Tuesday, 29 September 2026

Willoughby Lowe (1872-1949). Collector of specimens for the Natural History Museum in London. Part Six: 1912-13 - East Africa, the Cosens Expedition

Willoughby Lowe (1872-1949) was a highly-praised collector for the Natural History Museum in London as well as an all-round naturalist. Counting just birds he added over 10,000 specimens to the Museum. Lowe wrote two books on the various expeditions of which he had been part and there are summaries available online on what he did and where he went. However there is little of his life and background. He travelled with interesting, important and infamous people in pursuing the zoology of the day. In an endeavour to provide a fuller picture of Lowe I have scoured family trees (often inaccurate or incomplete), original material available on genealogy websites (again thanks to clerical errors sometimes inaccurate), newspapers and the like. There are still important gaps and I hope readers will contact me if they have more information. To make that job more manageable, I am splitting Lowe's life into parts. This is the 6th part. Links to the other articles can be found at the end.



Willoughby Lowe set off for East Africa on 12 August 1912. On 15 September he arrived at Mombasa on a German ship. While on board the Captain had predicted that before long Germany and Britain would be at war and “we shall take all your colonies away from you”. That evening Lowe took the sleeper train to Nairobi, getting up early the next morning to see the vast numbers of mammals and birds alongside the track.

On arrival at Nairobi I found Captain Cosens with Mr Wm. Judd, the celebrated big game hunter, who had shot as much game as, or more than, any other white man. He was to be one of our party and his services were invaluable, as he had a through knowledge of the natives and their languages, and on safari nothing was an obstacle.

They met at the Norfolk Hotel.

It would seem that this was the first of what would become a familiar arrangement to Lowe. The expedition was financed by a wealthy individual, in this case, Cosens. That person would be in contact with the Natural History Museum in London who would suggest a collector, in this case Lowe. The specimens would then be presented to the Museum by the financial sponsor. This was an admirable arrangement as far as the Museum was concerned since it brought in new specimens at minimal or possibly no cost. What I have not found out is whether Lowe was paid at all or by whom. In this case, Judd would have been engaged by Cosens.

But who was Captain Cosens and how could he afford to fund this collecting expedition through East Africa ?

Captain Cosens

Gordon Philip Lewes Cosens was born on 14 October 1884 in London. He was the son of Philip John Cosens (1862-1919) and Alice Manuelle (1860-1891). His grandfather, Frederick William Cousens, co-founded Silva & Cosens, port producers in Portugal and merchants in London, in 1862.  Philip John followed his father into the business which was highly successful and expanded. A member of the Warre family joined in 1868 and the company merged with the smaller Dow & Co in 1877. The merged companies decided they would be known as Dow’s—and the name lives on in 2026. The success of the company can be judged by the will of Frederick. In 1889 he left an estate of £203,000; that is around £33 million in 2026 terms.

Educated at Eton, Gordon Cosens began his life in the army as a part-time subaltern in the Oxfordshire Light Infantry, a militia regiment, in October 1902 at the age of 18. Two years later he transferred to the 1st (Royal) Dragoons, a regular army regiment that in 1969 was amalgamated with the Royal Horse Guards to become the Blues and Royals, the second most senior regiment in the army. In 1908 he was promoted to Lieutenant and in April 1914 to Captain. Therefore in 1912 when Lowe met him in Nairobi, Cosens was Lieutenant Cosens. and he is so described in short newspaper articles covering the expedition.  It seems to have been Lowe’s habit when writing in his book to use the rank he had known the individual to have risen to. Cosens would have travelled to Nairobi from South Africa where his regiment was stationed at the time.

Because the expedition headed north to Khartoum I wonder if Cosens knew that he was to be seconded to the Egyptian Army, the British-officered and British-controlled organisation. He was still there in April 1914 when he was promoted. On his medal card from Army Records he is shown as being in Egypt as a theatre of war from November 1914. From then the records show him to have been a General Staff Officer on the Headquarters Staff of 53rd Division as Captain and then Brevet Major (from 1915), then back to the Royal Dragoons (Brevet Major) and then again on the Staff at Headquarters of the 3rd Cavalry Division and the Cavalry Corps. The 53rd Division took part in the disastrous Gallipoli Campaign of 1915 and was evacuated back to Egypt. He was unusual in that he (nor 53rd Division) fought in France during the war.

