GIANTS OF THE FEATHERED WORLD.
As we have seen in the preceding chapter, the earliest birds were both
stranger and, in some cases at least, larger than most of the species
found on earth today. But as we go upward in the geologic scale, we
find that the primitive birds were far outstripped by their relatively
modern descendants. Some of these feathered Goliaths, such as the
Ostrich of Africa, are alive today; some have but recently become
extinct, and their relics are found by thousands in the districts where
they once roamed. Still others, though probably not the largest of
their class, died out thousands, or even millions of years before man
appeared upon the earth. They, like the mighty dinosaurs that preceded
them, succumbed to the many enemies which constantly attack every
animal that lives and left the earth to their more successful rivals
and descendants.
Among the best known of the more recent avian giants, so recently
extant that it still lives in the traditions of the peoples whose
ancestors feasted upon its flesh, is the great Moa of New Zealand.
The first announcement of the existence of this remarkable bird was
made by the Rev. W. Colenso, a missionary who later became Bishop of
New Zealand. Early in the year of 1838, while on a missionary trip in
the North Island, Bishop Colenso secured from the natives of Waiapu
legends regarding a mammoth bird, called the Moa, which possessed a
human head, and which inhabited a mountain some eighty miles inland.
This creature, according to the legends, was the last of his kind, and
was carefully guarded by two gigantic lizards who stood watch while the
bird slept. When an enemy, especially a man, approached, these lizards
roused the Moa, who immediately rushed upon the intruders and trampled
them to death. It appeared that none of the savages had ever seen this
bird--due, perhaps, to its watchful guardians and fierce prowess--but
they were very sure of its existence. In fact, they used bones of his
dead relatives in making their fishing implements, and these bones,
they assured the bishop, were quite as large as those of the European
ox.
But a short time later, another missionary, the Rev. Richard Taylor,
discovered a bone which was said to belong to the Moa, and received
considerable free information about its possessor from the natives
with whom he was associated. But, as Dr. Lucas remarks in telling of
the incident, just “as the foot of the rainbow moves away as we move
toward it, in his case the bird was said to dwell in a quite different
locality from that given by the natives of East Cape” where Rev.
Colenso had secured his information. Taylor’s informants, like the
other natives, had not seen the Moa, nor did they even know anyone who
had, but they had no doubt of its existence. When after many years of
search, however, there was not a single explorer who had seen, heard,
or tracked the giant bird, scientists refused to believe the tales of
the natives, and some went so far as to deny that the Moa had lived at
any time within the era of man.
These latter, however, went somewhat too far in their questioning. For
even though no man has seen the living Moa, its remains are scattered
abundantly over the hills, valleys and swamps of New Zealand, and
from them scientists have been able to gain a very reliable idea of
the size, structure, and general appearance of the feathered giant.
Probably the most remarkable find of Moa remains was made in one of the
large, dry caves of South Island, where collectors secured not only
a number of bones with the original flesh adhering, but also several
patches of skin to which clung numerous feathers of a chestnut color
tipped with white. True, these small, rusty-brown feathers were not
very spectacular, but when we stop to consider that they have been kept
for hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of years without any preservative
whatever, and that they belonged to a race of creatures now totally
extinct, our respect for them increases greatly. Since the original
possessor of those feathers died in his New Zealand cavern many wars
have been won and lost, powerful nations have arisen, new languages
and systems of thought have been established, and the surface of the
earth has been carved, planed, and pitted by the restless inventive
animal called man. And now that same man is spending a considerable
amount of his most prized possession--money--to gather and preserve the
broken, dried remains of that old New Zealand bird, his relatives and
ancestors.
It is now well known, that instead of but one species of Moa, as
the New Zealand savages told the missionaries, there were twenty or
more. Some of these were quite small--but little larger than the
turkey--while others, such as Dinornis (terrible bird) must have
reached a height of at least ten feet, and were, in all probability,
the largest birds that have ever been seen on earth. Remarkably enough,
some writers have not been satisfied with even these great dimensions,
and have stated the height of some of the Moas to be from twelve to
fourteen feet. These measurements, however, can be attained only by
placing the skeleton in a most unnatural position, which the bird could
not possibly have maintained while alive. There is a natural desire on
the part of man to magnify his discoveries, and the remains of extinct
creatures are favorite subjects for such romancing. Unfortunately for
the writers, these same bones offer incontestable evidence as to the
actual sizes of the creatures to which they belonged, and sooner or
later all errors must be corrected and “the high made low.” As Dr. F.
A. Lucas has insisted over and over again, the greatest monster always
shrinks before the application of a two-foot rule.
The Moas, like the modern Ostriches, were quite incapable of flight.
