Hondecoeter-Müllenmeister; SaveryOUM), or perhaps even pale blue-gray (Savery-Vienna). The crop region, breast, abdomen, and upper tibia were pale gray (Savery-BM). The coloration was usually darker on the head and upper parts. The Savery-Kassel bird is pale gray with a yellowish belly. There appears to be variation in the color of the dodo: whether this was sexual, individual, or ontogenetic is unknown. Some color variation is probably due to artistic license by the artists involved (e.g., Savery). Mention of a “blacke Indian bird” by Crosfield (1634) is probably a reference to a preserved specimen (cf. Van-Ravesteyn). Pezophaps. The male was grayish and brown and the female blonde (the color of fair hair) or brown (Leguat 1708). Tafforet (1726) described Pezophaps as whitish gray and slightly black at the top of the back. Grihault (2007) thought that the blonde solitaires were probably semi-albinos or cinnamons, which, in the wild, are commonly females.

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Edibility Raphus. After a long voyage dodos would have been a much sought after source of meat. They were also easy to catch. However, the fatty dodo was probably quite rich food and so may have caused digestive problems for the undernourished sailors not used to rich nutriment after having consumed ship’s biscuit for so long. Dodos were initially considered good to eat: “reasonable of taste yet tough” (Cornelisz 1598); “a stomach so large that 2 men can make a delicious meal and is also the best-tasting [part] that there is of the bird” (Jolinck 1598); “very fat, when plucked, apparently very good, yet tough skinned” (Van Heemskerk 1598); “not at all disagreeable for food” (De Bry and De Bry 1601a); “their flesh is good to eat” (De Bry and De Bry 1600); “very good meat” (Anon. 1599); “they are good food and refreshment” (Gelderland journal); dodos “were very rich and fat of means, so they have brought many of them on board, to the contentment of us all” (Anonymous 1631). The crop (or stomach) and breast were found to be the best parts (Anon. 1601a; Clusius 1605). According to Van West-Zanen (1648), “Dod-aarsen [were] so large and heavy that for the meal it was not possible to eat two; all that remained was thrown into the salt.” Many dodos were salted for provisions (Van der Hagen 1646; Van West-Zanen 1648). Dodos were also hunted by the colonists (see chapter 1). It was said that only three or four dodos were sufficient for a hundred men to eat (Bontius 1658), but this is most probably an exaggeration. However, as there were pigeons and parrots which were “more delicate and tender,” the sailors preferred these to the dodos, which they “loathed,” “calling them lothsome or fulsome birdes.” Cauche remarked that dodos were not as tasty as the “fouches” (Phoenicopterus sp.) or “feiques” (Sarkidiornis melanotus), but stated that their “fat is excellent to soften the muscles & nerves” (1651). Herbert also remarked that “greasie stomackes may seeke after them, but to the delicate, they are offensive and of no nourishment” (1634) and that “meat it is with some . . . such as only a strong appetite can vanquish: but otherwise throught its oyliness, it cannot chuse but quickly cloy and nauciat the stomack” (1664). The descriptions “lothsome” and “fulsome” suggest distaste, excitation of nausea and also a tendency to cloy or surfeit. It would seem that the meat was probably fatty, especially during the fattening season, and tough, especially in old birds. The dodo was found to be so tough that the sailors “could not cook it done, but had to eat it half done” (Anon. 1601a); however long it was boiled it was still tough. Bontius (1658) added, “if not well boiled, or are old, they are difficult of digestion.” Despite this the dodo was still “eaten daily” (Verken 1613). An early account of the dodo explained that they “named these fowles Walghfowle (partly because they were tough in eating, how long time soeuer they sod: yet the crop & breast were very good meat) but specially because we could take store of Turtle Doues, which were more delectable in taste” (Anon. 1601c, fol. 6v [my italics]). As Broderip (1853a) mentioned, even the most delicious food palls if eaten repetitiously; “always partridges” is an old proverb.

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The taste and edibility of the meat would have depended on how it was cooked, the bird itself, the season, and the tastes of the sailors. Meat of older birds was probably tough: Clark remarked on the “difference between an old gander and a Michaelmas gosling,” (1865). The early texts relate that the meat was boiled (“sod”), which might not have increased its tenderness. Later authors mistakenly stated that “the flesh of the dodo cannot be eaten, because of its bad smell [mauvaise odeur]” (Sonnini 1817, tome 9, 590) and that its “flesh was blackish, fatty, very thick on the breast .  .  . this flesh was of rather bad taste, extremely hard in the old ones and of a not very pleasant odor” (Cuvier 1830, 123). There is no evidence that the flesh of the dodo was black or smelled bad. Owen (1867) thought that the dodo’s indiscriminate feeding on animals and plants gave its flesh a bad taste. Pezophaps. Leguat (1708) remarked that they “tast[e] admirably well, especially while they are young” (Leguat 1708); they are “of rather good taste” (Tafforet 1726). A bird, made into a pie, was found to be so tough that it was found inedible by Gennes de la Chancelière (1735). Charpentier de Cossigny (1755) noted that Pezophaps was “very good” to eat. Sexual Dimorphism Osteological sexual dimorphism was great in both the dodo and solitaire, but very developed in the latter (see figs. 6.9, 6.10).8 As sexual dimorphism is developed in the solitaire skeleton, then perhaps it was also in the plumage and external appearance. The larger specimens are attributed to males and the smaller ones to females, as in extant pigeons, although sexual dimorphism is not pronounced in volant pigeons. Judging from bone lengths, the female dodo was up to around 25% less than the size of the male and the female solitaire was up to around 28% less than the size of the male (see “The Dodologist’s Miscellany”). Clark noted that he was able to divide the most of the bones from Mare aux Songes into two size groups, “perceptibly differing, though not very unequal in size” (1866, 144).9 According to Oudemans (1917b, 1917c, 1918a), raphins were very sexually dimorphic. In the dodo, he said, males were larger than females, light bluish-gray, with a plume-like tail and long infra- and circumanal feathers. Females were darker colored, blackish-brown, with a brown breast and the tail comprising only a tuft, and no long infra- or circumanal feathers. Following from the brothers De Bry, he thought that some males were as big as two swans. Hachisuka (1953) described the male dodo thus: iris golden; face Frenchgray; larger tail plumes with under-tail covert and circumanal feathers; upper halves of tarsi with small, dark slate-colored feathers; tarsi yellow. He wrote this of the female dodo: iris brownish; darker plumage color than males; tail is an isolated tuft; tarsi unfeathered and reddish-brown. Very fat specimens were considered to be female. Staub (2000) suggested that the yellow wings and tail of the dodo might be a sexually dimorphic character. In truth, we have little idea as to how males and females differed. In the related columbids, Goura, Caloenas, Didunculus, sexual dimorphism is modest with little color variation. Pezophaps displayed much more

6.9.  Male and female Pezophaps skeletons, Hunterian Museum, The Royal College of Surgeons of England, London. 284

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6.10.  Skulls of Pezophaps. Top: male (BMNH A3505). Bottom: female (BMNH A3506).

variation both externally (with plumage being brown, gray, or blonde) and osteologically. Males and females of Pezophaps differed in plumage color. In addition, the female had a frontlet, but apparently not the male (but see above). Internal Anatomy Crop Raphus probably had a very large crop, as is suggested by contemporary illustrations. Columbids have a very large (bilobed) crop, and so Raphus is in accordance with this character. The crop would have been used for storage of food and for production of crop milk (Storer 2005). Storer noted that Leguat’s figure of Pezophaps does not indicate an enlarged crop, or “a partial separation of the stomach and the crop as in the Dodo,” but instead a pair of risings, which, he speculated, might have “contained parts of the crop in which the lining was folded or otherwise increased in area” (2005, 1003). Gizz a rd Strickland noted: “If by the ‘stomach,’ (venter, ventriculus, estomach, maag,) which the old voyagers found tender and palatable, the gizzard is intended, it would certainly imply a small degree of muscular rigidity. This, however, can hardly have been the case for we are assured by numerous witnesses . . . that the Dodo had stones in its gizzard; a character which is always accompanied by a very muscular condition of that organ” (1848, 43). The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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Diet

Ecology

Raphus. Raphus and Pezophaps were probably primarily ground feeders, occasionally taking low-level food. Raphus, at least, was mainly herbivorous, as confirmed by δ13C and δ15N ratios from bones, based on C3 plants (Rijsdijk et al. 2009; see table 6.9). The only record of the food of the dodo was by an anonymous author: “their food was raw fruit” (1631). Herbert remarked that “her appetite [was] strong and greedy, Stones and iron are digested” (1634). This was probably an association with the ostrich, which was supposed to be able to digest iron. It may also have origins in the feeding of stones to captive birds (see below). Blainville (1835) and Vrolik (1853) noted that the presence of a gastrolith suggested that the dodo was a granivore. Broderip suggested that the dodo was “a bird appointed to clear away the decaying and decomposing masses of a luxuriant tropical vegetation, – a kind of Vulture for vegetable impurities, so to speak, – and such an office would not be by any means inconsistent with comparative slowness of pedestrian motion” (1837, 55). La Fresnaye (1841), considering the dodo a terrestrial vulture, thought that it frequented beaches and fed on shellfish, mollusks and other marine animals washed up, as the condor does on occasion. Owen, assigning the dodo to the “Raptorial order,” stated that “Devoid of the power of flight, it could have had small chance of obtaining food by preying upon the members of its own class; and if it did not exclusively subsist on dead and decaying organized matter, it most probably restricted its attacks to the class of Reptiles and the littoral fishes, crustacea, &c., which its well-developed back-toe and claw would enable it to seize and hold with a firm gripe” (1846, 333). Brandt (1848a) thought that the dodo probably ate animal food and fruit and Strickland “supposed that the Dodo fed upon the cocoa-nuts, mangos, and other fruits which in tropical forests fall from the trees at all seasons of the year” (Anon. 1848a, 80). Schlegel (1854a) imagined that the dodo might have been an omnivore, as some ostrich-like birds. Broderip (1853a) speculated that the dodo might have occasionally eaten animal food it found along the beach. The dodo is seen looking at an eel in Savery-Vienna and at mollusks in Salomon Savery’s engraving, which suggested to some that the dodo might have eaten animal food. Owen (1867) supposed that the dodo probably used its large beak to eat animal as well as plant material, but Milne-Edwards (1866) thought that the dodo’s step was too heavy to enable it to catch small reptiles, and that terrestrial mollusks were not abundant enough to provide sufficient sustenance alone. He concluded that it was most probably phytophagous. Pitot (1914) considered that Pandanus (Vacoa) was the main food of Raphus. Renshaw (1931) thought that the rhamphothecal tomium was probably sharp, with a sharp hook, and that the dodo held food with its feet whilst breaking it up with its beak. Likewise, Lüttschwager (1961) thought that the large, hooked bill and sharp claws suggested a diet of hard food or food which must be acquired by struggle. Hachisuka (1953) postulated that the dodo might have dug up bulbs with its beak and feet. Livezey (1993) suggested that foregut fermentation might have been utilized; large size would have been beneficial to a more herbivorous lifestyle (enabling a larger gut to develop). Indeed, the large abdomen of Raphus 286

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might suggest the presence of a large digestive tract. Livezey (1993) also suggested that there might have been sexual and/or ontogenetic feeding niche partitioning due to greater sexual dimorphism and the longer dependence period of nestlings. However, this is unproven. According to Van Wissen (1995), the dodo fed on the seeds of ebony and other fruits and berries. Cornuault (1997) thought that the dodo supplemented its diet with the eggs of tortoises during its breeding period, giving the following reasons: The dodo was often painted as situated near freshwater. Mare aux Songes, where dodo bones were found, is also a marsh. Its food made it put on weight rapidly. This food was seasonal, collected between March–April and September– October (tortoises would have laid their eggs mid-March to July, which would have hatched mid-June to October; Pritchard 1979 [see Cornuault 1997]. However, according to Owen Griffiths [pers. comm., September 25, 2009] they would have hatched sometime around February). This food required strong feet and claws to retrieve it, a hooked beak to extract it, and a gastrolith to crush it. This food probably gave the dodo’s flesh a bad taste. Cauche (1651) mentioned the placing of a “white stone” adjacent to the dodo’s own egg. Tortoise eggs probably would have been on average 45 mm across. (Owen Griffiths, pers. comm., September 25, 2009; contra Cornuault 1997) Although the dodo probably did eat tortoise eggs (tortoises were very abundant), these were almost certainly not its mainstay. The predominant flora of pristine Mauritius comprised palms and ebony, and palm-rich woodland was probably formerly present on the coastal plains, especially in the north and west. The native flora of Mauritius produces large amounts of fruit throughout the year (Den Hengst 2003). Indeed, Clark reported, “Aged persons who have passed their lives in the woods have assured me that there was formerly a sufficiency of wild fruits to maintain any number of birds large enough to eat them, and that there was such a succession of them as would have sufficed for the whole year” (1866, 146). Being flightless, the dodo would have fed to a large extent on fallen fruits and seeds. Hachisuka (1953) thought the dodo ate fallen fruit, especially that of palms (Latania spp.), which are found in the lowlands. It is not known whether large seeds, such as those of the tambalacoque, which has a thick, hard endocarp, were broken up by the gizzard or were passed undamaged, but Witmer and Cheke noted, “If dodos were primarily granivorous, they probably destroyed most of the tambalacoque seeds they consumed” (1991, 134). Cheke and Hume (2008) suggested that the parrot Lophopsittacus might have specialized in feeding on palm seeds passed through the gut of a dodo or tortoise (cf. Anodorhynchus in South America). With its large size and wide gape, the dodo could swallow fruits and seeds whole, “stockpiling nutriment efficiently during the seasons of bounty” (Quammen 1996, 261). The loss of functional basipterygoid processes and potential related increase in palatal flexibility perhaps allowed The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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the swallowing of larger objects. These would have been digested in the well-developed gizzard, with its large gastrolith (see below). The following are Mauritian plants, the fruits of which were probably eaten by Raphus (Clark 1866; Staub 1993, 1996, 2000; Valledor de Lozoya 2002a; Den Hengst 2003; Grihault 2005b): ∙ Ebony (Diospyros angulata, D. chrysophyllos, D. egrettarum, D. hemiteles, D. nodosa, D. revaughanii, D. tesselaria) ∙ Bois de Natte (Labourdonnaisia glauca) ∙ Bois d’Olive (Cassine orientalis) ∙ Oil tree (Antidesma madagascariense) ∙ Hurricane palm (Dictyosperma album). Fruits ripen July to September. Probably the dominant tree of the palm-rich woodlands (Staub 1996). ∙ Round Island bottle palm (Hyophorbe lagenicaulis). The palm probably disappeared from coastal regions shortly after humans arrived (Staub 1993). ∙ Palms (Hyophorbe vaughanii, H. amaricaulis)10 ∙ Red spiny palm (Acanthophoenix rubra). Fruits ripen July to September. Fruits very rich in oil (Staub 1996). ∙ Blue latan (Latania loddigesii, L. vandermeerschii). Probable food of the dodo and solitaire (Staub 1993; Ashok Kumar Khadun [see Den Hengst 2003]). Large fruits in bunches, probably “the main fattening agents” of the dodo and solitaire (Staub 1996, 106). L. vandermeerschii ripen and mature March–August (Staub 1996). ∙ Screwpine (Pandanus heterocarpus) ∙ Pandanus (Pandanus vandermeeschii) ∙ Makak (Mimusops petiolaris), M. balata (M. maxima) ∙ Bois cerf (Olea lancea), O. europaea cuspidata (O. chrysophylla) ∙ Takamaka (Calophyllum tacamahaca) ∙ Bois colophane (Canarium paniculatum, C. mauritianum) ∙ Erythrospermum mauritanum (E. monticolum) ∙ Tambalacoque (Sideroxylon grandiflorum, formerly Calvaria major). The “Dodo Tree” of Day (1989). The dodo was probably able to swallow the fruits of Sideroxylon grandiflorum whole. The fruits may have been retained in the gizzard until small enough to be passed through the digestive tract or regurgitated (Temple 1977). ∙ Bois de fer (Sideroxylon boutonianum, including Calvaria globosa). Bellamy (1978) referred to this as the “dodonut tree” (Calvaria boutoniana), but was probably thinking of the tambalacoque. ∙ Sideroxylon sessiliflorum (Calvaria longifolium, C. hexangularis) ∙ Figs (Ficus mauritiana, F. reflexa, F. rubra, F. deltoidea [F. diversifolia], F. lateriflora). Ficus mauritiana bears fruit down to ground level (Staub 1996). ∙ Bois de Tambour (Tambourissa amplifolia) ∙  Calophyllum tacamahaca (C. spectabile) ∙  Stadmania ∙ Palmiste Bouglé (Tectiphiala ferox) ∙ Terminalia mauritiana ∙ Tossinia mespiloides, T. revoluta 288

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For further details of the fruiting of Mauritian trees, see Den Hengst (2003, 94t.). The following are Rodriguan plants, the fruits of which were probably eaten by Pezophaps (Staub 1996, 2000; Lowther 2002; Grihault 2007): ∙ Ebony ∙ Palmiste Marron (Hyophorbe verschaffeltii). Fruits ripen July to September. Fruit purported to be poisonous (Staub 1996). ∙ Palmiste Bon (Dictyosperma album var. aureum). Fruits ripen July to September (Staub 1996). ∙  Pandanus heterocarpus. Drupes ripen from March to December (Staub 1996). ∙  Pandanus verschaffeltii ∙ Red spiny palm (Acanthophoenix rubra) ∙ Pittosporum balfourii ∙ Fig (Ficus rubra) ∙ Bois puant (Foetidia rodriguesiana) ∙ Bois d’Olive (Cassine orientalis) ∙ Plantain dates ∙ Yellow latan (Latania verschaffeltii). Leguat and his companions left latan dates for the solitaires. Fruit ripens in March (Staub 1996). ∙ Sideroxylon galeatum (Calvaria galeata) For details of nutrient content of Mascarene fruits see Staub (1996, table 1). Palms, latans and figs drop their fruit at the start of winter (Staub 1996). Staub speculated that around October, when palms and latans stopped dropping dates, the dodo and its young moved to “the woody inland plateaux” to feed on fruits of forest trees. This would end in January, when the forest trees ceased to bear fruit. Palm fruits are generally richer in protein than forest fruits, and those of the red palm are very rich in fat (103). Reginald E. Vaughan and P. Octave Wiehé (1941) postulated in the 1930s that the distribution and germination of the seeds of the tambalacoque (Sideroxylon grandiflorum) were probably aided by passing through the gut of the dodo, noting that “young seeds” had been found with dodo bones. Ornithologist Stanley A. Temple (1977), who had spent time on Mauritius in the early 1970s (Quammen 1996), suggested that as the only extant specimens of the tambalacoque were estimated to be over 300 years old (no specimens supposedly having germinated in this time), the plant had developed a mutualistic relationship with the dodo and was now almost extinct as a result. He speculated that the fruits of the tambalacoque needed to pass through the digestive system of the dodo in order to reduce the thick endocarp, and that since the extinction of the dodo this has been impossible. To corroborate his hypothesis, Temple force-fed 17 tambalacoque stones to turkeys. Of these he collected 10 regurgitated or defecated stones, 3 of which germinated (Temple 1977). Temple (1977) suggested that the fruits of the tambalacoque had evolved a very thick endocarp in response to being eaten by the dodo and abraded in its gizzard, but that as a result the fruits required this abrasion to reduce the endocarp, allowing germination. He further stated that “fossil” tambalacoque seeds had been found among dodo bones in Mare aux Songes. The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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Temple’s hypothesis of “obligatory mutualism”11 became widely accepted (e.g., Durrell 1977; Feduccia 1996). Upon closer inspection, there are objections to Temple’s hypothesis: 1. There was no control experiment to ascertain if the seeds would germinate without abrasion and no measurement of the degree of any abrasion was given. 2. There are an estimated several hundred S. grandiflorum trees in Mauritius and there are wild trees less than 300 years old (Witmer and Cheke 1991). 3. Seeds of S. grandiflorum have germinated without the aid of turkeys or abrasion, although the germination rate is low (Cheke 1987; Strahm [see Quammen 1996]). 4. The seeds found at Mare aux Songes were not from S. grandiflorum but S. sessiliflorum and S. boutonianum (Cheke 1987), although S. grandiflorum seeds have since been found there. Furthermore, the association does not imply that they were a food source. 5. The decline of tambalacoque is probably due to introduced species, deforestation, and fungal attack. Temple (1983) countered that seedlings recently germinated might have been rare occurrences. For further details, see Cheke (1987). A further error was stated by Bellamy (1978) – that only the beak of the dodo could crack the stone of the tambalacoque. In fact, it is unlikely that the dodo could crack very hard endocarps of fruits with its beak (see above). In conclusion, the dodo may have aided germination of tambalacoque seeds, but the latter was not wholly reliant on it. Passing through the digestive tract of the dodo might have had an effect on germination rate, but the tambalacoque is able to germinate without digestion of its fruits (Staub 1977; Witmer and Cheke 1991). It is known that tambalacoque seeds germinate more frequently when the pulp has been removed, as in digestion, and it is probable that the tamabalacoque evolved a thick endocarp in response to frugivores such as the dodo (Witmer and Cheke 1991). Other Mauritian plants, such as the colophane, have similarly hard endocarps (Cheke and Hume 2008). Furthermore, John B. Iverson suggested that “a tortoise-tambalacoque seed coevolution” was just as logical as one with Raphus (1987, 229). Bats, parrots and giant skinks might also have eaten tambalacoque fruits (cf. Jones [see Quammen 1996]). To calculate the crushing power of the dodo’s gizzard, Temple (1977) used the equation y = 843x + 1210 (y = crushing power, x = body mass in kg, r = 0.97). Using a body mass of 12 kg, this yielded a power of 1.13 × 104 kg/m2 (for comparison the turkey, Meleagris gallopavo, yielded 3700 kg/m2). Temple (1977) postulated that tambalacoque stones would have been able to survive this crushing (contra Cheke 1987).12 Some Mauritian and Rodriguan plants are heterophyllous (the leaves of the young plants differ from those of adult plants) and it has been suggested 290