The final entry is HQ  ‘L of C’ and then HQ Aldershot Command as temporary Lieutenant Colonel. He was awarded the DSO in January 1918. From announcements in the London Gazette it can be seen that he rose in the grades of Staff Officer From GSO3 to GSO1 seemingly in the Adjutant General’s branch which managed personnel matters like discipline, medical and sanitary services.

In August 1920, aged 35, he married Gwladys Ethel Mawer (1890-1962) daughter of Mrs. Oswell MacLeay, of Ascot Lodge, Ascot, and the late Captain F. G. Mawer, Welch Regiment. Also in August came the news that Cosens had retired from the army after 16 years as a regular soldier, retaining the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Thanks to working with working with two retired officers I learnt enough of the arcane practices to interpret that at a regimental level Cosens was still a captain and brevet (temporary) major while holding a post on the General Staff two grades higher.

In his short retirement Colonel and Mrs Cosens travelled to Japan in 1921 via the Panama Canal and the USA and to Tangier and Lisbon in 1924. After that we know that illness supervened. He died on 29 March 1928. His death notice in The Times: ‘result of an operation, following four years of illness, courageously borne…of 34 Hans-road, S.W., aged 43’. He suffered heart failure after the operation to remove a brain tumour. From his estate of £60,832 (worth about £5 million in 2026) he left £100 to the Royal Dragoons' Aid Fund, £100 to St Dunstan's Hostel, one year's wages to each of his servants who had been in his service for two years.

William Judd

William ‘Bill’ Charles Ernest Judd was a well-known big game hunter based in Kenya. His entry in the website Europeans in East Africa contains accounts of his activities by the writers of books, including Willoughby Lowe. Judd was born in Portsmouth in 1872. His father, William Archibald Judd, was a petty officer in the Royal Navy and can be found in the 1861 Census as ‘Captain of the Main Top’ on board HMS Sidon, a paddle frigate driven by steam or sail. He retired on a pension in 1882 but in 1881 was already working as a boatman and living in Greenwich. In the 1891 census William senior was a ‘barge owner and lighterman’ while William junior was his apprentice.

Sometime in the early 1900s young Bill went to South Africa where he  fought in the 1993-4 Matabele War and is said to have worked as ‘an intelligence agent’. He must have returned to life on the River Thames because in 1897 he married Eleanor Jane Maslen Gostling of Loughton, Essex. In the same year William senior died and it would seem that Bill took over the business. In the 1901 Census he was living in Northfleet in Kent with his wife, daughter and son; he was a ‘barge owner and lighterman. 

The date shown for his arrival in East Africa is 1902 but he was not South African as suggested. We know from Lowe and others that he had a coffee farm near Kikuyu. That would be the historic Fort Smith he bought in 1908, the year his family joined him. He also owned a ‘ranch’ at Naivasha and a trading store on the Amalo River.

Judd was killed by an elephant he was hunting on 21 December 1927.

Accounts of the safaris

The two safaris are described by Lowe in chapters 4 and 5 of The Trail That Is Always New. They are also described in an account in the first of three papers written by Claude Henry Baxter Grant (1878–1958) using notes provided by Willoughby Lowe on the bird specimens that reached the Natural History Museum in London. All three papers were published in the same volume of The Ibis in 1915. Unfortunately, in the first paper G.P.L. Cosens is referred to as G.S. Cozens. Lowe was clearly disappointed that a fourth paper on the passerines never appeared.

The map prepared for the Ibis paper was printed in two halves; I have joined them the best I can and added in colour the route of the two safaris. The Ibis paper also contains a detailed itinerary.


Routes in Red (1st Safari) and Blue (2nd)
























In Nairobi Lowe employed a trapper, who had just finished working for Theodore Roosevelt on the latter’s well-known safari, and a man to do the skinning. After shooting a few birds for the collection at Judd’s coffee farm, between 21 and 23 September, the party set off for Kijabe where they gathered extra porters. Safaris in these pioneering days of the industry had the reputation of being vast affairs, involving lots of porters, wagons, ox-carts, mules, horses, camping gear and camp staff. Nowhere have I found how many people in all were involved in either stage of this one, although there are comments such as how many camels, how many porters, and the like, at some stages of the journeys. The days seemed to consist of travel, camp, shoot, skin and prepare specimens, pack up and continue. I will therefore pick up a few snippets from Lowe’s account. He praised Jubb highly:

…his services were invaluable, as he had a thorough knowledge of the natives and their languages, and on safari nothing was an obstacle.