Indeed, many of them were totally wingless, lacking even the tiny,
almost invisible vestigial wings that are to be found in such modern
species as the Cassowary and Apteryx. But what they lacked in wings
the Moas more than made up for in legs. Those of one species, dubbed
elephantopus (elephant-footed) were so ponderous that one cannot but
wonder what purpose they served. The theory most generally accepted
is that they were of value in digging out the roots of ferns, upon
which the Moas appear to have fed. Furthermore, when we remember that
one blow from the foot of an angry ostrich is quite enough to kill a
man, we cannot doubt that the Moa was quite able to either trample
underfoot, or smash to a shapeless pulp almost any enemy that might
have assailed it. The lizard watchmen of the Maori legend are, of
course, inventions, but the ferocious habits of the enraged Moa are
without question matters of pure fact.
So far as known, the Moas were confined to New Zealand, some species
inhabiting North Island, some South, but with very few common to both.
From this fact Lucas, and others who have studied the birds, conclude
that the two islands were originally one, and that long after the Moas
came into existence there was a submergence which divided the island
into two. After that submergence sufficient time elapsed to allow for
the development of several species of Moas, each restricted to one
island. Inasmuch as the birds could not fly, and probably were poor
swimmers, there was but little intermingling of the faunas. “Although
Moas were still numerous when man made his appearance in this part
of the world, the large deposits of their bones indicate that they
were on the wane, and that natural causes had already reduced the
feathered population of these islands. A glacial period is believed to
have wrought their destruction, and in one great morass, abounding in
springs, their bones occur in such enormous numbers, layer upon layer,
that it is thought the birds sought the place where the flowing springs
might afford their feet at least some respite from the biting cold, and
there perished miserably by thousands.”[14]
The glacial cold, however, did not completely destroy the Moas. We have
already seen that legends of the birds were told to the pioneering
white missionaries, and other tales of Moa hunts and Moa feasts were
not uncommon. It is uncertain whether the last of these giants was
eaten by the ancient Maoris, or by a race that preceded them. Some
authors have suggested, apparently on fairly good ground, that Moas
formed the sole important flesh food of these prehistoric peoples,
and that with the dying out of the avian food supply, the hereditary
liking for flesh naturally led to cannibalism. Thus the savages who
destroyed the Moas turned to destroying themselves, were supplanted by
another race which handed on the knowledge of the Moas to the white man
who in turn set about killing off the savages.
From the New Zealand Moa to Sinbad the Sailor, and his huge and
unintentionally beneficent Roc, is, at first thought, a very far cry,
yet the separation is not so great as it seems. The Arabian tales give
the habitation of the Roc as either Madagascar or one of the adjoining
islands, and it seems very probable that the original of the huge bird
that carried the adventurous Sinbad out of the crater of diamonds was
the Aepyornis, a distant relative of the Moas, and an inhabitant of
Madagascar. It is quite true that the Roc was a gigantic bird quite
capable of carrying off an elephant to make a meal for its young,
while the Aepyornis was little larger than an ostrich, was incapable
of flight, and fed upon plants. These facts, however, would in no way
interfere with the fancy of an Arabian story teller, whose original
materials probably were a collection of Aeypornis legend substantiated
by fragments of the bird’s enormous eggs. Hardly greater exaggerations
are perpetrated weekly by the “feature writers” of American Sunday
newspapers, and these men have all the resources of modern science at
their disposal.
The actual scientific “discovery” of Aepyornis did not take place until
1834, when Jules Verreaux, a French ornithologist received a sketch
of a huge egg, found in the island of Madagascar. The informant, a
traveler, said that he had seen two of these eggs, one of which had
been used in cracking rice, while the other had been sawed in two to
be used as bowls. Later on, some fragments of a shell were secured by
another traveler, and finally, in 1851, two entire eggs and a number of
bones were secured and sent to France. They were studied by Geoffroy
St-Hilaire, a noted naturalist and pioneer evolutionist, who christened
them Aepyornis maximus, or “greatest lofty bird.” The last part of the
name was appropriate so far as the eggs are concerned, for they stand
as the largest of all eggs. Some idea of their size may be gained by
comparisons; the measurements alone do not mean a great deal. The
egg of the ostrich, which is usually considered to be quite immense,
measures four and one-half by six inches; that of the Aepyornis is
not less than nine by thirteen inches, and would hold the whites and
yolks of six ostrich eggs! The size seems even greater when we say
that it would hold the contents of more than twelve dozen hens’ eggs
or thirty thousands of the tiny, bean-like eggs of the hummingbird.
Had there been giants in the old days, as fairy tales and occasional
newspaper articles seek to convince us, they would have had no trouble
in satisfying their breakfast appetites with a couple of Aepyornis
eggs, poached. Fortunately for Aepyornis, in his day there were neither
giants nor newspapers; had either existed he doubtless would have been
exterminated by hunters long before his time.
Despite the excellence of their preservation, relics of the giant
birds of New Zealand and Madagascar are not easily seen by the student.
There are fine collections at Harvard University, and the American
Museum in New York, and in museums in Europe and New Zealand, but
there are few, if any Moa eggs in the United States. Specimens of this
sort are very expensive; Aepyornis eggs have sold in London for as
high as two hundred pounds (about nine hundred seventy-two dollars)
and most American museums are desperately poor, being forced to rely
on the generosity of private individuals for money with which to buy
specimens.[15]
Leaving the giant eastern birds, and the scarcity of collections of
their remains, we may transfer our attention to a group of American
birds, the huge Phororhacidae of Patagonia. Although far older,
geologically these birds were not discovered until long after the Moas
and Aepyornis were well known. Even then, it was not believed that so
massive a bone as the jaw of Phororhacos could possibly belong to a
bird, and it was necessary to find much more complete relics before
the case could be proved.