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6.11.  Raphus scapula and seeds from Mare aux Songes (BMNH A436).

that Raphus and Pezophaps might have “acted as a selective agent” by favoring juvenile leaves (Grant 1988; Hansen et al. 2004). Tortoises, however, are a more likely candidate (Cheke and Hume 2008). The extinction of Raphus and Pezophaps probably did have some effect on plant species, as they would have been important seed dispersers (Cheke 1987). Goura feeds on berries, fallen fruit, seeds, grubs, insects, and small crabs. It forages on the ground in groups of 2 to 10, occasionally up to 30. Caloenas feeds on the ground singly or in pairs, on fallen fruits, seeds and sometimes invertebrates. It can digest very hard nuts and seeds due to its gizzard, which is very muscular and lined with horny plates. Its gastroliths are up to 1 cm in diameter (Del Hoyo et al. 1997). It is likely that the dodo also had a very muscular gizzard, most probably with horny plates, as it is known to have possessed only a single gastrolith. Furthermore, as its beak was not used primarily to break the endocarp of fruits, the gizzard is likely to have been the primary digester of food. The dodo would have needed calcium, which would have been especially important in the breeding season, for the production of eggshell and crop milk (see below); it has been noted that pigeons have an extremely high calcium requirement (Ziswiler 1996). However, Mauritius, with its volcanic, acidic soil, is poor in calcium. As such, the dodo might have supplemented its diet with coral, seashells, snails, crabs, carcasses and tortoise eggs (Gill and West 2001; Grihault 2005b). The gastrolith might have aided in the crushing of such items. Snails were abundant in the forests and Raphus and Pezophaps might have even entered caves to find them. Other large pigeons, such as Goura, are known to feed on shellfish and other marine food. In addition, fallen fruits would have contained insects (e.g., rove beetles, nitidulid beetles, earwigs and ants [Staub 1996]). During the drought period the dodo probably supplemented its diet with roots, bulbs, young shoots, leaves, mollusks, and insects from the ground (Staub 1996). Lizards and land crabs were also plentiful. Pigeons drink by putting the bill into the water and their nostrils are therefore either closable or located high on the bill (Lüttschwager 1959b). It is not known whether the nostrils of Raphus were closable. The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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Pezophaps. Leguat (1708) stated that Pezophaps ate dates and Tafforet (1726) added that it fed on seeds and foliage collected from the ground. Pezophaps probably ate seeds, foliage, and palm fruits (Latania spp.), and probably had a similar diet to Raphus. Latans and palms fruited in winter, providing fruit for Pezophaps. Other plants fruited during the dry season, from October to December, up until the summer (Staub 1996). The large dates of Latania verschaffeltii, in addition to other Rodrigues fruits, would have allowed Pezophaps to become fat and breed during March–September (Staub 2000; Grihault 2007). During the fruitless period in December Pezophaps probably ate leaves and seeds; Pezophaps may also have fed on fruit dropped by fruit bats (Grihault 2007). Gastrolith Raphus. In the Gelderland journal it was noted that dodos “often have stones in their stomachs, as big as eggs sometimes bigger or smaller.” They “usually have in the stomach a stone as large as a fist” (Matelief 1646), which is rather large in terms of gastroliths. Plinius Secundus (1650) described the gastrolith as brown-gray in color, full of small holes, and porous – hard as Bentemer stone. Cauche noted, “if the small one is killed one finds a gray stone in his gizzard” (1651) – even young dodos apparently had a gastrolith (cf. Pezophaps [Leguat 1708]). L’Estrange remarked that the keeper of a captive dodo gave it many “large peble stones,” “some as bigg as nutmegs, and the keeper told us shee eate them Conducing to digestion.” However, he was “confident that afterwards shee cast them all agayne” (c. 1638). Herbert also mentioned, “Stones and Iron are digested,” which may be an allusion to the above practice, or confusion with the ostrich (1634). The nature of these stones varied. Clusius (1605) described two he saw at the house of at Christian Porret: one was flat and round and the other irregular and angular, an inch (2.57 cm)13 in size, being larger and heavier than the former (see fig. 4.1). Both were ash colored (cf. Cauche 1651). Clusius thought that it was probable that these were picked up on the seashore and swallowed – not formed in the bird’s stomach. No trace of Porret’s gastroliths has been found (Hachisuka 1953); they were probably thrown away (Oudemans 1917b). A cursory examination of the auction catalog of Porret’s collection (Anon. 1628), sold on March 28, 1628, yielded no definite mentions of the gastroliths, although various stones are listed.14 Pierre Bourgault du Coudray, who owned the Plaisance plantation, possesses what he considers to be a gastrolith of the dodo, found close to Mare aux Songes (fig. 6.12). It has a smooth surface pockmarked with small holes filled with organic matter (suggesting an origin from peat). It is basaltic, weighs 90 g (Staub 1996), and measures 39.0 × 42.5 mm (from photographs). In 2006 it was examined by Kenneth Rijsdijk and Frans Bunnik (see chapter 5), the former stating that “there’s no process we can think of that would produce this remarkable roundness” (quoted in Parker 2007, 72), which was suggested to be formed by the action of the dodo’s gizzard. Pierre Bourgault du Coudray described the discovery thus: On a day in February 1982 at around 14h00, I was walking in my estate near the area called “Mare aux Songes” to inspect a field which was bulldozed for sugar cane replantation. Suddenly my sight was attracted by a particular stone 6 meters

6.12.   Pierre Bourgault de Coudray’s supposed dodo gastrolith (courtesy of Pierre Bourgault, pers. comm., May 11, 2008). 292

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away in the field aside a furrow. I was astonished by the regularity of the stone form. I kept that stone for many years in one of my office drawers. I waited for the opportunity to share it with somebody else. This had been the case 6–8 years later in the person of Mr. Dumée-Duval, a friend of mine, who was taking notes on the remains of Dodo found. I brought him the stone for inspection and he confirmed that the stone came from the Dodo. (Pierre Bourgault, pers. comm., April 13, 2008)

Temple (1977) suggested that gastroliths assisted in the removal of the hard outer covering of large seeds, particularly Sideroxylon grandiflorum (see discussion of diet above). Wiehé (1949 [see Cowles 1987]) considered that Sideroxylon galeatum was probably a dominant tree on Rodrigues and that the trituration of the seeds in the gizzard of Pezophaps aided their germination. Staub (2000) suggested that the ridged seeds of latans aided in digestive abrasion, with smaller palm seeds providing packing for added pressure. The gizzard of pigeons always contains gravel, except in Ducula, Ptilinopus and Megaloprepia, where gravel and stones are replaced by highly keratinized cuticle (Verheyen 1957). Goura possesses only one large gastrolith (Ottow 1950; Verheyen 1957). Didunculus possesses numerous small stones (Beichle 1987). The gizzard of Caloenas is very muscular and lined with keratin plates. The gastrolith might have been considered a bezoar, an animal-derived stone with supposed medicinal properties. This might suggest its importance to the apothecary Porret, who possessed two dodo gastroliths. Houttuyn noted, “This seems then indeed to be able to called a bird-bezoar [Vogel-Bezoar]” (1763, 324). Likewise, Buffon remarked, “One did not fail to allot the same origin & the same virtues [of the gastrolith] as to the bézoards” (1770, 483), and Müller: “One finds all time in their [the dodo’s] stomach a stone of brown color, wrinkled and as large as a hen’s egg; perhaps this is a bird-bezoar; at least the Indians sharpen their knives on the same” (1773, 456). Pezophaps. The gizzard was larger than a fist (Tafforet 1726). Pezophaps had a single gastrolith, a brown stone the size of a hen’s egg, “somewhat rough, flat on one side, and round on the other” (Leguat 1708), or “a little flat oval” (Tafforet 1726), heavy and hard (Leguat 1708). Leguat (1708) remarked, “We believe this stone was there when they were hatched, for let them be never so young, you meet with it always.” The gastrolith was probably given to the young by a parent (Cheke and Hume 2008). Leguat stated that the passage that goes from the crop to the gizzard (proventriculus) “is too narrow by half to give passage to a similar mass” (1708, French edition); Tafforet (1726) noted that they could only swallow objects smaller than a small cherry. Buffon (1770) concluded from Leguat’s statement that the bird was granivorous and noted that the canal between the crop and the gizzard was probably capable of greater dilation than Leguat supposed. D’Heguerty thought the gastrolith of Pezophaps had medicinal properties (see above). William James Caldwell found four gastroliths of Pezophaps, each associated with a skeleton and found when the sternum was lifted. He designated three of these stones A, B, and C: Of the three stones found in situ A and B were taken by Sergeant Morris [of the Police], in my presence, and C, the stone I have given you, by myself; but all in my presence. The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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The first found was B. Morris had called me to see the leg bones protruding from the dry powdery soil in the upper or entrance chamber of the cavern, and we began carefully to remove the earth. We then came to the sternum (which was in every case keel above), when Morris put his fingers under it to lift it entire, and said “there is a round stone under it.” The earth was then more carefully removed, the sternum lifted, and the stone close up to it. No other stone was found until we reached the floor about 20 inches [50.8 cm] below the surface, but even the fragments occasionally found in no way resembled this, or the other two subsequently found, being coralline. We did not at first pay much attention to the stone; I had merely put it in my pocket, being puzzled to account for a rounded basalt pebble being found in the dry earthy dust of a cavern in the face of a low cliff above the large main cavern we had explored in vain. It should be noted that in this chamber there was plenty of light. Stone A was found in the lower chamber of the cavern by Morris. When he called to me that there appeared to be an entire bird embedded, I came up. There was a very bright lamp with us and each bone was carefully uncovered and put aside. Here again the bird was on its back buried in the loose dusty soil, and the sternum consequently uppermost. It was very carefully raised by Morris, when stone A was found in exactly a similar position to the last. It was then Morris remarked “it would be curious if this were the stone the bird was said to have in its belly.” The third stone was found in the upper chamber by me, and also under the fragment of sternum which accompanies the stone, but the bird was very incomplete, and apparently young. J. Caldwell, 6 Dec. 1877. P.S. There are no stones of similar composition to these in the neighbourhood of any of the caverns where the Solitaire bones have been found. I should think the nearest place where fragments of basalt could be found would be at least two [3.2 km] if not three miles [4.8 km] from the cavern where I found them. (Newton and Clark 1879, 449–450)

He also noted, “I got, both with the mounted bird and the male bird, the stones mentioned by Leguat as existing in the gizzard. In each case they were found on lifting the sternum and in the middle of the ribs. They are basaltic pebbles with rough angles and surfaces, and no stone of similar kind is to be found within about two miles of the caverns. I got four in all, but only two of which I could identify the birds they belonged to” (Caldwell 1875, 647). One of these he gave to Edward Newton, who sent it to Alfred Newton who exhibited it at the meeting of the ZSL on March 5, 1878. This stone was hard, brown, heavy and “somewhat rough.” It was only slightly flattened on one side and the bird it belonged to was thought to have been young. It weighed just over 13/4 oz. (49.61 g; Newton 1878, 291); this stone (UMZC 415.P), formerly in the UMZC, is now lost, but casts remain (UMZC 415.T; fig. 6.13). Thomas George Bonney gave this description of the petrology of one of these stones: This rock externally presents considerable resemblance to a dolerite. Such it is proved to be on microscopic examination; the slide shewing a crystalline mixture of plagioclase fel[d]spar, augite, olivine, and a peroxide of iron (hematite). The plagioclase is well preserved; the sections are commonly about six times as long as wide, and exhibit the characteristic twinning; probably it is labradorite. Enclosures of opacite, augite (?), and other microliths, with minute gas-cavities, are frequent in some crystals, rare in others; colours with polarizing apparatus fairly bright. The augite in the sections is of a pale puce-brown colour, rather rough in texture, and with the nicols fairly rich coloured. The olivine also shews

6.13.  Three casts of a Pezophaps gastrolith (UMZC 415.T). 294

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brilliant colours; with ordinary light it is nearly colourless, except where stained a warm brown through incipient decomposition; some crystals are thus rendered almost opaque. For this reason, and the absence of serpentine, I conclude this to be a ferriferous variety approaching hyalosiderite. The grains of iron peroxide are not very numerous and are rather irregular in form. It seems most probable that they are hematite. These minerals are enumerated in order of frequency. The fel[d]spar, as is not unfrequent in doleritic rocks, is pierced in places by long acicular microliths, nearly colourless; some of which may possibly be apatite. (Newton and Clark 1879, 450)

Call (Vocalization) Raphus. Cauche noted that the dodo had “a cry like the gosling” (1651). Oudemans (1917b) thought this doubtful. Evertsz added: “if we kept one firm by the leg . . . it made a scream.” This is similar to reports of parrots (e.g., Van West-Zanen 1648) and it is possible that the remark was derived from these. Oudemans (1917b) thought that the Portuguese called the dodo doudo because of the bird’s supposed call, “doedoe.” Similarly, Lüttschwager (1959b) thought the names dudu and dondon might have been derived from its call. Rowley (1877) added that if the name dodo was derived from its vocalization then the latter might have been doo doo, or even “Do-DoDodar.” Den Hengst (2003) noted that if the dodo was named after its call “the Portuguese pronunciation would suggest Dudu,” but there is no evidence for this. However, it is unlikely that the dodo derived any of its names from its vocalization (see chapter 4). The call of Didunculus sounds like ko¯o¯ ko¯o¯ (Hachisuka 1953) or a drawn-out oooo (Gibbs et al. 2001). Goura makes a hoom-hoom-hoom-hoom-hoom noise and Caloenas makes a ku-RRAU and a soft cooing sound (Gibbs et al. 2001). Habitat Raphus. Dodos were found on small islets (Gelderland journal; see fig. 1.20; Evertsz 1662) and Van West-Zanen’s men found them on their explorations into the hills and mountains and through the woods and valleys of the mainland. Van der Hagen’s men also hunted dodos in the woods. It is not known if the dodos had swum to Evertsz’s islet or if they were a relict population from when the islet was last joined to the mainland. Tortoises were also found on the islet. Renshaw thought that the “rounded outlines” of the dodo suggested that it lived in “light thicket, through which its heavy, smooth body would easily slip” (1931, 17). Lüttschwager considered the habitat of the dodo to be “shrub-rich, damp forest” (1961, 26). The concept that the dodo was a shore bird (e.g., Brandt 1848a) was partly based on conclusions from paintings where the dodo is shown in or near water, often with herons, waterfowl and frogs. Hachisuka (1953) thought that captive birds were probably kept with other ornamental birds, such as waterfowl, and thus near water. Furthermore, Anon. (1601a) and De Bry (1600, 1601a, 1601b, 1601c) show the dodo near the shore, and Clusius (1605) stated that dodos might have picked up stones on the seashore for use as gastroliths. However, these scenes are artificially composed (see introduction). Clark’s discovery of dodo bones in The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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the marsh Mare aux Songes also contributed to the concept of it as a swamp or water bird, especially as the site is close to the sea. Fuller (2002) thought that the dodo lived near the coast, rather than in the interior, and that this was a reason for its rapid extinction. Julian Hume (see Fuller 2002) thought that the dodo inhabited the coastal area of the west and south of Mauritius, which has a drier climate. Hume (2003) suggested that dodos might have been restricted to the dry, lowland areas of Mauritius. However, finds of subfossil remains contradict these ideas. Staub (2000) thought that the dodo preferred the western coastal regions and that many lived around Fort Frederik Hendrik, where there was food and shelter in the valleys. Staub (1996) suggested that the dodo probably did not venture into the wet and windy altitudes during the winter when it had lighter plumage. He added that in September, after the palms had fruited, the dodos probably went into the uplands in order to cope with the drought-like circumstances (Staub 2000). These remain mere speculations. The localities of finds of dodo remains (see fig. Intro.2), combined with geographical locations mentioned in accounts, indicate that the dodo was once widespread and could be found from the coast to the uplands. The dodo probably sheltered in caves, woods, valleys, and boulder fields during cyclones and its remains have been found in lava caves (cf. solitaire remains found in caves and ravines). The fact that the dodo was found both on small islets and in mountainous regions suggests that it was somewhat of an opportunist. Pezophaps. Pezophaps was found in wooded areas, in the open, or among the rocks (Leguat 1708; Tafforet 1726). Fuller (2002) surmised that Pezophaps was probably primarily a woodland bird, rather than a shore bird. Rodrigues was probably more wooded in the past (North-Coombes 1971). The limestone plain, in which the caves are found, was probably mostly covered in low vegetation in Leguat’s time (North-Coombes 1979). The valleys and ravines were covered with palm trees, latans (Latania verschaffeltii), ebony, and other species (Leguat 1708). Jenner speculated, [T]he western portion of the Island is the only place likely to have been selected by such a bird as the Solitaire as its resort: A bird of such weight, which could not fly and in a plain could be outrun by a man, would not be likely to select for its haunts the inaccessible steeps of the Eastern part of the Island where even the goat which jumps from crag to crag so often finds its passage impeded; and it is therefore natural to believe that generally speaking the birds – confined themselves to the table lands on the western end, and that as roosting on trees was an impossibility, as they were unable to raise themselves by the wings, the entrances to the caverns, which I have described, afforded natural dormitories, in the vicinity of the plains where they passed their days in search of food. (1871, 18–19)