First Safari

Our plans were to move south-west to as far as the then little known Amala River, thence passing south-cast along the German East African boundary to Mount Leganisho, and eastward to the great soda lake Magadi, after which we were to return to Nairobi, crossing the Mau Escarpment by the southern end of the beautiful Lake Naivasha, and thence on to the railway. Judd had some splendid large black dogs which he used when shooting; they were cross-bred between Collie, Retriever, and Airedale. They were still very plucky in spite of having been nearly torn to pieces by lions and leopards, as could be seen by the scars of wounds which had been sewn up. These dogs, if well trained, are invaluable to the big game hunter, especially if he wishes to follow up a dangerous wounded animal, for they will hold the quarry at bay by barking and so allow the sportsman to give the coup de grâce. We also took some natives armed with rifles to guard our camp at night, but I fear they often went to sleep until awakened by a lion's roar.

The water at Mount Suswa was very bad, being taken from a water-hole in the rocks, which was badly contaminated by baboons and other animals; but with the aid of alum, boiling and filtering, it made a fairly good whisky-and-soda, and almost anything seemed palatable in such a dry spot!

By Ist October we were on the southern Guaso Nyiro, and passed on to the Loita Plains and Lemeck Valley to the real game section of the Amala River. In this lovely park-like country one saw literally thousands of Zebras, Gnus, Kongoni, Impala, Grant's and Thompson's Gazelles, Reedbuck, Giraffes and Ostrich, whilst smaller animals, such as Dik-dik and Steinbuck haunted the patches of bush. I could not have imagined that such troops of animals existed. The outstanding feature was their tameness. I always thought that people who had been to Africa and brought back so many trophies must of necessity be mighty hunters; but now I formed quite a different opinion, though some beasts are difficult to come by on account of their habitat, whilst others are dangerous, but the bulk of game in Kenya at that time was not more difficult to shoot than cows would be in an English field!

…I was interested to find an animal here resembling the small skunk of North America, and having the same dreadful smell; it is scientifically known as Ictonyx….[Ictonyx striatus, Zorilla]

Our camp at night looked very picturesque, with the white tents surrounded by a circle of brilliant fires, and the dark figures of our boys squatting round cooking chunks of zebra meat. An African night is always very impressive, with its wonderful blue-black sky, illuminated by the myriads of radiant stars…

On 2Ist November the Rhino was at last secured, a fine old bull, shot at fifteen yards' range. His head-skin entailed a lot of work in paring down. We cooked his tongue and tail; the former, well boiled, was excellent eating, whilst the tail made very good soup.

…we proceeded northwards for Naivasha station, following the southern Guaso Nyiro River, where one morning we were surprised by seeing a lady riding in her pyjamas. We spoke to her as we passed, and she told us that she had been sitting up for lions over a killed zebra, and that she had been very successful, having shot eight with the aid of a flash-light from her thorn zereba. She told us that she and her friends were camped nearby, and very kindly asked us to meet them. We accepted the invitation and lunched with Mr Greswolde-Williams and his family.

I suspect Lowe included that reference because Francis Wigley Greswold Williams (1873-1931) had a scandalous reputation (HERE). In 1928 he was carried from the Muthaiga Club in Nairobi under the arm of another member for offering cocaine (which he imported to sell to the Happy Valley Set) to the Prince of Wales between courses at the dinner table. The future King Edward VIII (until his abdication) was on a Royal Tour. His response to the offer appears to have gone unrecorded. Greswolde-Williams’s solecism of course came in two parts: the offer of cocaine was one; that it was made before the loyal toast was the other.

Lowe noted that the water at Naivasha ‘none too good here, tasting strongly of Hippo, of which we saw quite a number’. That line brought back memories of a lakeside hotel in Naivasha in 1991. The water from the bathroom taps had the a powerful odour and was we suspected more than capable of being used as liquid plant fertiliser.

From Naivasha the party travelled back to Nairobi by train, arriving on 9 December 1912. There they were busy packing the specimens collected thus far (615 birds, 124 mammals plus reptiles and insects) for shipment to London.

Captain Lambert, a brother officer of Cousens, had been busy in Nairobi making arrangements for the trip north in which he also took part.