It is one of the ludicrous facts of paleontology that most of the
large-sounding names were used up on the Moas, some of which were
small, and that Dinornis (terrible bird) was wasted on root-eating
creatures that probably were of meekest temperament when not annoyed.
In the Patagonian birds, on the other hand, we have species that were
really terrible, with their powerful legs, huge heads, sharp, crooked
beaks, and strong talons. One of them, Brontornis, or thunder bird,
possessed leg bones larger than those of an ox, the drumstick being
thirty inches long and two and one-half inches thick. The corresponding
bone in the turkey, largest of the domestic birds, the length is but
five and one-half inches. The most imposing of the Patagonian birds,
however, is the Phorohacos, a creature unique among the bird world.
This creature stood seven or eight feet in height, possessed a head
larger than that of a horse and a neck as thick, and was armed with
huge, sharply hooked beak and long, sharp claws. One of Dr. Lucas’
illustrations shows the skull of the race-horse Lexington placed
beneath that of Phororhacos. That of the bird is one inch longer and
one and one-half deeper.
The structure of Phororhacos, like that of all other animals, affords
an excellent key to its food habits. Probably they did not feed upon
roots, as did the Moas, for had they done so their strong, hooked beaks
would have been useless, or nearly so. Neither is it probable that
they caught fish; the beaks of most fish-eating birds, and particularly
of the herons, which are related to Phororhacos, are long, adapted
to spearing. Beaks and claws like those of the Patagonian giant are
found, in most cases, in birds that feed on either carrion or living
animals, or both. In the accompanying illustration the bird is shown
as just having killed a small grass-eating animal, and preparing to
devour it. Were it to be proved--as it can hardly be--that Phororhacos
fed upon carrion alone, the restoration would have to be modified
greatly, in appearance though not in proportion. Carrion eaters seldom
have feathers on the upper part of the neck and the head, as may be
seen by examining such notorious eaters of dead flesh as the vultures
or “buzzards.” But the designer of the original restoration, as
life-drawings of extinct animals are called, was satisfied to consider
his subject as a swift-running bird of prey that preferred fresh killed
meat, and did the killing itself.
[Illustration: PLATE XII.
Phororhacos preparing to devour its prey.
(After Lucas.)]
FOOTNOTES:
[14] Lucas, Animals of the Past, 1st Ed., p. 143. Note that, since the
Moas were on the decline when man appeared in their environment, and
they had no other powerful enemies, the huge legs could hardly have had
defence as their chief function.
[15] This is true of the United States National Museum, at Washington,
where the customary appropriation for securing specimens is $10,000
per year. At this _national_ institution it is not rare for employees
to draw upon their own small resources in order to secure particularly
desirable collections. The same condition is to be found in other
museums of the country, excepting the American Museum of Natural
History in New York. It, though privately endowed, is housed by the
city of New York, and is the largest and best supported museum in the
western hemisphere.
Transcriber’s Note:
- Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
- Footnotes were moved to the ends of the chapters in which they appeared.
- Illustrations were moved to the ends of the paragraphs in which they
appeared. The list of illustrations was not in the original text. Plate V
was originally untitled.
- Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
- Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice.
- Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following
changes:
Page 6: “elk whose carcases” to “elk whose carcasses”
Page 9: “He loked somewhat” to “He looked somewhat”
Page 10: “But, bizarre though The” to “But, bizarre though the”
Page 15: “the natural percursors” to “the natural precursors”
Page 18: “their senile aderrations” to “their senile aberrations”
Page 21: “active than the diosaurs” to “active than the dinosaurs”
Page 23: “an idea altogether to” to “an idea altogether too”
Page 30: “loked more like a gigantic” to “looked more like a gigantic”
Page 34: “survivals were of smalll” to “survivals were of small”
Page 35: “they swam about seaching” to “they swam about searching”
Page 42: “with greater ease than has” to “with greater ease than had”
Page 42: “But in all probalility” to “But in all probability”
Page 44: “uncertain though the oirgin” to “uncertain though the origin”
Page 52: “weather, bacteria, and carrrion” to “weather, bacteria, and
carrion”
Page 54: “year of 1838, whie” to “year of 1838, while”
Page 54: “especially a man, aproached” to “especially a man, approached”
Page 54: “they were very sure if” to “they were very sure of”
Page 54: “in a quite a different” to “in a quite different”
Page 55: “and that they belond” to “and that they belonged”
Page 58: “birds sought the pace” to “birds sought the place”
Page 59: “turned to destroying hemselves” to “turned to destroying
themselves”
Page 60: “studied by Goeffroy St-Hilaire” to “studied by Geoffroy
St-Hilaire”
Page 62: “and two and one-haf” to “and two and one-half”