He added that it was likely that Pezophaps lived and slept near streams, such as the Rivière Quitorde, as tropical birds are known to do. Habits Raphus. Dodos were relatively “tame” birds and could be caught by hand. However, they could bite “mighty hard with the beak” and a man might be “seized by an arm or a leg” by the bird (Verken 1613). Another writer noted 296

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that “their military weapon was their mouth, there too they could bite fierce” (Anonymous 1631). If one was caught and held by the leg it called out and this attracted others of its kind, which were also caught (Evertsz 1662). The terrible image of a captured distressed dodo screaming is similar to that of parrots (Van West-Zanen 1648) and other birds, e.g., the oystercatcher (Haematopus ostralegus [Behn 1868]). Hachisuka (1953) remarked that since no other columbid (including Pezophaps) makes a noise when captured this statement is likely to have been taken from similar accounts of parrots. Dodos were described as “very superb or proud, they showed themselves to us with an abrupt stern face and wide open mouth, very jaunty and audacious of gait, would not scarcely place a foot before us” (Anonymous 1631). The description “tame,” as applied to the dodo, indicates its incautious behavior when confronted with predators, such as man. They may have been inquisitive, but were by no means docile or domesticated. These characteristics allowed the sailors to attack and kill the birds with sticks. By the time of Evertsz’s visit at least some dodos had learnt to evade man and were probably difficult to catch (cf. Pezophaps). Luther considered both the dodo and solitaire to have lived hidden “predominantly as loners in the close shrub forests of their homeland islands” (1970, 100). In contrast, Fuller (2002) thought that Raphus probably lived in groups, perhaps large ones. Gill and West (2001) postulated that dodos were probably only sociable during the rainy season, which was when they bred. They added that males were probably aggressive and territorial during this time, and that desirable nesting territories as well as displays might have attracted females. Locomotion Raphus. The dodo was described as having a “slow pace” (Herbert 1634), but on occasion they could run very rapidly (Evertsz 1662). They were unable to swim “butt as other land Fowle Doe [when] on Necessity Forced into the water” (Mundy 1638). They may have ventured into water, on occasion, as dodos would have had to swim out to the islet where Evertsz found them in 1662 (unless they were a relict population). Kitchener calculated the cantilever strengths of dodo leg bones. Average-size leg bones were bisected and diaphysial wall thickness was measured. He found that tibiotarsus and tarsometatarsus cantilever strengths fell within the range of birds studied by McNeil Alexander, being comparable to those of large cursorial birds, if the dodo was “thin” (10.6–17.5 kg). However, “fat dodos would have barely managed a gentle trot” (1993b, 27). He also found that the femur has a lower-than-expected cantilever strength, suggesting that either the femur was held in a more vertical position than in other birds or the bone measured was anomalously weak (although the dodo bones selected from the UMZC collections for analysis “were as close as possible to the mean measurements for length and diameters”). Using the equation Cantilever strength (MPa) = π∙S∙(Ds3∙Dt-ds3∙ds) / 16∙m∙g∙L∙Ds Ds = external sagittal diameter (m) Dt = external transverse diameter (m) The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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ds = internal sagittal diameter (m) dt = internal transverse diameter (m) L = total bone length (m) m = body mass ( kg) g = acceleration due to gravity (10 m/s) S = bending strength of bone (170 MPa), Kitchener obtained the following results: Table 6.6 Cantilever strength (MPa) Femur (n = 1)

Tibiotarsus (n = 1)

“Thin” dodo (10.5–17.5kg)

2.26–3.76

2.43– 4.05

Tarsometatarsus (n = 1) 2.03–3.38

“Fat” dodo (21.7–27.8kg)

1.42–1.82

1.53–1.96

1.28–1.64

n = number of bones measured; after Kitchener 1993a.

The results suggest that the dodo was a cursorial bird that was able to run fast on occasion (cf. Evertsz’s Account). A “fat” dodo would have been hardly able to run. At least two dodos survived the long journey to Europe (the 1626 Amsterdam dodo and L’Estrange’s bird), and two others to India (the Surat dodos). The diet and conditions on board ship were probably poor, suggesting that the dodo was a relatively robust bird, unlike the solitaire, which did not do well in captivity (d’Heguerty 1754). Pezophaps. Pezophaps was often seen singly or in couples (Tafforet 1726). It was usually considered to be solitary, but was occasionally seen in larger groups (30 or 40: Leguat 1708). However, Valleau applied the name solitaire to Pezophaps before its description by Leguat. This was probably due to an analogy with the solitaire described by Dubois on Réunion. Leguat (1708) was the first to record territorial and lekking behavior in birds (Armstrong 1953). The wings were used in fighting and in “twirling” when they called to each other. Twenty or 30 rapid pirouettes were made on the same side during a four-to-five-minute period (Leguat 1708). This might have been courtship. When they were angry (Tafforet 1726), they made a noise with their wings, like that of a rattle (Leguat 1708) or thunder (Tafforet 1726), which could be heard over 200 paces away. Livezey (1993) noted that the developed sexual dimorphism in Pezophaps suggested significant territoriality, polygyny, and lekking. It is unknown whether territories were maintained all year. Raphus was probably also territorial, at least to some degree. Healed fractures in Pezophaps might indicate intraspecific combat (cf. Chauna), although most pathologies were evidently genetic. Males had a greater development of metacarpal and radial exostoses than females. This was probably due to a likely longer developmental period, although it was probably beneficial to intraspecific combat and may have been preferentially selected. The beak and wing callosity were used in defense (Leguat 1708; Tafforet 1727) and Pezophaps was also known to bite (Tafforet 1726). Leguat noted that when preening, they “polish themselves with the beak” (1708).

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Pezophaps was difficult to capture in wooded areas, but could be outrun in the open (Leguat 1708). It was fast, agile among the rocks, difficult to catch (Tafforet 1726), but could occasionally be approached easily (Leguat 1708). It could be taken by hand (Valleau 1692) after chasing (d’Heguerty 1754). It could not be tamed, and if captured it “shed Tears without Crying” and refused all food until it died (Leguat 1708). D’Heguerty noted the “sad countenance” of captive Pezophaps, “one always sees it walking in the same line as long as it has space, & retrogressing in the same way without deviating” (1754). Abundance Raphus. The Gelderland journal mentions that dodos were to be found “in large quantities.” Van West-Zanen’s men caught 20 dodos in 3 days and 24 or 25 on another excursion (Van West-Zanen 1648). Van der Hagen (1607) remarked that during their stay they ate nothing but dodos and other animals. Verken also stated that dodos occur “in large quantity” (1613). Altham (1628) and Herbert (1634) spoke of the dodo’s rareness (see chapter 1) but this may have referred to Europe rather than Mauritius. Mundy noted, “Allthough we now Mett with none, yett Divers tymes they are Found here” (1638). By Evertsz’s time on Mauritius the dodos in the areas he explored were restricted to a tidal islet, and by Hugo’s and Lamotius’s time they were rare, even inland. Those dodos on pig-free islets (such as Evertsz’s islet) were no doubt killed by humans. Staub assumed that the dodo population must have been “kept at a fairly constant level by the culling of cyclones” (1996, 105). Many other factors, including food availability, would have also contributed. Pezophaps. Assuming a territory size of 10–12 ha., a maximum population for Pezophaps can be calculated, given the current area of Rodrigues as 109 km2. This gives c. 908–1090 pairs (plus their single offspring). Given an area of 1200 km2 during the last glaciation, a maximum value of 10,000– 12,000 pairs (plus offspring) is obtained. Obviously, however, not all land would have been available for territories, and not all birds would have held territories, so this is only a very approximate estimation. Courtship and Breeding Staub (1996, 2000) thought that Raphus and Pezophaps bred in winter, March to September, having fattened up. Grihault (2005b) thought that the dodo probably bred in July and August. The large cucullus muscles would have erected the head and neck feathers, presumably for display – either courtship or aggression. Both Goura and Caloenas also have well-developed cucullus impressions on the cranium. The former has a head crest (cf. Microgoura) and the latter has long neck feathers (hackles). Caloenas has a bowing display with most of the plumage erected; displays with erected neck feathers might be aggressive. Goura also has a bowing display in which the male fans and erects the tail, partly opens the wings, and the head is bowed quickly (Gibbs et al. 2001). Male Columba livia also erects the neck feathers in display. The similarity

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of coloration (especially the dark-tipped wing coverts) between the dodo and Goura might suggest that the former also spread its wings in display. Bill tapping and aggressive confrontations between males might also have occurred. The behavior of Raphus was probably similar to that recorded for Pezophaps. A lack of predators might have allowed for a longer than predicted incubation period (cf. Livezey 1993). Lowther (2002) predicted an incubation period for Raphus and Pezophaps of around 37 days (from an egg mass of 6.3 oz. [180 g]; see below). Nesting material was probably gathered from within the territory. The young of both Raphus and Pezophaps would have been altricial and probably had a long period of parental care (cf. Caloenas, Goura). The grouping of young, unrelated, birds together suggests crèche formation. Other birds having crèche behavior also have one chick and long periods of parental care (Livezey 1993). Cheke and Hume (2008) disagreed, noting that crèches are many juveniles warded by a few adults, and stated that the groups were merely congregations of immature birds. Livezey (1993) also suggested that the “marriage” described by Leguat might represent the young following adults when foraging, as occurs in some other columbids. The dodo probably bred only once a year or perhaps every other year. Using the equation log modal age first breeding = 0.178 log female weight + 0.875 (Bennett and Owens 2002), Raphus probably started to breed in its second year (although the data set used comprises birds mostly . . . >Tk are the k most recent sighting years, ordered from most to least recent. θ is the extinction time and a is the weighting factor. For further details, see Roberts and Solow (2003). The dates used were 1662, 1638, 1631, 1628, 1628, 1611, 1607, 1602, 1601, and 1598.17 The date of Simon’s witness of a dodo, given by the authors as 1674, was not included. There are several potential drawbacks with the application of Roberts and Solow’s (2003) method: ∙ There is no differentiation between types of encounters – visiting ships vs. inhabitants. Ships: the dodo is usually mentioned only once in journals although they may have been encountered several times during a ship’s stay (which was sometimes months in duration), a partial exception being that of Van West-Zanen (1648). Inhabitants: Lamotius recorded the dodo in his journal several times as hunters brought them back. Also Lamotius’s journal entries are comprehensive, but these end in 1688, and any subsequent sightings are not recorded. There are two types of data – one discontinuous (ships’ visits) and the other potentially continuous (from the colonists).

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∙ No account is made for the localities of observations – the crew of visiting ships might not have gone far into the interior. Dodos are known from all over Mauritius from subfossil remains. ∙ No account is made for the numbers of birds seen. The method does not take into account population (which is unknown for the dodo anyway). ∙ The escaped slave, Simon, reported seeing dodos twice in the period 1663–1674, but the exact dates are not recorded. As noted by Cheke (2006), the end date of 1674 is often used for Simon’s reports. However, the year cannot be inferred as no exact dates are given. One would have to assume a data point for this. ∙ No account is taken for differentiation of periods of Dutch occupation and abandonment of Mauritius. ∙ There is no account taken for birds kept in captivity outside Mauritius in Europe, India, and Batavia. These would add the dates c. 1603, 1626, c. 1638, (1624–1627), (1628–1634), and 1647. No account is made for anatomical specimens, although these would be impractical to incorporate. ∙ No account taken for lifestyle of the inhabitants – was there enough food or did they have to rely on hunting to a greater extent – or of the nature of the records (for example, Lamotius was a naturalist and a good record keeper, and was careful to note occurrences of the dodo). ∙ We do not know if accounts by different authors on the same voyage (e.g., Cornelisz and Van West-Zanen; Valleau and Leguat) were independent of one another. If they were not, then these would have to be taken as a single data point. From the present work, the dates of records of Raphus are as follows: reports – 1598 (Van Warwijck), 1601 (Harmansz), 1602 (Cornelisz, Van WestZanen), 1606 (Matelief, added tentatively), 1607 (Van der Hagen), 1611 (Ver­ ken), 1616 (Almeida), 1628 (Altham), 1629 (Herbert), 1631 (anonymous), 1640 (Cauche, or his informant), 1662 (Evertsz), 1663–1674 (Simon), 1673 (Hugo), 1681 (Harry), 1685 (Lamotius), 1685 (Lamotius), 1685 (Lamotius), 1685 (Lamotius), 1686 (Lamotius), 1686 (Lamotius), 1687 (Lamotius), 1688 (Lamotius), 1688 (Lamotius), 1688 (Lamotius), and 1688 (Lamotius); exported birds – c. 1603 (the Prague dodo), 1626 (the Amsterdam dodo), c. 1638 (L’Estrange’s dodo), c. 1624–1627 (Mansu¯r’s dodo), 1628–1634 (Mundy’s dodos), and 1647 (the Batavia dodo).18 The dates of records of Pezophaps are as follows: reports – 1601 (Bouwer), 1691 (Valleau), 1691–1693 (Leguat), 1725–1726 (Tafforet), 1735 (Gennes de la Chancelière), c. 1734 (d’Heguerty), and 1761 (Pingré); exported birds – 1729 (Jonchée de la Goleterie). The dates of records of Threskiornis are: reports – 1613 (Tatton), 1667 (Ruelle), 1667 (Carré), 1671–1672 (Dubois), 1671 (Bellanger de Lespinay), 1671 (Le Breton), 1671 (Le Navarre), 1671 (Melet), 1671–1672 (Dubois), 1704 (Feuilley), and 1708 (Hébert) (1735–1746 [Labourdonnais] excluded). With so many uncertainties and inconsistencies, the importance that can be placed on this method is limited. Unfortunately, it just serves to add to the confusion in the field of dodo research. 312

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The last known sighting of dodos has been given as that of Evertsz (1662), Harry (1681), or Lamotius (1688). Fuller (2002) suggests that if the last sighting was that of Evertsz then the fact that dodos survived on an islet might be significant as it was separated from the main island by water, which might have inhibited pigs and macaques. Van Wissen (1995) and Hume (2003) considered Evertsz’s account to be the last recorded sighting of the dodo, with all subsequent records being fraudulent or relating to Aphanapteryx. Fuller (2002) agreed with this, but also suggested that Evertsz’s description could also relate to Aphanapteryx, firstly because it had been stated by other authors that Aphanapteryx could be attracted by the distress calls of its congeners, and secondly that grabbing a dodo by the leg would probably cause it to give a painful bite, whereas the rail would not be able to administer such a wound. Likewise, Mlíkovský thought that Evertsz’s description could not refer to the dodo as they were described as running fast. He further remarked: “there is no evidence, that Hugo or Lamotius applied the name [of dodaers] to proper dodos” (2004, 112). However, Evertsz also mentioned Aphanapteryx, both on the islet (Berghüner) and on the mainland (Veldthoenders); he also mentioned that the birds were larger than geese, which would apply to the dodo, but not Aphanapteryx. Cheke (1987, 2004a, 2006) maintained that the post-1662 eyewitness references to the dodo refer to Aphanapteryx (see chapter 1). Cheke (1985, 1987, 2001) thought that the dodo was probably extinct on the mainland by 1640, or had perhaps survived until 1663–1674 (Cheke 2001). Ziswiler agreed: “The last of their kind might have survived until 1670 on small islands before the coast. Later published ‘eye-witness reports’ are to be regarded as plagiarism, or they confound the Dodo with the later exterminated Mauritius rail Aphanapteryx bonasia or the Solitaire of Rodriguez” (1996, 15). It should also be noted, however, that if the dodo survived on Evertsz’s island then it might have also survived on other islets to a later date (see also chapter 1). The extinction dates previously proposed for Raphus range from the 1640s on the mainland and around 1662 on Île d’Ambre (Cheke 2006), to a latest possible date of around 1693 (Cowles 1987). Dodos were probably rare by the 1670s. Lamotius’s accounts indicate that the species survived until at least 1688. Considering the size of the remaining forests and the estimated longevity of the dodo, a suggested extinction date of c. 1700 is proposed. Den Hengst wrote that after the last mentions of the dodo by Lamotius, there might have been “a few left, hidden in the depths of the forest, but certainly not enough to sustain the population” (2003, 30).

Pezophaps The following introduced species probably played some part in the extinction of Pezophaps: Rats (Rattus rattus), probably introduced from shipwrecks in the sixteenth century, were mentioned as being abundant by Leguat (1708). Tafforet remarked that they were as numerous as the tortoises and crabs. Pingré stated that they were a plague on both Rodrigues and Mauritius. NorthCoombes, however, thought that rats “had no significant influence upon the birds” (1971, 268). Cats were first mentioned by Cossigny (1755). Eudes (see The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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Telfair 1833; see chapter 5) noted that the Dutch had left cats on Rodrigues when they first visited. Dogs were released in 1761 by the British (Cheke 1987). Goats were first mentioned by Gennes de la Chancelière (1735). Puvigny had a small herd of cattle in 1761 (Pingré 1763 [see Cheke 1987; Avezac 1848]) and the cattle and goats multiplied and became feral (Avezac 1848). From around 1730 ships stopped at Rodrigues to collect tortoises. Initially there were only four trips per year to collect tortoises, but later this increased. Ships were sent from Réunion to collect tortoises and birds (Greenway 1967); once as many as 30,000 tortoises were taken in less than 18 months (Milne-Edwards 1875).19 Reduction of fauna probably reached a height on Rodrigues between 1730 and 1760 (Milne-Edwards 1875). Cossigny (1755) remarked that he had heard that feral cats were responsible for decline in solitaire numbers, but he himself thought that it was resident humans. However, the human population was low during the period 1725–1765 (Cheke 1987). When Pingré visited in 1761 there were around 60 people living on the island (Staub 1973). Despite this, humans would have had a big impact on Pezophaps, which was probably hunted by the tortoise collectors, and also on the native flora on which the birds fed. Pingré (1761) also reported that feral cats had probably caused the rareness of the solitaire and Eudes ([see Telfair 1833]) thought that cats were an important factor in its extinction, eating the chicks. Marragon (1795 [see Dupon 1969]) noted that feral cats were widespread and ate tortoise eggs and young. He added that they were hunted with dogs. Avezac (1848) speculated that escaped slaves had hunted the solitaire, and Newton and Newton (1868) thought that wild pigs had probably caused the extinction of the bird. The latter is unlikely, as pigs were not introduced until the 1790s (Cheke and Hume 2008, contra Hume in Cheke and Hume 2008, 167). Caldwell (1875) postulated that Pezophaps could not have become extinct due to lack of food or from the presence of people (the population was too sparse and the area where the bones of the solitaire were discovered was too remote for anything other than occasional hunting), or from the presence of pigs (due to lack of food and water away from the ravines). He thought that its extinction was due to cyclones or other disturbance causing the birds to take shelter in caves and fissures and some of them not being able to get out again. Winds would have stripped plants of food for the solitaires and they would have starved. However, cyclones would have been occurring for many thousands of years (Rodrigues is in a cyclone corridor) and thus Pezophaps must have adapted to their effects (North-Coombes 1971). Moreover, solitaires would not have needed to venture far into the caves to escape a storm. Prolonged drought on Rodrigues would have caused many birds to die (water was scarce in the dry season, October to December), reducing the population to perhaps critical levels (Cowles 1987). Cyclonic weather, heavy rain, and high winds would have been another cause of death; this would have been especially detrimental to Raphus and Pezophaps if they possessed plumage less weatherproof than that of volant birds, leading to death by hypothermia (Cowles 1987). Deforestation would have reduced shelter for solitaires from cyclones (Staub 1973). North-Coombes thought that Pezophaps had retreated to the uninhabited parts of the island, “of which the safest for them was the western 314