Captain Lambert

Henry McLaren Lambert was born on 25 July 1879 at Sevenoaks, Kent, the son of Edward Tiley Lambert, a hydraulic and gas engineer, and Janie McLaren. Educated at Harrow and Trinity College, Cambridge, he like Cosens, served in the local volunteers until being gazetted as a subaltern in the 1st (Royal Dragoons) in 1899. He was promoted to Lieutenant in 1900 and Captain in 1907. He served in the Boer Way in 1899-1902 and was then ADC to two successive Viceroys of India. He retired from the army in 1908 thereafter spending most of his time in East Africa and with his brother owned an ostrich farm. He was an early member of the Muthaiga Club (founded in 1913). On the outbreak of the First World War he rejoined his regiment and went to France in October 1914.

Captain Lambert was killed on 13 May 1915 at the Second Battle of Ypres, aged 35. He left £26,085 (approximately £3.5 million in 2026 terms).

Second Safari - One-way via Uganda to the Sudan, and home

The second journey turned out to be tough. The four plus their staff of unstated number set off by train, with ox-wagons and a dozen porters by road, on 16 December for Nakuru where Lambert joined the party. On Christmas Day they reached Lake Hannington (now Lake Bogoria) where they transferred the bags to six camels under the charge of eight armed Somalis. By the time they reached Baringo they realised that six camels were not enough and succeeded ‘with great difficulty’ in buying two more plus a couple of donkeys. Lowe’s two accounts of the journey, one in notes given to Grant and the other in his book, vary slightly in respect of where the donkeys and camels came from but the upshot was that they considered they did not have enough camels to pass through country infested by tsetse flies. At the last outpost of British administration, N’gabotok, the District Commissioner, a Captain Booth (Raymond Mitchell St. John Booth (1879-1955) King’s African Rifles) organised more water bags since he was concerned they had insufficient. One camel had already died, perhaps suggesting they were not in the finest condition. The only sources of water were wells in dry river beds.

Lowe had a frightening encounter with a large Black Mamba which passed at high speed through deep leaf litter five feet away from him. He plucked up courage to see where it had gone, spotted it in a bush and shot it. Another one for the museum.

At their last camp on the Turkwell River before turning west into Uganda they were met  by a number of Turkanas who seemed excited to see the camels. It turned out that these very camels were ones they had given to the Uganda government in lieu of payment of a tax. They had also been placed under an obligation not to molest the neighbouring Karamojana but who they, claimed, were raiding them from the mountains to carry off their cattle and women. Since the expedition had ‘their’ camels its members should fight the Karamojans or grant permission for the Turkana to do so themselves, went the demand. Talks went on for hours until it was agreed that a list of grievances should be written down and the document then handed to the first government official the expedition came across. The fact that the first meeting would probably be on the Nile was possibly not mentioned. After a lengthy drafting process and a display of intimidatory fighting prowess by the Turkana the party quickly moved on. A rapid tactical withdrawal was decided upon and the expedition set off during the moonlit night to put as many miles between them and the Turkana as they could before dawn.



After that local difficulty, conditions became really tough for a simple reason. They were fast running out of water and as they pressed on as quickly as possible to find a well some the camels were falling by the wayside with exhaustion and fly-bite. More weight was put on the surviving camels on a long climb towards Mount Maroto. The camels once down could not get up and moving again and so were shot. At one stop and with no water left, a party was sent ahead to try and find water with instructions to light a fire if and when they were successful. That evening the supper was tinned food and the champagne kept for medicinal purposes but Lowe found that did not quench his raging thirst. He also had birds to skin but could not use arsenical soap  as prservative since he no water to wash his hands. He used powdered tobacco instead. Near dawn a fire was spotted. Water had been found.

Sketch map sent by Cosens to the War Office
British Library

A two-day camp was agreed to eat, drink and rest. They also added to the map of the country through which they had passed. That map Sketch Map (Plane Table) of Country from "Ngabotok to the Nakwai Hills", Shewing Route followed by Expedition - Jan. & Feb. 1913.' Signed by 'G.P.L. Cosens Lt. The Royal Dragoons.’ was sent to the War Office in London. The map is now in the British Library.

Cosens and Lowe climbed Maroto, an extinct volcano of 10,115 feet. At the peak they buried a message in a bottle. Has that been found? On the way down they found a very narrow path which led to a Karamojan village where the men were friendly and showed a great interest in fire-arms which were used to shoot baboons and klipspringers on the surrounding rocks.

On the track again, camels continued to die and water could only by obtained by digging ‘often to a considerable depth’. Eventually they came across a village where they camped for two days. The old chief came to watch Lowe preserving skins and asked about the white powder. When told it was arsenic the chief asked for and then begged for some, offering Lowe everything from houses to women for sufficient arsenic to kill his enemy.

Signature on the sketch map

With too many of the pack animals dead, some local men were recruited as porters with payment in brass wire, cloth, salt and tobacco carried for that purpose. Another mule died on the first leg, leaving only Lowe’s. At  Kittagoom, an outpost of the King’s African Rifles, they reduced their kit to the essentials and recruited just enough porters to get them to the Nile. At Nimule they found fresh porters and parted with the last few camels.

Along the river bank and beyond they were plagued by tsetse flies and they moved north well away from the river since they had been told of ticks in old encampments which could cause serious illness or even death. They marched 112 miles to Gondokoro in southern Sudan. Lowe described that last lap as the worst. It was very hot and the soft hot sand made progress difficult and tiring.

At last on 5th March we reached a small rest-house near the river and sank exhausted on the floor. We rested, had a good meal, and slept. Early the next morning we found some old scissors and cut off our beards. How unpleasant shaving is after a long growth of hair. My razor had been sent by water with the rest of our kit to meet us at Khartoum so I borrowed a "safety," the worst thing possible for such an occasion; and I vowed never to use this modern convenience again, but to continue with my old-fashioned "cut-throat," which is cheaper and never fails to give satisfaction…

The steamer to carry them north the 750 miles to Khartoum arrived at 3 pm..

What a relief to be on board with all our belongings, and to receive months of mail. This was my first trip down the Nile, and I much looked forward to it…We all enjoyed the ease and comfort of the boat, with nothing to trouble us, watching the scenery of the Nile with its many interests in animal and bird life, with one's feet on the taffrail, enjoying a cold glass of beer and a pipe of good tobacco…

Lowe described the large herds of ‘game’ which gradually gave way to vast flocks of water birds. In Khartoum they had two nights at the Grand Hotel. Then he and Judd continued down the Nile by steamer and then by rail. At Luxor Judd met an old acquaintance on boarding the train and introduced him to Lowe. That was Abel Chapman and with both returning to Britain on a P&O ship from Port Said, the two plotted another collecting trip. How and to where Cosens and Lambert travelled after Khartoum were not mentioned.

On this second trip, from Nairobi to Gondokoro, Lowe had approximately doubled his collection of specimens. The grand total was over 1200 birds, 227 mammals besides reptiles and insects.

He ended his account of what proved to be an arduous trip after a comparatively easy one in southern Kenya with:

Travelling via Cairo and Port Said, we landed in England after nearly seven and a half months' absence, during which time not one of us had had a day’s illness.

Of the four members of collecting expedition only Lowe survived beyond 1928. Lambert was killed in 1915 aged 35, Judd was killed by an elephant in 1927, aged 55, and Cosens died of natural causes in 1928 aged 43.

Specimens

As described above some of the birds (474 species or subspecies in all) sent to the Natural History Museum were identified by Grant in his three papers.

The mammals that reached the museum were the subject of a report by Guy Dollman in Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London in 1914. Dollman listed 69 species or subspecies. He wrote:

In working out this collection I have found it necessary to describe six new forms, the most interesting of which, the new Gerbil (Gerbillus cosensi), I have named in honour of the generous donor. Another interesting novelty, Taterillus lowei, I have called after Mr. Willoughby Lowe, the collector.

Taterillus lowei is now regarded as a junior synonym of T. harringtoni. The case of Cosens’s Gerbil is more interesting. It has been and is currently shown as a synonym of the Agag Gerbil, Gerbillus agag. However, I read that there is considerable opinion that it really is a separate species but that more work is needed.

The specimens presented by Cosens and currently in the catalogue can be found in the Data Portal of the Natural History Museum simply by searching for ‘cosens’. They are often shown with scientific names accepted as valid at a time after Grant and Dollman published their papers.

But what about the rhino

One noticeable absentee from the list of mammals is the rhinoceros, the one which provided rhinoceros-tail soup. Did the skin and skeleton leave Kenya and if so where did they end up?


Since my earlier articles appeared an article in English on Willoughby Lowe has been published on Wikipedia (HERE). Some of my articles are cited but it contains a number of serious errors.