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extremity” and that their final extinction was caused by fire: “one day a great fire started; a wind from the north or northwest fanned it. Panicstricken, the birds ran before the fire, stumbled into the caves, the crevices and other odd places, where they died more from suffocation than from hunger” (1971, 268). It is known that the tortoise collectors reduced the vegetation by fire. Vegetation was formerly more widespread (having since been reduced by fires, etc.), even around the caves (North-Coombes 1971). Pingré (1763 [see Cheke 1987]) mentioned a large fire that destroyed much forest, although forest was still dense and reasonably widespread at the end of the eighteenth century (Cheke 1987). Milne-Edwards remarked, “The local traditions allot the destruction of the woods to large fires, lit by man, and it is also the influence, either direct or indirect, of this which appears to me to have determined the extinction of the animal species of which I come to speak” (1873, 814). Newton and Gadow (1896) attributed fire, which caused the destruction of vegetation, as a main cause of bird extinctions. North-Coombes (1971) thought that slaves, pigs, cats, and fire were the cause of the solitaire’s extinction. Tafforet (1726) made no note of the solitaire’s abundance. There were no cats, dogs, or pigs on Rodrigues at this time (North-Coombes 1971). There are very few mentions of the solitaire from 1726–1761, although tortoises are mentioned as they were exported as food. Solitaires were not mentioned by Marragon (1795 [see Dupon 1969]). Mr. Gorry, a landowner on Rodrigues who had arrived in 1793, stated in 1832 that he had never known such a bird as represented by the bones discovered in 1832 (Telfair 1833; Dupon 1969). It is important to remember that Pezophaps had evolved on Rodrigues over a long period and was probably adapted to cope with the effects of cyclones and drought. However, these, combined with anthropogenic effects, might have been enough to cause its extinction. It was rare by the time of Pingré’s visit (1761), and probably became extinct shortly thereafter. Extinction is usually not a simple matter and many factors can contribute to it, with each not necessarily being great enough cause alone. There are both primary (predation of adults, juveniles, and eggs) and secondary (stress, disruption of behavior, and degradation of habitat and food) effects to consider. It is probable that both Raphus and Pezophaps became extinct due to a number of factors, including the effects of introduced mammals and hunting. In the case of Raphus, perhaps the most significant were pigs (and perhaps also monkeys), which would have roamed the forests and caused much disruption, especially during the breeding period (disruption of courtship and territorial behavior, destruction of nests and predation of eggs and chicks). The “tameness” of Raphus and Pezophaps would have made them vulnerable to predation. As with most extinctions, no single cause can be cited as exclusively responsible; as such, most extinctions are multicausal and not single-agent events. It should be remembered that in order to cause the extinction of a species, all that is required is for it to be prevented from breeding. As is all too apparent in many individuals in zoos, stress can severely inhibit breeding behavior. The longer time to reach sexual maturity, relatively fewer individuals per unit area (due to larger body size) and small clutch size meant that Raphus and Pezophaps were less able to replenish a reduced population than their ancestors, despite their longer lifespan. Pezophaps survived longer, yet The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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was restricted to a smaller island. Its survival was probably due to a lower human impact (there were fewer visitors, and a permanent population was not established until later). More importantly there were no pigs, although rats were present. Their decline probably intensified with the increase in tortoise hunting. It is poignant that Leguat and his companions admired Pezophaps and even left the dates for them, at which Armstrong remarked, “Would that other early explorers of oceanic islands had been equally considerate in regard to the welfare of the birds they found on them!” (1953, 224).

Although the dodo and solitaire are now known to belong to the order Columbiformes, and within that assemblage to be most closely related to Caloenas, Goura, and Didunculus, they were previously placed with a number of different groups, ranging from ratites to penguins to rails. The following is a summary of the history of their classification. Transcriptions and translations of some of the diagnoses of taxa used in the classifications exemplified below are given in “The Dodologist’s Miscellany.” A more comprehensive classification list is also provided in that website. Early on, Raphus was considered to be an exotic bird. Clusius (1605) named it Gallinaceus Gallus peregrinus (strange or exotic gallinaceous hen) and placed it between the cassowary and the penguin, both flightless, in his account. Following from this, Nieremberg (1635) placed the dodo between “De turture Indicâ seu cocotzin” and “De coturnicibus Indicis.” Plinius Secundus (1650) placed it between the “Uwara Piang” and the “Rabos Forcados” in his description. Jonstonus (1650) allocated the dodo to the “Exotic Birds, Especially American . . . The Exotic Terrestrial Birds,” between the groups of birds “Tzinitzian,” “Totoquestal,” and “Ave Montana & Longa,” and “Ceoan,” “Cenotzqui,” and “Pauxi.” Walter Charleton (1668) put the dodo under the heading “Exoticæ Rariores” “Inter Exoticas Terrestres censentur [Determined as being among exotic terrestrials].” Holme (1688), following the classification system of John Wilkins (1668), divided the birds up into eight “Classis or Orders.”20 The dodo was placed under the “Exotic Birds, such as have Shapes contrary to other Fowles,” along with the toucan, “rhinocerot” (hornbill), bird of paradise, ostrich, cassowary, “emew” and “lagopus.” Klein (see Bomare 1775) classified birds according to their feet, into eight groups. The dodo was included in the fourth division of Savérien (1778): fissipede birds with three digits in front and one behind. Klein further subdivided the group, placing the dodo among those that have the lower part of the legs naked.

Classification and Taxonomy

Ratites Being large and flightless, the dodo was often placed with the ratites. Bontius’s (1658) description of the dodo preceded that of the cassowary. The classification used in Willughby’s Ornithologiæ (1676) was based on that which Willughby had supplied for Wilkins (Mandelbrote 2004). Willughby (1676) placed the dodo with the “Land-Fowl” with “more streight Bill and 316

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Claws” of the “Greatest kind; which by reason of the bulk of their bodies and smalness of their Wings cannot fly at all, Exotic Birds of a singular nature” (Ray 1678, 55), following the cassowary, with the ostrich and rhea. John Ray placed the dodo in the group described as “Aves Rostris rectioribus minúsque hamatis maxime, singulares & sui generis, ob corporum molem & alarum brevitatem volandi impotes [Birds with big beaks straight and less hooked, singular and of their own genus, unable to fly on account of their body of large mass and short wings]” (1713, 36) with the ostrich, rhea, and cassowary. Paul Heinrich Gerhard Moehring (1752) was the first to apply the currently used generic name of the dodo, Raphus (see chapter 4). In his “Classis III. Brachypterae” he placed Struthio, Rhea, Cela, Raphus and Otis. Linnaeus (1758) classified the dodo as Struthio cucullatus (hooded ostrich) in the order Grallæ. J. C. Valmont de Bomare called the dodo a “species of ostrich” (1768, 467). He later, under the heading “Cygne capuchonné,” remarked that it was “in Mauritius a species of swan” (1775, 2:430). Afterwards, he stated that the dodo was the sole member of its species (“seul de son espece”) and “that some looked on it improperly as a species of ostrich of the East Indies” (2:519). Buffon (1770) placed the dodo, solitaire and bird of Nazare as following the ostrich, rhea (touyou), and cassowary. In the 1776 German edition the solitaire was considered to probably be a distinct species of Didus, but the “Nazarvogel, however, would probably have to remain under the Dodo, of which it might be at most an alteration” (186). Pennant classified the dodo as genus 56 of Order VI, the Struthious birds, noting that “Struthious is a new coined word to express this order; for these birds could not be reduced to any of the Linnaean divisions” (1773, 38). Gmelin (1788) was the first to formerly apply a scientific name to the solitaire and bird of Nazare, designating them Didus solitarius and D. nazarenus respectively. Didus was positioned between Struthio and Pavo, in the Gallinae. Cuvier (1798) initially placed the dodo with the ostrich, cassowary and rhea in the “gallinacés” (Gallinæ), but later changed his mind (see below). Vigors remarked, “many chasms which occur in the chain of affinities throughout nature may be accounted for on the supposition of a simiar extinction of a connecting species. Here we have [in the dodo] an instance of the former existence of a species that, as far as we can now conclude, is no longer to be found; while the link which it supplied in nature was of considerable importance” (1825, 484–485).21 Vigors considered the dodo a gallinaceous bird of “Struthious structure” and forming an osculant or joining taxon between the Struthionidæ and Crax. Duncan thought that the dodo “may be placed however near the Emeu in Cuvier’s ranks of Gallinæ” (1828, 558). Strickland (1844) described a family of struthious birds comprising the dodo, solitaire, solitaire of Bourbon, oiseau bleu and oiseau de Nazarette. Owen (1845) placed the dodo in the Order Cursores, with the “Struthious or Wingless Birds.” He noted the differences between the dodo and vultures, but remarked on the similarity of the breadth of the skull and interorbital region and small size of the orbits to Apteryx, and the position of the nostrils (provided with a scale) to Rhea, and the naked cere to Apteryx, Struthio, The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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6.16.  Schlegel’s reconstructions of the dodo and solitaire (Schlegel 1854b, 338, 344). His picture of the solitaire “is vitiated by his mistaken belief in the Struthious affinity of the Dididæ” (Newton and Gadow 1896, 891).

and Rhea. He compared the “sudden elevation of the forehead” of the dodo very favorably with Apteryx. However, he added, “the upper mandible was hooked at the tip as in the Vultures, and the entire beak compressed and resembling upon the whole more that of the Raptorial than the known existing Struthious birds” (Owen 1845, 342). Schlegel (1854a, 1854b) considered the dodos to be related to the ostrichlike birds, but distinguished from them by the presence of a well-developed hallux. Schlegel noted that although most ratites lack a hallux, Apteryx has a small one. He also noted that the number of toes is variable within families and that the form of the head can differ greatly. He recognized at least five types of dodo (figs. 4.25, 4.32, 6.16), inhabiting Mauritius, Réunion, and Rodrigues: the common dodo (Didus ineptus), the dodo or solitaire of Bourbon (Didus apterornis), the great dodo of Rodriguez (Didus solitarius), the small dodo of Herbert (Didus herbertii), and the small dodo of Van den Broecke (Didus broeckei). The latter two are in fact referrable to Aphanapteryx: Didus herbertii, thought to be from Rodrigues, was based on Herbert’s illustration and Leguat’s description and Didus broeckei, thought to be from ?Mauritius, was based on Van den Broecke’s illustration and Cauche’s description. He considered Pezophaps minor of Strickland synonymous with D. herbertii. Schlegel (1855) reiterated that the dodo was an ostrich-like bird, and that the characters of its bones had led to false conclusions because the “great law of the monotonousness” in the morphology of the bird skeleton had been ignored. Even after Reinhardt’s and Strickland and Melville’s findings, Schlegel maintained his view that the dodo was related to the ostriches, and that it was “very improperly arranged among the pigeons, thanks to certain modifications in some parts of the skeleton, and even brought closer to Didunculus, probably because of one of these coarse analogies, such as exist, for example, between the sloths and the monkeys” (1873, 3–4). Wagner (1847) considered that the dodo should be placed among the short-winged birds (Kurzflüglern), which included the ostriches and kiwi, albeit as an abnormal one. Burmeister (1849) noted that the dodo was thought to be related to the kiwi, in a family of Currentes tetradactylae, having four 318

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toes and nostrils at the end of the beak. He added, however, that on elucidation of the skull morphology this was shown to be not the case. Clark mentioned the dodo “of which the skull of one specimen and the foot of another exist in England, proving the bird to have been of the Ostrich family, and widely different from any species now existing” (1859, lxxvi). Gallinae The dodo was also placed among the chicken-like birds, the Gallinae. In his catalog, Tradescant (1656) placed the dodo bewteen Fulica and the “White Partridge.” Linnaeus (1766) placed the dodo (Didus) at the head of the Gallinæ, immediately before Pavo – the preceding order, Grallæ, having ended with Struthio. In a comment in Histoire naturelle de Pline traduite en françois [Natural history of Pliny translated into French], it was suggested that the “trago-pan, or rather the trago-paon . . . is an unknown bird to Europeans. It is perhaps a kind of dodo, or bizarre turkey” (Anon. 1772, 140). Having compared the Pezophaps bones sent to him by Desjardins (which he thought belonged to the dodo) with the Tradescant and BM dodo specimens, Cuvier concluded that the dodo was a gallinaceous bird (“parmi les gallinacés”), although he noted differences between the bones. “The sternum offers a projecting keel, which distinguishes it from that of the cassowaries and the ostriches, where one sees hardly a median projection; its anterior angle is very blunt and this character brings the bird closer to the gallinacés; the shape of cranium also brings it closer; the tarsus offers the projections corresponding to the three digits and the thumb” (1830, 124). The cranium agreed in form and he attributed it to the dodo, but the tarsometatarsus was more elongate (Cuvier 1831). From these comparisons, Cuvier determined that there was a second species, slightly different from the first (De Rienzi 1837). He considered the cranium, sternum, humerus and femur to be like those of the gallinacés, but stated that if “it was found that the solitaire was really a different species from the dodo, and that the bones in question had belonged to it, this classification would be valid at least for this species” (Cuvier 1836, 408). Wiegmann (1836) placed the dodo in his “Gallinacei,” noting that it was probably a chicken-like bird (Hühnervogel), a transitional form with the ostriches, and that Leguat’s description of the solitaire agreed with a chicken-like bird or Hühnerstelzvogel (Gallinogralle). Toussenel regarded the dodo as nothing more than “a tetradactyle runner without wings to which nature had given it the mission of being held at the extreme point of its kind to make a counterpart to the ostrich and to operate the rallying of the extremes” (1859, 497). He placed it in his order Dromipédie (Gallinacés), on its own in the series Aptérigradie. Inepti Illiger (1811) created the family Inepti for the dodo, within the Order Rasores. It was placed as the last group of this order, which immediately preceded the Cursores, of which the first genus was Casuarius. The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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Bonaparte, who included ichnotaxa among the zootaxa, made the Inepti an order of the Altrices. Within the Inepti were placed the Dididæ, containing the Æpyornithinæ and Didinæ, and the Ornithichnitidæ. The Dididæ contained the taxa Ornithaptera borbonica, Didus ineptus and D. nazarenus, Pezophaps solitaria, Cyanornis erythrorhyncha and C. bonasia. He had previously stated that he was “convinced that the Dodo was neither a vulture for [sic] an ostrich” (Anon. 1847, 747), but thought that it was not a pigeon either – he considered it to be equally like the Gallinaceæ. The gastrolith “did not prove it a pigeon” and the sternum “resembled more that of gallinaceous birds or even the struthious than that of the Pigeons” (Anon. 1847, 747). Swans The dodo was compared to swans by Van Warwijck’s crew (see chapter 1), presumably leading Nieremberg (1635) to name the dodo “Cygnus cuculatus.” Penguins, Auks, and Albatrosses The dodo was also compared to penguins by Van Warwijck’s crew (see chapter 1). Cuvier mentioned in a note at the end of his section on Brevipennes: “I then place in this table species likewise badly known, or even not very authentic, as those which make the genus didus. . . . the dodo (didus ineptus) . . . The beak does not appear without some relationship with that of the auks [pingouins22], and the foot would resemble that of the penguins [manchots] well enough, if it were webbed” (1817, 463). Blainville reported, at the meeting of the Académie des Sciences of August 30, 1830, that the dodo “must be placed among the Palmipèdes, beside the penguin [Manchot].” He believed, moreover, “that the various anatomical specimens that one has of the Dodo, prove, by their differences, that there were several species” (Cuvier 1830a, 124). Owen noted, “The [Oxford] beak resembles that of the Penguin or Albatross rather than that of a Vulture, to which it has been compared. The [BM] foot would resemble that of the Aptenodytes, if it were webbed, which however it is not nor has been. It is very similar to, but proportionately stronger than, the foot of the Curassow [Crax]” (1835–1836, 269). Dumont (1819) thought that the lines and inflections on the maxillary rhamphotheca of the dodo were similar to those of the auks (pingouins) and that the webs of the feet of the specimen supposedly brought to Europe in 1598 might have been eaten away by insects. Daudin had even regarded the dodo as a badly described penguin (manchot [Cuvier 1836]). Keferstein mentioned the dodo under his section on fossil swimming birds (“Foßile Schwimmvögel”), but added that the dodo “seems to have been related the vultures; probably one had designated two different birds with the name Dronte [Dodo]” (1834, 246). It is of note that a specimen of the head of an albatross in the museum of the Royal Society, and also one in the Ashmolean, were thought by some to be the head of a dodo. 320

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Vultures and Raptores At the meeting of the Académie des Sciences, Paris, of July 12, 1830, Blainville proposed that the dodo was neither a gallinaceous bird nor a penguin, but a vulture (Anon. 1830). Cuvier noted that for three years Blainville had been occupied in determining the systematic placement of the dodo, for which study he received sketches of the Tradescant specimen. Blainville thought that the dodo lived mainly on fish, and that a diet of flesh gave its meat a bad taste (1830). He stated that the dodo was similar to the ostriches and had relationship to the gallinacés, but displayed characters differing from those groups and resembling the vultures, especially the long hooked beak, indicating a bird of prey rather than a granivore (Cuvier 1836). From examination of a cast of the Tradescant head, Blainville confirmed his opinion that the dodo was an enormous flightless walking vulture. Blainville’s reasons for allocating the dodo among the birds of prey, beside the vultures, were these: 1) eyes situated in the same part of the bill as in Cathartes; 2) nostrils oval, situated far forward and without upper scale; 3) form, size and color of the beak similar to Vultur papa (Sarcoramphus of Strickland); 4) form of the skull, interorbital width, flatness of sinciput, as in V. papa; 5) color of the bill, presence of caruncular ridges; 6) hood similar to that of Cathartes; 7) the near complete nudity of the neck, in addition to its greenish color seen through the few downy feathers which cover it; 8) number and disposition of toes, form of claws; 9) tarsal scutellation; 10) form of crop and gizzard; and finally, 11) lack of tarsal spur (Blainville 1835). Blainville noted that the developed carina of the sternum indicated that the dodo was not a gallinaceous bird, but one with powerful flight muscles (Audouin et al. 1830), although he was doubtful that the bones sent to Cuvier were from the dodo (Cuvier 1830). Cuvier replied that the dodo was flightless, yet still had thick muscles on the breast (1830). John Gould, following examination of the Tradescant head and foot, was persuaded initially that both came from the same bird, and then that it belonged to the vulturid family of the raptors. Duncan informed Blainville of Gould’s opinion by a note enclosed in a letter from Gould to Duncan, dated November 29, 1834. Gould later concluded affinity with pigeons (see below). Geoffroy St. Hilaire noted, “there is not between the opinion of Mr. Cuvier [that the dodo was related to the gallinacés] and that of Mr. de Blaiu­ ville [sic; that the dodo was related to the vultures], as much difference as one could believe; because the gallinacés, by their structure and some of their practices, approach the vultures enough, and one can admit that the Dodo was placed between one and the other so as to still better establish the connection” (Cuvier 1830a, 125). He also stated that the dodo’s relationship to the vultures was disproved because witnesses noted that the breast of the bird was fleshy (Froriep 1830). Swainson (1835, 1836) placed the dodo among the Raptorial order – birds of prey – as the “rasorial type of the vulture family” (1835, 112). Regarding the secretary bird, he remarked that it should not be placed between the Strigidæ and the Dididæ as might be supposed. Swainson (1837) positioned

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6.17.  Swainson’s classification diagram including Dididæ (Swainson 1837, 200).

his Didinae in the Raptores (fig. 6.17). Murray, assisted by Swainson, noted that the dodo was a “Rasorial type of the order Raptores, its relation to the Rasores being only analogical” (1855, 103). Added to a copy of Eaton (1826) is a handwritten classification (fig. 6.18), placing the dodo with the vultures and near anseriform birds, similar to Swainson’s classification.23 In a somewhat confused manner, Lesson noted, The Dutch painting, so often quoted, seems to represent a bird manufactured from various parts, with the head of an albatross, the body of cassowary, the tail of an ostrich, the legs of penguins deprived of their swimming membrane. As for the remains of the museum of Oxford, only they attest to an obviously extinct species of bird, and its beak shape indeed approaches that of certain vultures, of the sarcoramphes by the cut, the rancancas by the nostrils; but it is more particularly the cassowaries, the emus, the nandus [rheas], that it resembles by the disposition of the bands of scales which cover the phalanges, and by the shape and the length of the digits, the thumb excepted. There is thus at least as much reason to admit the dodo among the struthionide birds as among gallinacés and vultures (1838, 74).