Dollman G. 1914. Notes on a Collection of Fast African Mammals presented to the British Museum by Mr. G. P. Cosens. Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London 1914, 307-318.

Grant CHB (with Field Notes by the Collector, Willoughby P. Lowe). 1915. On a Collection of Birds from British East Africa and Uganda, presented to the British Museum by Capt. G. S.Cozens.—Part I. Struthioniformes—Pelecaniformes. Ibis 3 (10th Series), 1-76.

Grant CHB (with Field Notes by the Collector, Willoughby P. Lowe). 1915. On a Collection of Birds from British East Africa and Uganda, presented to the British Museum by Capt. G.P. Cosens.—Part III. Accipitriformes—Cypseli. Ibis 3 (10th Series), 235-316.

Grant CHB (with Field Notes by the Collector, Willoughby P. Lowe). 1915. On a Collection of Birds from British East Africa and Uganda, presented to the British Museum by Capt. G.P. Cosens.—Part III, Colii—Pici. Ibis 3 (10th Series), 400-473.

Lowe WP. 1932. The Trail That Is Always New. London: Gurney and Jackson.


A view from the Mau Escarpment into the Rift Valley
Kenya 1991


LINKS

Part 1: Willoughby Lowe (1872-1949). Collector of specimens for the Natural History Museum in London. Part One: Early Life in England and Farming in Colorado

Part 2: Willoughby Lowe (1872-1949). Collector of specimens for the Natural History Museum in London. Part Two: To the Philippines; his first collecting trip with a sea snake spectacular on the way there

Part 3: Willoughby Lowe (1872-1949). Collector of specimens for the Natural History Museum in London. Part Three: In the Philippines on his first collecting trip with John Roberts White

Part 4: Willoughby Lowe (1872-1949). Collector of specimens for the Natural History Museum in London. Part Four: 1909-A live Monkey-eating Eagle from the Philippines

Part 5. Willoughby Lowe (1872-1949). Collector of specimens for the Natural History Museum in London. Part Five: 1910-11—Off the coast of Africa in HMS Mutine

Miss Waldron's Red Colobus. Finding Miss Waldron


Friday, 25 September 2026

Alala Sister: An Andean Butterfly in Colombia


This butterfly was on the track through the Otún Quimbaya reserve on the western side of the Cordillera Central of Colombia. The Alala Sister (Adelpha alala) is found along the Andes from Venezuela to north-west Argentina at altitudes between 400 and 2,600 metres.

The ‘sister’ in the common name is said to refer to the white wing bars resembling a nun’s habit. Somebody must have had a vivid imagination and possibly not entirely pure thoughts in coming up with that one.


Thursday, 17 September 2026

Far Eastern Curlew: Endangered species on passage in Hong Kong


Two days ago AJP spotted this Far Eastern Curlew (Numenius madagascariensis) on the tidal flats of Shiu Hau, a village on the south coast of Lantau island. This species of curlew is now classified as Endangered having suffered a large fall in population which IUCN attributes mainly to the loss of mud flats by land reclamation around the Yellow Sea in China and Korea. This is a juvenile which would have been on passage from the breeding area of northeast Asia,  Siberia to Kamchatka and Mongolia, to where it will spend the northern winter in Australia, southern Indonesia or even New Zealand. Juvenile curlews have short but still growing bills. The bill of the adult is the longest of any curlew.

The specific name, madagascariensis, is the result of a 1760s cock-up. It was first used by Mathurin Jacques Brisson (1723– 1806) for this species. His latin names did not correspond to the binomial system of Linnaeus but the latter adopted and adapted many of them. Unfortunately, in naming the bird Brisson thought the site of collection of his specimen to be Madagascar. It was in fact Makassar, now in Indonesia.




Wednesday, 16 September 2026

Torrent Ducks: Rio Otún, Colombia, November 2025

Torrent Ducks. Male on the left; female on the right

An iron bridge to a property crosses the Rio Otún at a right angle to the road, Via la Suiza, leading into the Otún Quimbaya reserve. All birdwatching group stop there to see what they can see in the river. The river flows westward from the peaks of the Cordillera Central into the valley of the Rio Cauca. The Cauca flows northwards between the Cordillera Occidental and the Cordillera Central to join the Magdalena and then into the Caribbean.

The Torrent Duck (Merganetta armata) occurs) along the Andes with pairs holding territories. It does indeed  live in and beside torrents. We first saw them along the Urubamba River which flows alongside the railway track from Cuzco to Macchu Picchu in Peru neasrly 25 years ago.