The French ornithologist La Fresnaye gave a summary of his classification of the birds of prey, which was to be used in d’Orbigny’s “Dictionnaire d’histoire naturelle.” In it, he followed Blainville’s placement of the dodo, making it a terrestrial vulture (1839 [see 1841]). André Marie Constant Duméril (see Fürbringer 1888) also placed the dodo near the Raptatores. Richard Owen also concluded vulture affinity for the dodo, stating, “Upon the whole, then, the Raptorial character prevails most in the structure 322

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of the foot, as in the general form of the beak of the Dodo, and the present limited amount of our anatomical knowledge of the extinct terrestrial Bird of the Mauritius supports the conclusion that it is an extremely modified form of the Raptorial order” (1846, 333). He spoke of the dodo “whether it be regarded as an aberrant Vulture or a modified Pigeon, according to the views entertained by Mr. Gould and supported, with new arguments, by Mr. Strickland” (Owen 1848a, 8). He did not make further comment on its classification, adding only this: “It need cause no surprise, since there are strictly aquatic and marine forms of birds deprived, by a low development and special modification of the wings, of the power of flight, if we should detect in other natural groups of birds aberrant forms similarly debarred from what seems to be the characteristic field of locomotion of their class” (Owen 1848b, 373). Gervais (1844) thought that the dodo had a relationship to the Gallinogralles, including the Kamichi (Palamedea cornuta) and Cariama, and the vultures. He considered the dodo and solitaire to belong to the same species, but not to be allied with the Cursores. Gervais and Coquerel remarked, “The comparative study of the sternum of the two species [Raphus and Pezophaps] shows us, moreover, that the difference was more than generic and consequently much more significant than it had been admitted so far. It is what explains how Cuvier, who saw part of the sternum of the Solitaire, could allot it to a Gallinacé, while Blainville, in his hypothesis based on the form of the head and that of the legs of the Dodo, brought the latter closer to the birds of prey, more particularly the vultures” (1866, 926). They concluded that “the Dodo does not appear to us to have been a true Vulturidé, but rather a particular form, constituting a distinct family allied to the Accipitres, mainly with those of The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

6.18.  Handwritten classification added to a copy of Eaton (1826). The “Didiadæ” [sic] is placed with the Falconidæ, Vulturidæ, and Strigidæ in a group adjacent to the Anatinae, Fuligulinae, Merganserinae, Phoenicopterinae, and Anserinae.

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the family of Vulturidés, as in certain Gallinacés and some waders, and which was, compared to ordinary birds, in a kind of halt of development affecting the apparatus of flight. . . . The pelvis of the same bird does not contradict its classification with Accipitres, though it presents undeniable analogies with that of the Gallinacés, certain pigeons, bustards and storks” (927). In contrast, Milne-Edwards remarked, “it would be difficult to suppose that there ever were frugivorous or granivorous vultures” (1866, 378). Inertes Temminck (1820) placed the dodo, together with Apteryx, in his order Inertes,24 following the penguins, at the end of his classification. The Belgian ornithologist Sélys-Longchamps (1842) placed his Inertes immediately before the Accipitres, the first family of which was the Vulturidæ. He noted that the beak of the dodo “that [he] examined in England recalls that of the Cathartes. Its foot resembles that of a Gallinacé, but it is the same among those of several Vulturidæ. In addition, the nature of its plumage and the nullity of its wings are found in the Struthiones. The head and the feet do not, nevertheless, have any analogy with those of Apteryx but Mr. Temminck associates them with his order of the Inertes” (1842, 256). In his family Dididées, within the Inertes, Sélys-Longchamps (1848a) placed Didus, Pezophaps, and also Apterornis, the latter comprising A. bonasia (Herbert’s “Hen”), A. cœrulescens (the oiseau bleu of Dubois), and A. solitarius (Tatton’s bird).25 Sélys-Longchamps noted, “I had adopted [1842] the opinion of those who regarded the Dodo as allied to the Vulture, by assigning to it, however, a higher rank in the classification, since I not only looked at it as a distinct family (Dididæ), but that I preserved, for it only, the order of Inertes of Mr. Temminck. Today I ask to still keep the same reserve, but while placing these Inertes following the order of the Pigeons and before Gallinacés, Struthiones and Alectorides to which it is connected by some characters” (1848b, 307–308). He added that there are “three or four other species which lived in the same regions and which, although allied to the Dodo, so as it seems, are moved away more from the pigeons by a higher neck and legs, as the Solitaire of Rodrigues” (308). Brande and Cauvin (1853) also suggested affinities with Apteryx, but gave no formal classification. Wading Birds Johann Friedrich Brandt (1848a) compared a cast of the Copenhagen skull with skulls of various birds, including examples from the following groups: Tinamidae, Rheidae, Struthionidae, Apterygidae, Anhimidae, Cracidae, Gallidae, Diomedeidae, Spheniscidae, Cathartidae, Ciconiidae, Threskiornithidae, Otididae, Haematopodidae, Burhinidae, Glareolidae, Charadriidae, Chionididae, Scolopacidae, Columbidae, Pteroclidae, Rallidae, Psophiidae, Gruidae, Cariamidae, Accipitridae, Sagittariidae, and Passeriformes. In summer 1846 he, along with Hamel, concluded that the dodo was a pigeon-like bird. He communicated the finding to M. Lichtenstein to inform the Berlin Natural History Society. However, in the late summer 324

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of 1847 he made further comparisons and concluded that the dodo was a running bird (Laufvogel), in the proximity of the wading birds, particularly the charadriids (charadrien) (Brandt 1848b). His conclusions were set down in a paper entitled “Der Dodo (Didus ineptus) und seine Verwandten.” Brandt found that the skull of the dodo showed greatest resemblance to the charadriids among the wading birds, and, to a lesser extent, the pigeons. However, there were also similarities with Chauna, Gruinae, Chionis, Scolopacinae, Porphyrio, Ciconia, Tantalus, Ibis, and Galliformes. The foot bones he found best agreed with Haematopus. The naked face he found similar to vultures, Tanatalus, Grus leucogeranus, Ciconia, Mycteria, and some Galliformes (Brandt 1848b). He found the tarsometatarsus, especially the hypotarsus (processus calcanei), similar to Gallus, the Tetraoninae, and Tinamus – as well as to Haematopus and Scolopax rusticola. Its shortness and breadth was similar to Casuarius and some moa. The pedal digit length compared with that of the tarsometatarsus he found most similar to Gallus, Tetraoninae, Perdicinae, Haematopus, and Chionis. Brandt thus regarded the dodo as closest to the wading birds, particularly the plovers (Charadriidae), forming a link between the waders and the ratites and pigeons (Brandt 1848a, 1848b). Brandt (1867) proposed the following arrangement (fig. 6.19): 6.19.  Brandt’s classification diagram (Brandt 1867, 253).

Fam. I. Alectoridae seu Gallinograllae (Palamedea, Psophia, Dicholophus, Otis). – Fam. II. Dididae (Columbi-Struthio-Grallae) (Didus). – Fam. III. Charadridae (Charadrius, Vanellus etc.). – Fam. IV. Scolopacidae – Fam. V. Herodii – Fam. VI. Rallidae (s. Grallatores subhydrobiae). Brandt (1867) thought that the dodo resembled the pigeons in the form of the head, feet and the presence of a sternal carina. However, he considered the pigeon-like characters of the head to be homologies shared with some charadriids, the cervical vertebrae to be similar to those of Apteryx, the sternal carina shared with wading birds, the pelvis most similar to that of the stork, the plumage, wings and tail to be similar to the ostrich-like birds, and the short, thick neck and the “awkward, ponderous” trunk similar to the anatids. As a result, he believed it improbable that the dodo was an abnormal pigeon or belonging to its own family (Dididae) within the Columbae. The keeled sternum and well-developed hallux excluded it from the ratites (Struthioniden). He considered that the dodo might represent its own order, but dismissed this on the basis that its relationship with wading birds would be diminished and that other groups would also have to be given ordinal status. He believed the dodo to be a beach or marsh bird, related to the wading birds (Grallae), with a beak that could be regarded as a modified bill of a charadriid (Regenpfeifer). He placed it closest to the Charadriidae, as an abnormal charadriid, exhibiting connections between the ratites and the pigeons, with closer relationship to the latter. Most of The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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6.20.  Newman speculated on the placement of the dodo, “It seems to me that a seventh group is wanting to fill the hiatus I have left blank [within the Grallæ], and that Didus possesses all the characters which the missing group requires” (1848, 2265).

his comparisons, however, were based on general resemblances, rather than shared derived characters and he also used information from the literature and paintings. Strickland and Melville countered that Brandt, only having limited material, had “mistaken analogy for affinity” (1848, 122). Wagler placed the dodo with the herons, noting that it possessed divided toes “and it thereby joins the wading-herons [Wadreigern] at first” (1830, 124). He added, “I have seen myself that foot of Didus ineptus that Reinh. Forster made gift of to the British Museum, and examined it with much attention. . . . In the same museum I have also seen the beautiful original Edward’s Didus. Its bill varies in shape between the bill of the Alca impennis and that of the preceding order albatrosses. . . . Apteryx and Didus themselves seem to be natural tribes, which behave to each other like Aptenodytes to Spheniscus (Briss.). In reference to the shape of the bill Spheniscus stands [analogous to] the Dodo, Aptenodytes [to] the Apteryx” (123–124). Rails Lüttschwager (1959a, 1959b, 1961), examining specimens of Raphus and Pezophaps at Kiel, in addition to contemporary illustrations and descriptions, argued that they belonged not with the pigeons, but with the rails (Gruiformes), and had particular similarities to Notornis (Lüttschwager 1959a, 1959b).26 He based his hypothesis on skeletal anatomy and external appearance. His case was not well presented – most of the characters he proposed linking Raphus and Pezophaps with the rails are the result of convergence due to flightlessness – extant island-dwelling rails showing a greater tendency toward flightlessness than living pigeons. He did not admit that these characters could be the result of convergent evolution: “It is hardly to be accepted that all these are features only of a parallel development, which arise in connection with decreased flight ability” (1959b, 144). According to Lüttschwager, comparative anatomy indicated that Raphus and Pezophaps were to be considered no more columbiform than any other group, noting that the accepted diagnosis of Columbiformes had to be widened in order to incorporate these taxa, which, “without change of the valid diagnosis allow themselves to be inserted much more easily into the order of the rails. If this view should not become generally accepted, then the Dodo birds have to be treated similarly to those few species which are close to the rails, however, are understood as a special order” (1959b, 147). Following this, Kuhn 326

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(1965, 1971) stated that Raphus and Pezophaps were formerly placed with the pigeons, but that at present they were regarded as probably related to rails (Rallenvögel). Lüttschwager’s placement was also followed by Mlíkovsky (1982, 1985), who placed Raphidae in the order Ralliformes. Olson, however, disagreed with Lüttschwager, stating that the characters he used were mostly those related to flightlessness and that both Raphus and Pezophaps displayed pigeon-like features, being “markedly columbiform” (1971, 70). Other Groups Ferdinand August von Ritgen (1828) created a number of avian groups into which he placed the dodo. These included the Stenotetradactyli, Ochteraptenodytes, and Mydalornithes. Pigeons Following examination of the Copenhagen skull (see chapter 5), Johannes Theodore Reinhardt advanced the idea in 1843 that the dodo was related to the pigeons:27 It was in 1843 that I came to the thought that the Dodo was an abnormal pigeon form; I soon convinced myself that this view was the only correct one, and started to prepare a work on this subject. In 1845 I was, however, assigned by my government a voyage around the world with a Danish warship; my work had to be thus put aside provisionally. Already before my departure I had, however, made known my opinion both to several Danish and foreign natural scientists, and [Richard] Owen will be able to find the proof that this is how matters stand. (Letter from Reinhardt to Albert Günther, translated from Owen 1867, 49)28

Reinhardt wrote to Danish and Swedish zoologists in 1845 of “the striking affinity which exists between this extinct bird and the Pigeons, especially the Trerons” (quoted in Strickland 1848, 41).29 Reinhardt noted the resemblance of the beak of the dodo to that of Vinago (= Treron), and even more so to that of Didunculus. Hugh Edwin Strickland became convinced, “from a minute and accurate comparison of the bones of the leg with those of other types,” that the dodo was a pigeon (Melville 1848, 70). Melville attested that Strickland had “arrived at the same goal [as Reinhardt], but by a different, but equally certain path” (1848, 70). Likewise, the American ornithologist and medical doctor Samuel Cabot independently classified the dodo as a “rasorial” bird, with strong similarities to pigeons such as “Vinago Capellei,” based on the head and feet, the large crop, the taste of the flesh, and the presence of a gastrolith, stating, “I think it very clear that the Dodo was a gigantic pigeon” (1847, 495). By the end of 1846 or the beginning of 1847 Strickland had “succeeded in convincing several naturalists” of the affinity of the dodo to the pigeons (Strickland 1848, 65). He reported at the meeting of the BAAS in June 1847 that the dodo “approaches greatly to the Trerons . . . and still more to the Didunculus” (Anon. 1848, 80). Strickland declared, “[I]n my opinion, was the Dodo, a colossal brevipennate, frugivorous Pigeon” (1848, 40). He recalled, The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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When I was at Copenhagen in 1845, Professor Reinhardt was then absent on a voyage round the world, but I was orally informed that he considered the Dodo to be intermediate between the Pigeons and the Gallinaceous birds. On subsequently examining the remains which we possess in Britain, I soon saw reasons for classing this bird even nearer to the Pigeons than I then understood it to be placed by Professor Reinhardt. (40–41)

Strickland’s hypothesis of the pigeon affinities of the dodo was based on the following characters: short rhamphotheca with naked facial region; rhamphotheca “strongly uncinate and compressed” with the lower mandible curving upwards and overhung by the upper; nostril placed about the middle of the beak, close to the base of the rhamphotheca and near the ventral margin, nostril oblique and overhung by soft, tumid skin; the “sudden sinking from the forehead to the beak” and the “rapid narrowing of the beak in front of the orbits”; width of the gape; tarsal scutellation; absence of tarsal spur; length of tarsus and expansion of digital pads; low articulation of hallux; relative lengths of the toes; lack of webbing of toes; short, blunt claws; large crop; presence of a gastrolith; only one egg laid; absence of a vomer and osseous nasal septum; long, narrow osseous nasal apertures; form of caudal facet of mandible; the oblique direction of the jugal arch; form of the palatines; presence of supraoccipital foramen; breadth and twist of the first metatarsal; oval transverse section of the tarsometatarsus; form of the hypotarsus; arrangement of hypotarsal canals. He concluded that the above characters “will warrant us in regarding the genus Didus as a very aberrant member of the family Columbidæ” (1848, 45). Strickland also thought that the Réunion solitaire and oiseau bleu were brevipennate birds, but did not comment on their classification. Strickland named the solitaire Pezophaps solitaria (see chapter 4) and considered it closely related to the dodo, its pigeon affinities including: diet, monogamy, only one egg laid, nesting behavior, altricial young, and various osteological characters. Melville concluded that the dodo was “a terrestrial representative of the Treronine group, just as Geophaps is a less terrestrial member of the ordinary Columbine subtype” (1848, 101) and that “the Dodo and Solitaire belong to the same extinct subfamily [Didinæ] of the Columbidæ . . . We regard the Dodo, and its affine the Solitaire, as territorial flightless modifications of the Treronine sub-type, but with no immediate affinity with the other ground Pigeons, as Goura, Calœnas, &c.” (119). Following Strickland and Melville (1848), another author posited an “alliance of the genus Didus with the Columbidæ, through the genera Treron, Verrulia and Didunculus” (Anon. 1848b, 470). Not long before the 1847 meeting of the BAAS, Melville showed John Gould the dissected Tradescant head and several pigeon skulls, “when their similarity of form was so apparent that I [Gould] became a convert to its Columbidine affinity” (Strickland 1848, 65). George Robert Gray was also converted: “I had formerly considered that this subfamily formed part of the order Struthionidæ, but M. Reinhardt’s idea of the type being a pigeon having been so ably proved by the careful investigation bestowed on the head and foot by H. E. Strickland, Esq., and Dr. Melville, I am now induced to place this remarkable subfamily among the Columbæ” (1849, n.p.). However, others were not convinced: “Mr. Philip Duncan stated that

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the notices of the habits of the Dodo were quite opposed to the notion that it was a pigeon. It was evidently not a frugivorous bird, as when first taken its flesh was so distasteful and smelt so badly that no one would attempt to eat it. He believed it a bird sui generis” (Anon. 1847, 747). Titian Peale (1848) gave the name Didunculus (“little dodo”) to the newly discovered tooth-billed pigeon of Samoa, thus supporting pigeon affinities for the dodo. In 1864 the first specimens of Didunculus arrived in Britain, highlighting the similarities between it and the dodo. Richard Owen gave Didunculus the vernacular name of “dodlet” or little dodo. Bonaparte (1853) although including the Dididæ in the order Columbæ, included within it the Epyornithinæ (elephant birds) as well as the Didinæ. He later (1854) placed the Dididae, containing the Epyornithinae and Didinae, in the order Inepti, immediately preceding the pigeons. Reuss (1855) noted that the dodo probably formed a unique family close to the pigeons, a group with features similar to those of other groups (e.g., the beak of the vultures, wings of the ostriches), but which could not be incorporated into any of them. From examination of the Mare aux Songes bones, Owen (1867) also adopted the pigeon affinity of the dodo. However, Lüttschwager (1959b) suggested that Owen was under some obligation from Reinhardt, following the statement of the former (see above), to prove pigeon affiliation, although from the description it would appear that Owen was indeed convinced of the dodo’s pigeon affinity. Milne-Edwards (1866) noted the similarity of the osteology of the dodo to that of the pigeons, especially the femur, tibiotarsus, fibula and tarsometatarsus, but observed a dissimilarity of the sternum and pelvis to those of pigeons. He found the lower cervical vertebrae similar to those of Apteryx and the sternum similar to that of Rhea (the Nandou). He added that the terrestrial adaptions of pigeons did not resemble those of the dodo. He concluded, “I thus think, that in a natural ornithological classification, this bird [the dodo], while taking a seat beside the Colombides, cannot be regarded as a walker [i.e., terrestrial] pigeon; that it cannot enter the same family, and that it should be arranged in a particular division of the same value” (1866, 373–374). He added, “It is beside the family of the Colombides which one must place two currently disappeared birds. The Dodo and the Solitaire, which while presenting undeniable affinities with the pigeons, cannot be placed in the same family due to the anatomical particularities that they show” (1869–1871, 267). Newton and Newton considered that Pezophaps, based on its osteology, was to “some degree, and perhaps on the whole, intermediate between Didus and the normal Columbæ” (1868, 162). They concluded pigeon affinity for Raphus and Pezophaps, stating that the “most important distinctions between Pezophaps and Didus, as may be gathered from what we have already said, are on the whole such as not to remove the former further from the normal Columbæ than the latter” (1869, 349). They added, We had expected to have found that Pezophaps would prove to be a link between Didus and Didunculus; but this is not the case: the latter seems to be a perfectly distinct form, and, in our opinion, sufficiently isolated from other Columbæ to be considered the type of a separate family, in which light it has before been

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6.21.  Fürbringer’s “attempt at a family tree of the birds.” “I. Vertical view” (1888, taf. xxvii: “Max Fürbringer fec. Lith. Tresling & Co; Amst.”). Inset: “Horizontal (planimetric) projection of the family tree of the birds. II. Middle horizont.” (taf.xxixb).

regarded; but at the same time this family Didunculidæ must not be considered to be so aberrant as the Dididæ, which we look upon as the most remotely connected of the Order COLUMBÆ, consisting of three well-marked families of equal rank, (1) DIDIDÆ, (2) COLUMBIDÆ, and (3) DIDUNCULIDÆ, the first and last of which are only related to each other by means of the second, and have no direct affinity, however much superficial resemblance there may be between the beak of Didunculus and that of Didus. (349)

Fürbringer included the Dididae in the Columbae (figs. 6.21, 6.22) and placed within it Didus (two or more species in Mauritius and Réunion [see Schlegel]) and Pezophaps (one or two species in Rodrigues; perhaps only sexual differences). He remarked, Which of the living pigeon genera the Dididae stand next to, I am not able to decide. Against the more intimate relations with the Didunculidae, maintained from different sides, I must in addition, raise a decided ojection. Otidiphaps, to which newton brings attention, seems to provide a certain parallel there, however, in the length dimensions of the bones of the lower extremity . . . but it is lacking, as far as is known to me, still in every more detailed investigation of this interesting and, as by the way it seems to me, not very primitive pigeon genus. With Goura are found individual agreements, to which owen has already brought attention, but at the same time also a number of deviations, which are not favorable in direct comparison with the Dididae. (1888, 1284) 330

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6.22.  Fürbringer’s “attempt at a family tree of the birds,” continued. “I. Vertical view” (1888, taf. xxviii).

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331

Lydekker (1891) placed Didus and Pezophaps in the Dididae and considered the latter to connect the former with Columbidae. Salvadori (1893) created the suborder Didi, comprising the sole family Dididae, within Columbae. Similarly, Shufeldt (1901) created the superfamily Didoidea, containing the family Dididae, within the Columbæ. Rudolf Martin (1904) separated Didus and Pezophaps into the respective families Dididae and Pezophabidae, on the basis of morphological characters (e.g., differences in the form of the spinal column, rib number, the development of the Proc. lat. coracoidei, sternum form). He constructed a figure of the family history of the pigeons (fig. 6.23), although stated that it was only a hypothesis based on anatomical evidence. He even thought that the Caloenidinae, which displayed a reasonable degree of terrestriality, had “a special development course, which would have to lead to the ratites” (1904, 338). Lambrecht, however, considered these differences to be insufficient to warrant familial separation and that they were simply the result of increased flightlessness. He stated, “I regard both forms as results of isolation and of the same stock. The different way of life and the different environment caused the form, and their considerable body size is no convergence feature, as martin assumes, but the result of the isolation of two closely related forms” (1933, 601). Killermann thought that Pezophaps, in form of the beak “shows relationship with the parrot pigeons (Treron), while the genuine Dodo belongs to the tooth pigeons (Didunculus)” (1915, 374). Carié noted, “Didus, which, together with Pezophaps of Rodrigues, forms the family of Dididæ, has only distant relatives, and even they are found [far away] on western Pacific Islands, Samoa with its Didunculus, New Guinea with its Goura” (1916, 107). Oudemans (1917b) characterized Raphidae as having a large head, enormous beak, naked face, very anteriorly placed nostril, hooked upper rhamphotheca, periodic thinness and fatness and very strongly pronounced sexual dimorphism. Hachisuka (1937a) created the taxon Victoriornis imperialis for his white dodo and placed his Réunion solitaire in the species Ornithaptera solitaria. The former he located with Raphus cucullatus in the Raphidæ, whilst the latter was put with Pezophaps solitaria in the Pezophabidæ. Hachisuka (1953) considered the differences between the dodo and solitaire as greater than genus-level and therefore proposed the following classification: Superfamily Raphidæ, Family Raphidæ (Raphus cucullatus, Victoriornis imperialis), Family Pezophapidæ (Pezophaps solitarius, Ornithaptera solitaria). As an alternative, he suggested the following: Family Raphidæ, Subfamily Raphinæ (Raphus cucullatus, Raphus imperialis), Subfamily Pezophapinæ (Pezophaps solitarius, Pezophaps apterornis [-solitarius]) He noted that if Ornithaptera should be merged with Pezophaps, then the specific name apterornis should be used. He did not regard the dodo as closely related to Didunculus, considering the latter to be merely an aberrant 332

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6.23.  Martin’s (1904) “probable family tree of the Columbiformes. The ending of the branches indicates the terminator point of the past development and not the names” (Martin 1904, fig.V4).

ground pigeon. He thought Goura was probably the dodo’s closest relative. Hachisuka diagnosed the genera as follows: Raphus, “Mandible narrow and strongly hooked in both sexes; edge wavy and not straight; moults; gape turned down; tip of lower mandible turned upwards; upper mandible ornamented with horny serration in both sexes. Tail greatly curled, position varies greatly from the upper back to the tail vertebræ according to the season”; Victoriornis, “Mandible is broad and tip is rounded, edge straight from the tip to the gape. Upper mandible has no horny serration, but is ornamented with coloured bands. Tail-feathers arched, barbules loose but straight. Position of tail constant”; Pezophaps: “Bill slender and straight, tip is narrow and compressed laterally. Tail is short and not conspicuous”; Ornithaptera, “Bill thick and blunt at the tip. Tail full and hangs down like a tuft” (1953, 45, 46, 47). The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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6.24.  Fjeldså’s (1976) dendrogram of the phylogeny of Columbiformes (after Fjeldså 1976, fig. 18).

Verheyen placed Raphus and Pezophaps in the tribes Raphini and Pezophabini respectively. These he included in the Raphinae, which, along with the Goürinae and Caloenidinae, constituted the Caloenididae. He was among the first to recognize the true affinities of Raphus and Pezophaps: The hypothesis according to which the Dodo would be related to the Colombars (Ducula), to the green Pigeons (Treron, Sphenurus) or to the Pigeon with the beak of a parrot (Didunculus strigirostris) is to be abandoned. Setting aside modifications marked out for the scapular girdle and the arm, the skeleton of Raphus cucullatus shows more similarity with that of Caloenas nicobarica (same osteometric indications: femur / tibiotarsus, femur / tarsometatarsus, pelvis width / femur length; even rachidian [= vertebral] formula; presence of a distinct exostosis at the base of the first metacarpal and of the radial crest; position of supraoccipital foramen; aspect of the pterygoids, for example). (1957, 30)

He added, “The family of Caloenididae separates from the remainder of Columbiformes by the rachidian formula: 13 (+ 2) – 3 – 15 to 17 – 6 to 7 (+ 1), by the composition of the notarium: 1 VC + 2 VD, by the type of the wing secondary (unknown for Raphinae) and by the tendency towards the regression of the forelimbs: Caloenidinae → Goürinae → Raphinae, by the preacetabular part of the pelvis longer than the opposite part” (31). Storer thought that due to the independent evolution of Raphus and Pezophaps, they “must be placed in separate monotypic families, the Raphidae and the Pezophapidae, respectively” (1970, 370). Carié (1976) thought that the closest living bird to the dodo was Didunculus. Fjeldså (1976) tentatively placed Raphus in a group with Goura and Microgoura, following a preliminary comparison with columbid skeletons (fig. 6.24). Murton stated that the “gruiform line diverged early from the stock that eventually produced the Columbiformes and the Charadriiformes, so if closer to the Gruiformes [as Lüttschwager proposed] the dodoes would be closer to the presumed pigeon ancestors, rather than, as usually believed, relatively recent offshoots from established Columbae stock” (1974, 68). Cracraft (1981) placed Raphus and Pezophaps within Columbidae, as allocating them to a separate family would imply sister group status, for which there was no evidence. This was followed by Brom and Prins (1989), whose feather studies suggested that the dodo was closer to pigeons than rails, and Kitchener (1993a). Likewise, Olson (1985) considered the dodo

6.25.  Cracraft’s (1981) classification (according to Janoo 1996, fig. 6). 334

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and solitaire as not differing from pigeons except in the characters related to flightlessness and as such he did not consider the family Raphidae to be valid and included Raphus and Pezophaps in Columbidae. Feduccia (1996), who thought the dodo and solitaire to be most closely related to Didunculus, also supported merging “Rhaphidae [sic]” into Columbidae. Janoo (1996) considered the monophyly of Raphidae (Raphus and Pezophaps) valid, but noted that its placement within Columbiformes was unresolved. He later (2000) presented a cladogram that supported monophyly of Raphidae (contra Storer 1970) and placement of the family within Columbiformes. He also stated that “recognition of raphid monophyly would justify the merging of Pezophaps Strickland, 1848 into Raphus Brisson (1760) as advocated by Livezey (1993)” (2000, 327). However, it is not clear why this is the case. In a later work he abandoned the family Raphidae and placed Raphus and Pezophaps in Columbidae, noting, Family rank status given to the dodo R. cucullatus and the solitaire P. solitaria from the nearby Rodrigues Island implies a sister-group relationship with the Columbidae and a common ancestor. The logical approach is to identify their sister taxa within the Columbidae since they are both derived from columbine ancestors that have evolved independently. . . . The hierarchical ordering of taxa ensuing from a phylogenetic analysis indicates that the family Raphidae is no longer valid, and should be subsumed into the family Columbidae. (2005, 177)

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6.26.  Janoo’s cladograms of columbiform phylogeny: a) strict consensus of 800 MPTs; b) Nelsen consensus (after Janoo 2000, figs. 3, 4, respectively).

335

Worthy also included Raphus and Pezophaps in the family Columbidae, along with Natunaornis: “As they [Raphus and Pezophaps] are not demonstrably monophyletic (Livezey 1993) and differ from other pigeons mainly in features associated with large size and flightlessness, or feeding specialisations, I follow Kitchener (1993) and include them in Columbidae” (2001, 791). Based on a comprehensive phylogenetic analysis (see below for details), Livezey and Zusi (2006, 2007) confirmed the monophyly of Raphus and Pezophaps (fig. 6.27), although they still retained the family Raphidae. From the foregoing, a general trend can be seen, from placement of the dodo within Columbidae (e.g., Strickland and Melville 1848) to separating it in a distinct family, Dididae or Raphidae, and then back to inclusion within Columbidae.

6.27.  Livezey and Zusi’s cladogram of Columbiformes (after Livezey and Zusi 2007, fig. 16).

Current Classification The classification advocated here is as follows: Superorder Psittacimorphae (Huxley 1867) Order Columbiformes (Garrod 1874) Suborder Columbae (Latham 1790) Family Columbidae (Illiger 1811) Subfamily Gourinae Gray 1840 Tribe Raphini Verheyen 1957 Raphus Brisson 1760 from Moehring 1752 Raphus cucullatus (Linnaeus 1758) Pezophaps Strickland 1848 Pezophaps solitaria (Gmelin 1788) Taxonomy and Systematics See also chapter 4. For a list of junior synonyms of Raphus cucullatus and Pezophaps solitaria, see “The Dodologist’s Miscellany.” Moehring’s work was published in 1752, before the 10th edition of Linnaeus’s work (1758), but after his 6th edition of 1748. Sundevall (1857) considered Moehring’s work to be subordinate to that of Linnaeus. He noted that Moehring’s name Raphus was not Latin (i.e., “barbarum”) and that it lacked an etymological explanation.30 He rejected Raphus and thought that Linnaeus’s Didus should prevail. Under the current International Code of Zoological Nomenclature (ICZN) rules, the official starting date of Linnaean nomenclature is December 31, 1758, the last day of the year in which the 10th edition of Linnaeus’s work was published. Thus, Moehring’s name predates this and is therefore not valid. The first use of the name after 1758 is by Brisson (1760) and, thus, the name should be cited as Raphus Brisson 1760. Linnaeus (1758) placed the dodo under Struthio, giving it the species cucullatus. However, he subsequently (1766) created a separate genus, Didus, for the dodo (see chapter 4). Buffon (1770) confused the Rodrigues and Réunion solitaires and ascribed Carré’s account to the Rodrigues solitaire. He was unsure as to whether the dodo, Rodrigues solitaire and bird of Nazareth belonged to the same species or three distinct ones. Avezac, writing on the dodo and the 336

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Rodrigues solitaire, noted that “these two names applied to two varieties of the same species, or to two species of the same genus” (1848, 71). On naming the solitaire, Strickland wrote, “I therefore propose to bestow upon the Solitaire the provisional generic name of pezophaps (from πεξος, pedestrian, and φάψ, a pigeon), in the confidence that future discoveries of the remaining parts of the skeleton will justify this denomination” (1848, 54). This was indeed the case. Melville noted the osteological differences between the dodo and solitaire and added, “The marked dissimilarity in external form between the Dodo and Solitaire, and the position of the caruncular ridge in the latter, together with the shorter beak, fully justify the establishment of another genus (Pezophaps) in the Didinæ, to include this lost form” (1848, 119). Bartlett (1851) assigned the larger bones of Pezophaps (now known to be male) to a new species, Didus nazarenus, and all the smaller ones (now known to be female) to Pezophaps solitaria. This was despite the name Didus Nazarenus having been previously given by Gmelin (1788) to a “phantom species,” based on Cauche’s account, as Bartlett himself noted. In all, Bartlett (1851) thought that there were formerly three distinct species of flightless birds on Rodrigues: one identical to the dodo (Didus ineptus), a second (Didus solitarius), and a third which was larger than the former two species (Didus nazarenus). He considered BMNH A1356 and A1357 to belong to the dodo and A1360 was attributed to Didus solitarius. The Paris tarsometatarsus and an Andersonian Museum tarsometatarsus he attributed to D. nazarenus. Bartlett (1851) thought that “D. nazarenus” was not mentioned at all by Leguat. Strickland (1853) held the belief that there were two “didine” species on Rodrigues: Pezophaps solitaria, described by Leguat and d’Heguerty, and a smaller taxon, Pezophaps minor, named by Strickland in 1852 (Strickland [see Jardine 1852]). The latter was based on female specimens in the ZSL collection (BMNH A1359, A1360), the left and right femora of the Andersonian Museum collection and a tarsometatarsus in his own collection (UMZC 415N). His reasons for this were partially in the fact that no bones of intermediate size had been recovered and thus the remains fell into one of the two categories. Strickland conjectured that P. minor had either become extinct before Leguat’s visit or was mentioned by him under the name “gelinottes.” He considered Didus nazarenus, based on Cauche’s description, to be a synonym of D. ineptus. The male specimens of Pezophaps he assigned to P. solitaria, due to the size of the tarsometatarsus, stating that since the solitaire of Leguat was longer in the leg than a turkey (Meleagris gallopavo), it must have had a tarsometatarsus of over 6 inches (152.4 mm) in length, which only the larger series of bones did. He also noted that the smaller bones did not belong to young birds as they showed the same signs of maturity as the larger ones. Bones found by Edward Newton (fragment of left humerus, left tarsometatarsus UMZC 633) and Frederick Barclay (right femur UMZC 632) in 1864, were assigned to Didus nazarenus, “the very large species of Dodo, which was so strangely confounded by Messrs. Strickland and Melville with the long-legged “Solitaire,” Pezophaps solitarius, Strickland (partim)” (E. Newton 1865, 153). Alfred Newton (1865a) likewise followed Bartlett (1851) in recognizing two species. The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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Later, further remains of Pezophaps, including specimens of intermediate size, were discovered by George Jenner, and this enabled Edward Newton to come to the conclusion that the bones were “all apparently of one species, but of two sizes, the difference in this respect being probably owing to sex” (E. Newton, letter to A. Newton, August 3, 1865 [see Newton 1865b, 715]). Alfred Newton, accepting this idea, wrote, “Mr Bartlett and myself were wrong in separating from the Pezophaps, or Didus solitarius, a so-called D. nazarenus” (1865b, 716). Milne-Edwards (1869–1871) and Owen (1871), however, continued to use P. solitaria and P. minor, although the latter later corrected his mistake (Owen 1878). The two species concept was followed by Noll (1889), who stated that the larger form was designated as Didus nazarenus or Pezophaps solitaria and the smaller as Didus solitarius or Pezophaps minor. However, he also stated, erroneously, that Pezophaps minor was synonymous with Apterornis bonasia Sélys-Longchamps, Didus herberti Schlegel, and Cyanornis bonasia Bonaparte. Oudemans (1917a, 1917b) noted that the three didine species were classified by most ornithologists into Raphus cucullatus, R. solitarius, and “Pezo­ phaps folitarius” [sic]. However, he considered the “White Dodo” to be distinct enough to warrant its own genus, Apterornis Sélys 1848 (Ornithaptera Bonaparte 1854). Thus, he recognized three taxa: Raphus cucullatus Linné, Apterornis solitarius Sélys, “Pezophaps folitarius” [sic] Gmelin. Lambrecht (1933) regarded Didus ineptus Linnaeus as a nomen conservandum, in opposition to the rules of priority. Livezey speculated, “Monophyly [of Raphus + Pezophaps] also might justify the submerging of Pezophaps Strickland, 1848 into Raphus Brisson, 1760; heretofore the retention of separate genera has been based on phenetic arguments (Strickland & Melville, 1848; A. Newton & Newton, 1869; Owen, 1872 [= 1871])” (1993, 281). However, there is little justification for this merger. Livezey and Zusi (2007) and Pereira et al. (2007) retained the taxon name Raphidae for Raphus + Pezophaps, and Cheke and Hume (2008) advocated retaining the subfamily “Rhaphinae” [sic] for Raphus and Pezophaps. A type specimen of Raphus has not been formally designated. However, Janoo gave the type locality: as “Mauritius, Plaisance, Grand Port (Lydekker, 1891); Mare aux Songes (Lambrecht, 1933)” (2005, 172). Gunther noted, however, that “any specimen which can be referred to the Tradescant period is to be valued as being the oldest type-specimen of its kind now extant in any museum” (1925, 345). Previous Analyses

Phylogenetic Placement and Evolution

There have been several attempts at elucidating the phylogenetic position of Raphus and Pezophaps. Ja noo 1997, 2000 In his thesis, Anwar Janoo (1997) conducted cladistic analyses utilizing both whole skeleton and solely coracoid complex characters. Janoo (2000) conducted a morphological cladistic analysis based on data from Verheyen (1957) and from his own data. Initially, 80 taxa were coded for 95 characters (soft tissue in addition to osteology). The strict consensus is shown in fig. 338

The Dodo and the Solitaire

6.26a. A second analysis utilized 46 taxa and 78 characters. Analysis of the first data set yielded 800 MPTs. Analysis of the second data set yielded 108 MPTs. Following three iterative weightings, 36 MPTs were obtained (Nelsen consensus; fig. 6.26b). Sh a piro et a l. 2002 A team from the Ancient Biomolecules Centre and Department of Zoology at Oxford University and the NHM undertook a molecular phylogenetic analysis of Columbiformes; mtDNA, which is usually better preserved than nuclear DNA, was extracted from the Tradescant specimen (see chapter 5) and a femur of Pezophaps from Caverne Bambara. Catharacta skua and Stercorarius parasiticus were selected as outgroup taxa. The ML tree for the combined rRNA and cytochrome b data showed Raphus and Pezophaps as sister taxa (fig. 6.28). They were placed as sister group to Caloenas. A molecular clock was also used to estimate divergence times of taxa (see below). Liv ezey a nd Zusi 2006, 2007 Livezey and Zusi’s analysis (2006, 2007) of birds (150 neornithean taxa, 2954 characters) also indicated the monophyly of Raphus + Pezophaps and their close relationship to Didunculus and Goura (fig. 6.27). Furthermore, it confirmed their placement within Columbiformes rather than any other avian group. Pereir a et a l. 2007 Pereira et al. (2007) conducted an analysis using 38 columbid genera (including the 12S rDNA and cyt b sequences of Raphus and Pezophaps from GenBank) and 8 outgroup taxa, utilizing both mitochondrial and nuclear DNA sequences (12S rDNA, cyt b, ATPCO3, ND2, COI, RAG-1, IRBP, FIB7). Apodiformes and Caprimulgiformes were used as outgroups. A Bayesian analysis was conducted using a Metroplis-coupled Markov chain Monte Carlo (MCMC) approach in MrBayes 3.1.2 (Ronquist and Huelsenbeck 2003). The tree was rooted with Struthio camelus. A second Bayesian analysis utilised a smaller data set of 1590 base pairs (only 12SrDNA and cyt b; fig. 6.29). Maximum likelihood and maximum parsimony analyses were also conducted, but the Bayesian consensus was considered the best hypothesis of columbiform phylogeny. Current A na lysis Data were collected from examination of specimens and the literature. 134 osteological, soft-part and behavioral characters were coded for 31 taxa (30 columbiform gernera plus a charadriiform) plus a hypothetical outgroup taxon. The data set was analyzed using a heuristic search setting under PAUP* 4.b10 (Swofford 1998). The results indicate that Raphus and Pezophaps belong within the clade Gourinae (fig. 6.30), a result similar to those of the molecular analyses. Dissimilarities between current results and those of the molecular analyses are probably due to convergent characters affecting taxon placement. For further details, including the data set, see “The Dodologist’s Miscellany.” The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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6.28.  Maximum likelihood tree resulting from Shapiro et al.’s analysis. Numbers above node (italic) are ML bootstrap consensus values, those below the node are Bayesian posterior support values (after Shapiro et al. 2002, fig. 1).

Evolution Historica l Concepts There was a concept in the mid-nineteenth century (e.g., Milne-Edwards 1869–1871) that the Mascarenes were formerly part of a larger landmass and that they provided the last refuges to the fauna of that landmass. Newton and Newton thought that Mauritius, Rodrigues, Réunion, and probably also the Seychelles were “connected to dry land, and that that time is sufficiently remote to have permitted the descendants of the original inhabitants of this now submerged continent to become modified into the many different representative forms which are now known” (1868, 165). Oustalet (1874) also thought that the Mascarene fauna was probably once more numerous and that the volcanic Mascarenes represented the remnants of a submerged continent. However, Buffon (1778), on the basis of the works of Commerson and others, stated that the Portuguese had found neither 340

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6.29.  The favored tree of Pereira et al.’s analysis: chronogram (after Pereira et al. 2007, fig. 5). Branch lengths in Ma, following data from table 6.8.

birds nor quadrupeds on Mauritius, and that they must have since been transported there (cf. Latham 1823). Likewise, due to the lack of terrestrial mammals on the Mascarenes, Milne-Edwards (1869–1871) concluded that the Mascarenes were not formerly connected to Madagascar. Oudemans (1917a) considered the Mascarenes to have been formed between 6.5 and 3 Ma, and to represent the summits of a sunken landmass (known as “Lemuria”), connected to Madagascar and the Malabar Coast, and that the Mascarenes became separate islands approximately 3 Ma. As a result, he thought that the three species of dodo recognized by him had been isolated for a long period. In support of this idea he stated that it was not possible that the giant tortoises could have arrived at the islands via the sea. Wallace countered this idea: “The fact that such perfectly defenceless creatures survived in great abundance to a quite recent period in these three islands only, while there is no evidence of their ever having inhabited any other countries whatever, is itself almost demonstrative that Mauritius, Bourbon, and Rodriguez are very ancient but truly oceanic islands”; “we may therefore be sure that these islands have never formed part of a continent during any portion of the time when the dodos inhabited them” (1880, 407, 409). The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

6.30.  Majority-rule cladogram resulting from the current analysis. 341

Searles V. Wood went on to suggest that “both the Dididæ and the Didunculus are survivors from mesozoic times, of a great family in which the characters which connect these ground birds with the winged Columbæ were those common to a large order of wingless birds that, like other orders of mesozoic life, have since perished” (1878, 301). He believed that the dodo was a survivor from the western part of a large submerged continent, and Didunculus from the eastern part. Grandidier and Grandidier remarked that the dodo “is a brevipennate bird characteristic of the Eocene fauna, to which belong Æpyornis of Madagascar, Dinornis of New Zealand, the Ostriches of Africa, Nandous of America and cassowaries of Oceania” (1904, 405). Reichenow (1881) thought that the pigeons (Girrvögel) constituted a group derived derived from the order Odontotormae, carinate birds with teeth set in alveoli. He believed that the pigeons were connected, via Didunculus, to the dodo, and that the latter probably had ancestors in the Odontotormae. Fürbringer (1888) believed that the Rhynchornithes were probably descended from the Odontornithes (toothed birds) and as such the earliest ancestors of the Dididae had teeth. He surmised that between these toothed forms and the Dididae were a long line of toothless birds, with the Dididae connecting these with the primitive Columbae. Noll (1889) thought that the ancestors of the dodo might have come from India. Vigors (1825) had earlier postulated that the dodo might have been originally “imported” into Mauritius and Réunion from Africa. Glenny (1954), however, noted that the dodo occurred not far from his presumptive center of origin for birds, Antarctica. However, the phylogenetic data (e.g., Shapiro et al. 2002; see below) suggest a dispersal of raphin ancestors from Southeast Asia (cf. Alectroenas, Psittacidae, Sturnidae [Cheke and Hume 2008]). Concerning Buffon’s idea of the degenerate nature of the dodo (see chapter 4), Charlton remarked, Buffon, who did not believe in a Creator, had the effrontery to denominate “a singular bird, all parts of which gave evidence of a failure of design.” And he adds that this imperfect character of the bird arose from the impatience of a newlyformed volcanic island, such as that which produced the Dodo, and leaves us to infer that a steady old continent would have produced a much better article!! (1863 [cf. Bory de Saint Vincent (1804)])

Owen (1867) also considered the dodo to be of degenerate and imperfect structure. He thought that the species was an example of Buffon’s origin of a species through degeneration, and, based on Lamarckian principles, he suggested that over generations the bulk of the dodo had increased, the wings atrophied, with an absence of predators and abundance of ground food, and that the hindlimbs had hypertrophied. He did, however, note that retention of the small wings of the juvenile pigeon was an immature character. Furthermore, Owen stated that being monogamous, with intraspecific combats perhaps being absent, and with no predators, the dodo might have fed and bred “in a lazy, stupid fashion, without call or stimulus to any growth of cerebrum proportionate to the gradually accruing increment of the bulk of the body” (1867, 70). However, he noted that the cerebellum, associated

342

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with muscle action, had increased slightly. He added that the “brain is singularly small in the present species of Didus: and if it be viewed as an index of intelligence of the bird, the latter may well be termed ineptus” (69). The extinction of the species he attributed to the introduction of predators from which the dodo was unable to escape, which he thought was concordant with the principle of “contest for existence” (80) – an agreement with Darwin’s ideas.31 Owen added, The Dodo exemplifies Buffon’s idea[1] [1 Histoire Naturelle, &c., 4to, tom. xiv. “Dégénération des Animaux:” 1760] of the origin of species through departure from a more perfect original type by degeneration; and the known consequences of the disuse of one locomotive organ and extra use of another indicate the nature of the secondary causes that may have operated in the creation of this species of bird, agreeably with Lamarck’s philosophical conception of the influence of such physiological conditions of atrophy and hypertrophy[2] [2 Philosophie Zoologique, 8vo, 1809, tom. i. chaps. 3, 6 & 7]. (1867, 80)

He later stated that in “assigning the origin of the species Pezophaps solitaria to the operation of a primary law, by way of direct creation of a primitive pair, the osseous tumour on the wrist of the male, and the fore pair of limbs in both sexes, framed on a pattern fitting them to exercise the faculty of flight and for no other kind of locomotion on land, but of too small a size for that end, are among the incidents of this ‘thaumatogeny,’ or inconceivable genesis” (1878, 95). As an alternative, he proposed the origin of Pezophaps by “a condition of the way of work of a secondary law suggested by Lamarck” (96). Likewise, Killermann supposed that each of the three Mascarenes was colonized by an original species (“Urart”), which evolved by “Lamark’s [sic] principle of functional adjustment in the negative sense” (1915, 378). He thought that the dodos carried “in their unsatisfactory organization the germ of death,” their degeneration being due to isolation and inbreeding. They had maintained their immature characters throughout their lives, which consequence led to their anthropogenic extinction. Peter Mundy (1638) was probably the first to postulate on the evolution of the dodo (see chapter 1). However, it was not until Cabot (1847) and Strickland and Melville (1848) that the importance of ontogenetic modifications in the evolution of flightlessness was noted, the latter describing the “gigantic immaturity” of the dodo. Cabot noted that “the bulging out of the lower mandible on its sides beyond the upper” was also seen in nestling pigeons, and that “According to Mr. Agassiz’s theory [“that embryonic forms of the present epoch resemble adult forms of some former epoch”], this is what we should expect” (1847, 491). He added that the “general shape, feathering, &c. [of the dodo] resemble more strongly the young, than the adult pigeon” (495). Strickland speculated on the dodo’s flightlessness: “A bird adapted to feed on the fruits produced by these forests [of Mauritius] would, in that equable climate, have no occasion to migrate to distant lands; it would revel in the perpetual luxuriance of tropical vegetation, and would have but little need of locomotion. Why then should it have the means of flying?” (1848, 40). Strickland also postulated that the low articulation of hallux in Raphus indicated an arboreal ancestry. This character is of uncertain significance,

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343

and in the related large flightless pigeon Natunaornis the articulation is high up. Following on from Darwin’s work, Newton and Newton commented, If such a process, therefore, as has been termed “Natural Selection,” or “Survival of the Fittest,” exists, there would have been abundant room for it to operate; and there having been only one species of Pezophaps might, at first sight, seem an argument against the belief in such a process. A little reflection, however, will show that such an argument is unsound. Confined in a space so restricted as one small island, every individual of the species must have been subject to conditions essentially identical in all cases. Whatever power such a process might possess, there would be neither occasion nor opportunity for its operation, so long as no change took place in the physical character of the island. (1868, 432) It therefore seems to be no argument against the existence of such a process as that of “Natural Selection,” to find a small oceanic island tenanted by a single species which was subject to great individual variability. Indeed a believer in this theory would be inclined to predicate that it would be just under such circumstances that the greatest amount of variability would be certain to occur. In its original state, attacked by no enemies, the increase of the species would only be dependent on the supply of food, which, one year with another, would not vary much, and the form would continue without any predisposing cause to change, and thus no advantage would be taken of the variability of structure presented by its individuals. (433)

Newton and Newton believed undoubtedly that Raphus and Pezophaps, “however much they eventually came to differ, sprang from one and the same parent stock” (1869, 358). Milne-Edwards thought that Pezophaps “seems, up to a certain point, to connect the Dodo to the normal Colombides” (1869–1871, 617). Commenting on the geographical distribution of flightless birds, Owen noted, “If the difficulty already be felt to be great in regard to the insular position of the Cassowary, it is still greater when we come to apply the hypothesis of dispersion from a single centre to the Dodo of the Mauritius, or the Solitaire of Rodriguez” (1850, 149). However, he gave no explanation. Strickland remarked, To expect a bird unable to fly or to swim, to recur, specifically identical, in the volcanic islet of Rodriguez, which is separated from Mauritius by three hundred miles [482.8 km] of ocean, would be contrary to those views of “Specific Centres of Creation,” which are now becoming generally adopted as zoological truths. On the other hand, the fact of the comparative proximity in geographical position of these two islands would lead us to expect in Rodriguez a recurrence of the same organic structures, but with specific or even generic modifications, which characterize the fauna of Mauritius. (1853, 187)

Wallace commented that islands were perhaps more favorable to pigeon development than continents, and noted, “The existence in the Mascarene Islands of a group of such remarkable terrestrial birds, with aborted wings, is parallel to that of the Apteryx and Dinornis in New Zealand, the Cassowaries of Austro-Malaya, and the short-winged Rails of New Zealand, Tristan d’Acunha, and other oceanic islands; and the phenomenon is clearly dependent on the long-continued absence of enemies, which allowed of great increase of bulk and the total loss of the power of flight, without injury” (1876, 334–335). He later elaborated, providing an evolutionary framework for the dodo: 344

The Dodo and the Solitaire

From what we know of the general similarity of Miocene birds to living genera and families, it seems clear that the origin of so remarkable a type as the dodos must date back to early Tertiary times. If we suppose some ancestral groundfeeding pigeon of large size to have reached the group by means of intervening islands afterwards submerged, and to have thenceforth remained to increase and multiply unchecked by the attacks of any more powerful animals, we can well understand that the wings, being useless, would in time become almost aborted. . . . It is also not improbable that this process would be aided by natural selection, because the use of wings might be absolutely prejudicial to the birds in their new home. Those that flew up into trees to roost, or tried to cross over the mouths of rivers, might be blown out to sea and destroyed, especially during the hurricanes which have probably always more or less devastated the islands; while on the other hand the more bulky and short-winged individuals, who took to sleeping on the ground in the forest, would be preserved from such dangers, and perhaps also from the attacks of birds of prey which may always have visited the islands. But whether or no this was the mode by which these singular birds acquired their actual form and structure, it is perfectly certain that their existence and development depended on complete isolation and on freedom from the attacks of enemies. (1880, 407–408)

Moseley considered the triad arrangement of head feathers in Raphus to be symplesiomorphic for pigeons: It seems probable that the two lateral feathers, in each group of three, are homologous with the pair of minute rudimentary feathers, termed filoplumes, which in the pigeons lie on either side of the follicle of each main-feather. It seems probable that in the dodo, and in the ancestral pigeons, the feathers were disposed in groups of three of nearly similar dimensions, and that in the course of development the lateral feathers of each group have been reduced to the rudimentary filoplume condition by the preponderance of the central main feather. (1885, 542–543)

He suggested the feature was lost in all other pigeons. However, this feature is now considered an autapomorphy of Raphus and the lateral feathers of the triads are not, in fact, filoplumes (Brom and Prins 1989). Lucas (1895) thought, in a Neo-Lamarckian way, that the exostoses of the wing of Pezophaps might have been generated by fighting injuries, causing diseased outgrowths, which then became an acquired characteristic. Oudemans (1917b) queried whether the large size of the dodo was primary or secondary, that is whether the ancestral columbids were large or small. He further wondered whether, if it was secondary, large size had been acquired before or after isolation (i.e., before or after the submergence of “Lemuria”). He suggested that the absence of rugostities of the beak in the adult “White Dodo” was a “larval” character, an “atavistic phenomenon” – a rugosity behind the rhamphotheca being present, he said, only in juveniles. This, he remarked, showed that the “White Dodo” was a younger species than the Mauritian one. He further stated that the forward-placed nostril, the extension of the mouth-slit beyond the eye and the small scutellae of the tarsus in the Mauritian dodo were reptilian features. He considered the dodos and solitaires to represent a group of the Columbæ exhibiting reptilian characters (Oudemans 1917b, 1917c, 1918a). Verheyen noted that Raphus and Pezophaps “decend from normal volant ancestors which lost the faculty of flight progressively, this being owing to the gradual augmentation of their size and of their weight (doubled The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

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gigantism by an inclination to obesity caused presumably by certain hormonal imbalances)” (1957, 30). Storer (1970, 1989) postulated that Raphus and Pezophaps had evolved independently from volant ancestors: As rafting of a large flightless bird between two such islands is extremely unlikely, we are left with the strong probability that these two birds were independently derived from flying ancestors. If this is so and if the morphological differences between the Dodo and a flying pigeon are sufficiently great to justify family status for the Dodo, then the equally distinct Solitaire, representing a separate phyletic line, must also be accorded family status, whether or not both were derived from the same flying ancestor. (1970, 369)

Olson, contary to Storer (1970), thought it “not unreasonable to assume that the Dodo-like birds of the Mascarenes were derived from a common columbiform ancestor which colonised all three islands before having lost the ability to fly and that these species are more closely related to each other than to any other known taxa” (1971, 70). Livezey argued that “hypotheses of monophyly, paraphyly and polyphyly [of Raphus and Pezophaps] should be given equal consideration” (1993, 281). Kitchener thought that the dodo probably evolved from African Treron, which “became stranded on the blissfully predator-free island of Mauritius” (1993b, 24). Staub (1996) also thought that the dodo and solitaire evolved from pigeons of the Treron group, “Treronidae,” and later (2001) suggested that the ancestor of the dodo was Treron calva. Staub speculated that the ancestor of the dodo ate high-energy palm fruits, “which may have induced in the Dodo an overtolerance which, through eons of time and in the absence of enemies, increased the body weight beyond lifting capacity. Gradual reduction of the wings followed, till the bird was permanently grounded” (1996, 112). Janoo remarked that the evolutionary sequence Columba-Treron-Didunculus-Pezophaps-Raphus was “quite familiar in the literature” (2000, 324), whereas Worthy noted that the “existence of Natunaornis shows that different lineages of pigeons can follow parallel paths of evolution towards large size and flightlessness in an insular habitat to those of anatids in New Zealand and Hawaii . . . and rails in many places. The Mascarene giant pigeons are no longer unique in this respect” (2001, 791). Shapiro et al. stated that it was “highly unlikely that the large genetic distance between the dodo and the solitaire resulted from isolation on the two islands” (2002, 1683) as they apparently diverged prior to the emergence of the islands. However, flightlessness can evolve rapidly and its associated genetic processes (such as neoteny) might have led to a large genetic separation in a relatively short time. Evolution of the R a phins Mauritius is around 8–10 Ma and Rodrigues is thought to be around 10 Ma (Cheke and Hume 2008). Réunion is much younger (2–3 Ma), and, furthermore, suffered major volcanism around 200,000 years ago, which would have killed off much of its fauna and flora. Mauritius was volcanically active until the last glacial, but on a much less devastating scale (Staub

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1993). Ridges around the Mascarene Plateau were emergent in the late Oligocene, but subsequently submerged. These may have provided “stepping stones” for the common ancestor of Raphus and Pezophaps. During glacial periods the sea level would have been lower, making the Mascarenes larger in extent: Rodrigues may have had an area of 1200 km2 during the last glaciation (Staub 1996; its present area is 109 km2). Cheke and Hume (2008) postulated that “proto-dodos” independently colonized Mauritius and Rodrigues from Nazareth or St. Brandon banks, which were formerly above water (31–35 Ma). An inaccurate determination of the age of Rodrigues as 1.5 Ma led Shapiro et al. to remark, The similarity between the timing of the dodo/solitaire divergence and the first geological evidence of land in the Mascarene island chain is striking and suggests that island stepping-stones may have been used before the two species eventually found their way to Mauritius and Rodrigues. Whether such dispersal was flighted or not cannot currently be determined, although the relatively isolated position and young age of Rodrigues would suggest that the solitaire, at least, may have retained a capacity for flight up until at least 1.5 Ma. (2002, 1683)

The origin of the common ancestor of Raphus and Pezophaps was in Southeast Asia, as opposed to Africa, as previously thought by some (e.g., Kitchener 1993b). The Mascarenes would have been colonized by vagrant birds blown by prevailing winds and probably reaching the islands via island “stepping stones,” many of which are now submerged. These colonists would probably have had great dispersal ability and long-distance vagrancy, such as is seen in Caloenas. Caloenas, an example of a “supertramp,” is a strong flier and travels long distances to and from islands (Gibbs et al. 2001). Cyclonic weather and southeast trade winds, blowing from Southeast Asia westward, might have aided this dispersal. Colonizers of new islands with no predators and superabundance of food are likely to be r-strategists, with rapid increase in population (Gould 1977). Gould suggested that progenesis should be common among such colonizers. This might have occurred during the early evolution of the raphin lineage, but once populations reached saturation then K-strategies would have been favored. A lack of competition would have allowed colonists to conserve energy and a lack of predators allowed escape strategies to be lost and this energy made available for other adaptations (Fuller 2002). Small-island endemic pigeons, especially supertramps, in tropical climates generally have lower basal rates of metabolism than their temperate continental relatives. Furthermore, the “reduction of basal rate in large columbids facilitates their long-term persistence on small islands characterized by a limited resource base and unstable weather” (McNab 2000, 309). Caloenas has a slightly lower basal metabolic rate (92%) compared with that expected for pigeons, although this might depend on its environmental circumstances (McNab 2002). Colonization of islands and flightlessness can also lead to a lower basal metabolic rate, more sedentary habits, and broadened ecological niches in birds (Livezey 2003). Furthermore, growth rates of tropical taxa are generally lower than those of temperate taxa (Livezey 1993). According to Livezey, following “initial colonization, isolated lineages possessed of the requisite life-historical qualities and (epi)genetic

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opportunities will undergo, to varying extents, changes in morphological and ecophysiological parameters during subsequent generations under the new selection regime” (2003, 460). A lack of predators and high intraspecific competition led to K-selected strategies, lowered basal metabolic rates, and altered niche widths (Livezey 2003). Lack of predators would have also been beneficial to a longer developmental period. Founder effects and intermittent genetic drift encouraged autapomorphies, increased niche breadth, and sexual dimorphism (Livezey 2003). The raphin ancestors became endemic and very autapomorphic and new habitats and niches were exploited. A small gene pool, related to a small founding population and restricted habitat space (due to being on an island) potentially might have led to increased individual variation and the dispersal of genetic defects, such as the exostotic and displastic osteological features seen in Pezophaps, throughout the population. It is not known when these genetic defects arose, but it might have been when the size of Rodrigues was reduced during interglacial periods, leading to a reduction in population size. Mauritius is larger than Rodrigues, and dodos lived in various habitats all over the island. As such, the available habitat area would have been greater. The effect of the absence of predators is apparent in the survival of individuals with pathologies (both healed fractures and genetic pathologies). This may also explain the wide osteological variation seen in Raphus and Pezophaps, as genetic variability was not lost due to predation. However, a reduction in the genetic variation of the founding and descendent populations, due to the founder effect, may also have occurred (cf. Livezey 2003). Insular birds often show a number of characteristics, such as rapid evolutionary modification, change in size, increased sexual dimorphism, reduced competitive ability, reduced fecundity, increased egg size, reduced growth rates, decrease in watchfulness and tendency to elusion (“tameness”), and pedomorphosis (Livezey 1992, 1993). Increased “approachability” and tolerance are features of endemic island vertebrates and probably occur with reduction in activity, energy expenditure and resource requirements (McNab 2002). Species that do not become wary of humans are more susceptible to anthropogenic extinction. Other changes occurring following colonization may include biparental care, competitive ability, and aggresion (Livezey 2003). There is a tendency of species colonizing islands to change in size to best adapt to the area and resources of the island. In the case of Raphus and Pezophaps this meant an increase in size, their ancestor probably being a relatively small volant pigeon. Small organisms are also more easily transported than larger ones, thus making island colonization easier. An increase in body size is generally linked to increased longevity and fasting ability; larger size enables more fat to be stored and territories to be defended more easily. An increase in size appears to have gone hand in hand with loss of flight, as gourines display a larger body size and lower flight capability than their sister taxa. Once flight was lost then body size could increase rapidly. As Cheke and Hume remarked, the ancestors of Raphus and Pezophaps “probably remained fairly normal smallish flighted pigeons until they reached the Mascarenes” (2008, 71). It has been suggested that

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“an increase in body size in insular species occurs principally in species that have feeding territories, thereby assuring them of sufficient resource levels” (McNab 2002, 695). Larger body size also aids digestion and fermentation in browsers, grazers, and perhaps also terrestrial frugivores (McNab 2002). This size increase would have been anagenetic, rather than cladogenetic (Livezey 1993). Feduccia noted, if there is not continued selection to warrant the energy expenditure in the embryogenesis of these complex structures, they will tend to be lost, whether they are muscles, bones, or feathers. Many of these adaptations, then, help the flightless bird save energy, both during embryogenesis and in adult life, by removing the burden of unwanted structures that hinder locomotion and by reducing the metabolic energy spent maintaining them. (1996, 258)

Advantages of flightlessness include lower energy expenditure and enablement of size increase, which in turn leads to further exploitation of terrestrial niches via increased terrestriality and feeding-related morphologies. Flightless birds generally have greater longevity, lower basal metabolic rate and lower body temperatures, greater ability for fasting and greater temperature range tolerance than volant species (Livezey 1993). Flightlessness is always associated with a pedomorphic reduction of the pectoral apparatus, suggesting that “paedomorphosis of pectoral apparatus (evo-devo pattern) is an adaptation (evolutionary process) for a more efficient use of energy both during embryogenesis and in adult life, which has been repeatedly selected in the ecological contexts which allow the acquisition of the flightless condition” (Cubo and Arthur 2001, 699). Pigeons are adaptable to flightlessness: many genera (e.g., Caloenas, Didunculus, Gallicolumba, Ptilinopus, Ducula) easily colonize islands and they have a generalized lifestyle and feeding. Particular preconditions of flightlessness (factors permitting flightlessness) of gourines include ground or low-level foraging, ground or low-level nesting, and an absence of volant migration (Livezey 2003). Factors promoting flightlessness in the lineages of Raphus and Pezophaps would have included an absence of predators. It has been assumed that flightlessness can occur in a short time, perhaps in only a few thousand years. Olson (1973) postulated that rails could become flightless in generations rather than millenia and Worthy (1988) showed that ducks can lose 10% of their wing length in 10,000 years, suggesting flightlessness can indeed occur in a very short time. The maximum ages of Mauritius and Rodrigues give upper limits on the time period required for flight loss in the lineages of Raphus and Pezophaps. The evolution of Raphus and Pezophaps was determined by heterochronic processes. Heterochrony (along with heteroposy and heterometry) is an aspect of “developmental reprogramming” (Cubo and Arthur 2001), and is an evolutionary change in the timing of developmental events or growth rate compared to the same events in ancestors. Developmental changes can occur in rate, onset time or offset time. Heterochrony can result in two morphologies: pedomorphosis and peramorphosis. Pedomorphism can be caused by reduced growth rate (neoteny), early termination of growth (progenesis), or delayed initiation of growth

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(postdisplacement). It is “the displacement of ancestral features to later stages of the ontogeny of descendants” (Gould 1977, 227–228), or, in other words, the retention of ancestral juvenile features in adult stages of descendants. Pedomorphosis in Raphus and Pezophaps was probably achieved by neoteny. Neoteny is the retardation of somatic development of selected organs, allowing juvenile characters to be retained (Gould 1977), although it does not necessarily affect all organ systems equally (Livezey 1995). Neoteny is also associated with K-selection “with delayed maturation linked to retarded differentiation and retardation of flexible juvenile morphology” (Gould 1977, 345). Progenesis, the truncation of ontogeny by precocious sexual maturation (due to acceleration of development), is here rejected as a mechanism for the evolution of Raphus and Pezophaps due to the long periods required before the young became independent and the assumed long periods before individuals reached maturity in those taxa. Progenetic organisms tend to be r-selected, whereas Raphus and Pezophaps were probably K-selected (see above). As Livezey noted, the “supposed role of regulatory genes in producing paedomorphosis .  .  . remains largely hypothetical and probably is overly simplistic. An understanding of the genetic bases of heterochrony in birds is crucial to an assessment of the evolutionary ‘ease’ with which the resultant conditions (e.g., paedomorphic flightlessness) arise” (1995, 185). The morphology of Raphus, in particular, has been compared with that of juvenile pigeons (Fürbringer 1888; Rungwe Kingdon [see Fuller 2002]). Pezophaps resembles juvenile pigeons in its osteology (reduced pneumatization, “smooth” or unsculptured bone surfaces) and plumage (feathers “neither feather, nor hair,” and lack of a developed tail). Presumably ontogenetic development was halted, at least in certain organs, before extensive pneumatization could take place, whereas in Raphus development continued, at least in some structures, resulting in increased pneumatization and, in some individuals, fusion of certain bones (e.g., the scapulocoracoid). According to Witmer (1990), connection between the air cells in the lacrimal and frontal occurs later in the ontogeny of many birds and obliterates the suture between the bones; this also occurs in Raphus, where these elements are inflated. The pectoral appendage develops late in birds (Livezey 1993), suggesting that the main reason for pectoral morphology in flightless birds is pedomorphosis, although several heterochronic mechanisms might be responsible (Livezey 1995). Thus, general retardation of development, or delay in onset (postdisplacement), would probably yield a reduction in size and pedomorphosis of the pectoral apparatus (Cubo and Arthur 2001). The sternum ossifies late in the ontogeny of pigeons, after hatching (Schinz and Zangerl 1937). Remiges also develop relatively late in most birds and pectoral pedomorphosis probably led to disproportionately short remiges in Raphus and Pezophaps (fig. 6.31). The wing of the raphins is not merely reduced in size; the distal wing elements are disproportionately shorter. The humerus has become more elongate with respect to the ulna; that is, its diaphysis (shaft) has become proportionately longer. This might suggest that the wing was used for

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The Dodo and the Solitaire

another purpose, perhaps display in the case of Raphus or combat in the case of Pezophaps. Furthermore, due to flightlessness there is a decrease in the amount of stress placed on the pectoral bones and as such they do not need to be as robust (symmorphic principle). Peramorphosis is the development of traits beyond that of the ancestral adult (Cubo and Arthur 2001), the exaggeration of a character relative to that in ancestors. It can be caused by an increased growth rate (acceleration), prolonged growth period (hypermorphosis), or early initiation of growth (predisplacement). Hypermorphosis is the retardation of maturation (termination of growth), leading to recapitulation by prolongation; it is “an extension or extrapolation of ancestral allometries” (Gould 1977, 341). The resulting protracted developmental period allows peramorphism and attainment of larger body size. Hypermorphosis is also often linked with K-selection (Gould 1977). Cubo and Arthur (2001) found a correlation between flightlessness and peramorphosis of the pelvic apparatus in birds. They also found a correlation between peramorphosis in the skull and peramorphosis in the pelvic apparatus among flightless birds. This suggests that there is a controlling factor, such as hormones (perhaps thyroid hormones in particular), linking different structures. Food gathering and maintainence of a large territory would have required efficient dispersal throughout a large area. As the use of flight was reduced, then compensation in the form of increased terrestrial locomotory ability was developed, which was also associated with an increase in size. Peramorphism of the pelvic apparatus might have been relatively easily acquired by Raphus and Pezophaps granted the late acquisition of locomotory ability by typical columbids, comparatively slow growth rates of tropical species, lack of predators allowing an increased developmental period, and potential for increased body size generally in insular columbids (Livezey 2003). Other factors might also have been involved, such as heteroposy or heterometry, an example of which is the change in the number of multiplying

The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

6.31.  The wing of Raphus (a: Savery-BM, c: Mansu¯r) compared to that of juvenile Syrrhaptes (b: after Fjeldså 1976). Note the short secondaries obscured by the coverts.

351

6.32.  Goura (Sharpe 1894).

cells at growth plates. This underlies the peramorphosis of the tarsometatarsus in Ardeidae and might also apply to Raphus and Pezophaps in some aspects. The gourines Didunculus and Goura (figs. 6.32, 6.33) are slightly more sexually dimorphic, in terms of bone element dimensions, than Columba and Geopelia (data from Livezey 1993). Within Gourinae, males are relatively peramorphic with respect to females, which consequence is increased by hypermorphosis in Raphus and even more so in Pezophaps. Increased sexual dimorphism is sometimes also associated with flightlessness, especially in peramorphic taxa (Livezey 1995). In the size-related sexual dimorphism (intraspecific heterochrony) of Raphus and Pezophaps, the male is hypermorphic with respect to the female. This may be the product of bimaturism, i.e., differences in timing of maturation, with the possibility in Pezophaps, and perhaps also Raphus, of the males maturing later than the females and so becoming larger. This increase in body size is also reflected in the larger and more developed exostoses seen in male Pezophaps, a longer growth period resulting in more time for exostoses to develop. The distribution of exostoses does not appear

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to be connected with pedomorphic or peramorphic structures, being found in skull, pelvic, and pedal – as well as wing – elements. However, they are more common in the latter. Evidence for extended growth in males is seen in increased rugosities on the cranium, carpometacarpus, radius, and ulnare, and possible increase in pneumatization. Females are pedomorphic with respect to males, and some specimens, at least, show less pneumatization, and a tendency toward less ossification (e.g., unfused lacrimals BMNH A1373, unfused cervical rib BMNH A3506, auditory region of BMNH A1375) than males. Heterochrony often leads to “a whole array of derived, but otherwise unrelated, character states” (Cubo and Arthur 2001, 696). Detailed information on the development of Raphus and Pezophaps, in addition to that of volant columbids, is required to identify the specific heterochronic mechanisms responsible for pedomorphosis and peramorphosis. Unfortunately, such data for the former taxa are not available. According to Livezey, “the degree and regional diversity of pectoral underdevelopment (especially in R. cucullatus) suggests that two or more changes in rates or timing of ontogeny may have been involved in both species” (1993, 278). Dissociation of structural development is also apparent, with some organs becoming pedomorphic (e.g., the pectoral apparatus) and others peramorphic (e.g., the hindlimb and skull). Even within the same structure,

The Natural History of the Dodo and Solitaire

6.33.  Left: skeleton (lithograph by James Erxleben) and skull (Strickland and Melville 1848, pl. x, fig. 4) of Goura. Right: skeleton (Owen 1867, pl. xv, fig. 2) and head (Hachisuka 1953, 42) of Didunculus. Not to scale.

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such as the skull, some elements show peramorphism (e.g., frontal, premaxilla, lacrimal) and others pedomorphism (e.g., auditory region). Flightlessness, together with its associated characters, was most probably acquired convergently by the lineages of Raphus and Pezophaps. This assumes that Mauritius and Rodrigues were each colonized by a volant ancestor, rather than rafting of a flightless ancestor between the two islands. This is evidenced by the many differences between these two taxa, both in external and internal morphology and in their morphometrics, and also by the suggested divergence times of the two species (see below). The majority of their morphological similarities are convergent features due to heterochrony, terrestriality, and flightlessness. As Livezey concluded, Raphus and Pezophaps were “evolutionarily innovative in ontogeny, morphological characters and life-history strategies” (1993, 247), and during the course of their evolution they underwent “extreme morphological and (probably) physiological changes” (282). Molecular Dating Shapiro et al. (2002) used two external fossil calibration points, which indicated that Raphus separated from Pezophaps around 25.6 Ma (CI 17.6–35.9 Ma; Late Oligocene) and that Raphus + Pezophaps separated from the common ancestor with Caloenas about 42.6 Ma (95% CI 31.9–56.1 Ma; Mid–Late Eocene). According to Cheke and Hume (2008), this would suggest that the species diverged on Saya da Malha and Nazareth Bank–St. Brandon (emerged 30–35 Ma). Their analysis, incorporating the calibration point of the penguinalbatross divergence (58 Ma),32 and with no smoothing, was conducted using qdate. The quartets comprised the calibration pair and either Raphus + Pezophaps or Pezophaps + Caloenas. Analyses using the chicken-guinea fowl divergence (40 Ma) produced similar results (within 95% CI), as did molecular clock analyses with non-parametric rate smoothing. Johnson et al. (2001) used a standard avian cyt-b molecular clock rate of ≈2% per Ma. According to this, the divergence date for Raphus + Pezophaps and Caloenas would be c. 10 Ma and that of Raphus from Pezophaps c. 6 Ma, suggesting that the species diverged when Rodrigues and Mauritius emerged (Cheke and Hume 2008). In the analysis of Pereira et al. (2007), 13 fossil constraints were employed, and Anseriformes, Galliformes, and Struthioniformes were utilized as outgroups. In addition, the estimated split between Galloanserae and Neoaves of 122.2 Ma and a minimum age of 20.4 Ma for Columbiformes were used. Prior and posterior distributions of divergence times were calculated using a using a Bayesian multigene approach. This permitted data to be partitioned by gene, and also allowed for uncertainty in branch lengths and time constraints. (See Table 6.8.) There are, however, two main problems with using molecular dating. First, it assumes a constant rate of genetic change. In the case of heterochronic processes, evolutionary rate might be different compared with other evolutionary processes (rate heterogeneity). Second, calibration points are often updated as new material is found and more accurate dates are obtained. 354

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Table 6.8 Prior Node (see fig. 6.29)

Mean

Posterior

SD

95% confidence interval

Mean

SD

95% confidence interval

1

10.5

9.6

0.3, 35.4

22.8

4.1

15.4, 31.4

2

20.6

12.9

2.6, 51.0

33.6

4.3

25.5, 42.5

3

30.8

14.8

7.1, 63.4

40.8

4.0

33.6, 48.9

4

41.1

16.1

13.8, 75.6

42.5

4.0

35.3, 50.7

5

51.2

16.8

20.8, 85.9

44.3

4.0

37.2, 52.5

6

61.5

16.8

29.6, 94.1

46.1

4.1

38.7, 54.4

Data from Pereira et al. 2007, table 3.

It is important to be aware of potential biases when examining collections of specimens of Raphus and Pezophaps. These include collecting bias (larger bones are more likely to be collected; this is generally true for Mare aux Songes specimens collected prior to the DRP), preservational bias (small or fragile elements may not be preserved) and scavenging or predation bias (e.g., human predation refuse at Baie du Cap). Cave environments preserve more articulated specimens, skulls and smaller skeletal elements than marsh environments. There is also a preservational bias toward adult specimens, as juvenile bones are fragile and more easily weathered due to lack of a developed periosteal layer. However, nesting and rearing of young might not have occurred at, or near, the sites of deposition. It should also be noted that no dodo bones are completely fossilized: all are subfossil or diagenetically unaltered. Although sometimes cited as Pleistocene-Holocene (Lambrecht 1933) or Holocene to Recent (Janoo 2005), the temporal distribution of the dodo is unknown; the only dated material being that from Mare aux Songes and that associated with human occupation (see below). Hume (2005b) estimated the number of adult dodo elements discovered to be ≈1710 (MI, MNHN, NHM, UMZC specimens). Known juvenile remains of Raphus include a partial tarsometatarsus found by Thirioux.33 Other potentially sub-adult material is discussed in “The Dodologist’s Miscellany.” The presence of snails, especially at some of Thirioux’s localities, might have enticed birds into caves, perhaps regularly (see above). Fissures and caves would have formed natural traps for dodos and solitaires. The following are locations where dodo or solitaire specimens have been discovered. For maps showing the location of sites see figures in the introduction and fig. 6.38. For details concerning the discovery of and history of research at the localities see chapter 5. For lists of specimens see “The Dodologist’s Miscellany.” No dodo bones have been recovered from Fort Frederik Hendrik, despite the discovery of over 20,000 bone fragments, including those of tortoise and dugong (Rijsdijk et al. 2005; Naturalis blog). This suggests that dodos were not a large part of the diet of the settlers. However, it has been suggested that deposits at the Fort have moved seaward, perhaps taking dodo remains with them (cf. Clark 1866).

Taphonomy

Mare aux Songes Mare aux Songes, elevation