It is a matter of luck where the ducks may be out of the water during a brief stop. This pair was nowhere to be seen  at first but then the male was seen climbing onto a faraway rock with the female following a short time later. Not an ideal spot for a photograph given the rocks that were nearer the bridge but never than no ducks at all.


Monday, 14 September 2026

Francis Downes Ommanney: Becoming a zoologist in MacBride’s department at Imperial College and beyond

Earlier this year I wrote about Francis Downes Ommanney (1903-1980), universally known as ‘Dick', his short period as head of the fisheries research unit at the University of Hong Kong and his account of that period of his life in his book Fragrant Harbour. The last major book he wrote, The River Bank, was an autobiography of that part his life after leaving school up to the start of the Second World War. It was a follow-on from The House in the Park, an account of his very early life where his family lived in the ‘grave and favour’ house in Richmond Park on a lease given to his great-grandfather, Richard Owen by Queen Victoria.


The River Bank
, subtitled An Autobiography of the 1920s, published in 1966 reflects on his seemingly sad life, observing but never quite fitting in, succeeding but never quite so well as expected and haunted by the realisation of his homosexuality that was hinted at but never overtly acknowledged in his earlier books.

Ommanney was a very good writer as the awards for several of his books testify but when I read the book I found it also cast a great deal of light on that powerful, opinionated but woefully wrong character in academic zoology of the early 20th century, Ernest William MacBride FRS (1866-1940) who held the chair of zoology—Thomas Henry Huxley’s old chair—at Imperial College, London, I have written on MacBride previously HERE and quoted some of the  trenchant views of those who worked with him as a man obsessed with still promoting the Lamarckian means of evolution, of his opposition to Mendelian genetics and denial of the existence of genes, and his promotion of eugenics which he saw as a natural extension of Lamarckism.

Ommanney’s account of student life at Imperial College provides interesting information on what student life was like in the 1920s but also on the nature of MacBride’s interactions with his students and his lasting effect on them.

After a miserable time in a job in the City of London, Ommanney’s father thought the time had come for young Dick to be set on the course towards a proper, well-paid job. Surely with Richard Owen as a near ancestor something like entomology would provide a proper job in somewhere like the tropics went the argument. The financial state of the family had declined under Ommanney senior thus ruling out Oxford or Cambridge. Imperial College was deemed the place for Ommanney junior to study biology but the first step on the way to a biological income was the matriculation exams for London University. Crammers had the sole aim of success in the various examination papers. A pass in all papers of six subjects at a single sitting was required for matriculation. Ommanney had great difficulty with mathematics but was relieved to find his name on the pass list that was pinned on the notice board on the appointed day in August 1921, He was in.

For anybody keen to get to biology in 1922, the Royal College of Science component of Imperial College did not make it easy. He have to try to fit into life as a student, noting the division that existed in the student body along class lines:

On the one hand there were the middle-class boys, mostly from public schools, who for one reason or another had not gone on to one of the senior universities on leaving school, and on the other hand there were the working-class boys who, usually through hard work at a grammar or secondary school, had come to the Imperial College determined to make good and complete their technical education. The two groups looked down upon each other with dislike and contempt.

Furthermore, for aspiring biologists the first year was only chemistry, physics and maths. He managed chemistry (but cut his finger to the bone when trying to push a piece of glass tubing through a rubber bung—almost a beginner’s rite of passage) and physics but failed the compulsory maths. He therefore had to repeat a year with additional tuition, another expense for his father. In that year he had time on his hands and therefore sought the advice of MacBride on how to fill it.

I suppose Ernest MacBride (known to his friends, his enemies and his students as MacB.) would have been in his middle fifties at the time I first met him, but he seemed to me to be much older. His round bald head was fringed with a short stubble of white hair and his large furrowed brow jutted over a pair of small, shrewd, blue eyes. He wore a white bristly moustache. His round, tubby frame was compounded of a series of intersecting circles but he had a dropped shoulder which caused him to carry himself slightly lopsidedly. He had a flat-footed walk and a rasping cough which could be heard a long way off. His zoology department was at the top of the Victorian building and students, waiting in his lecture theatre, could hear the Professor arriving on the ground floor by his cough and his clear precise voice as he entered the lift eight floors below.

Although on analysis MacBride presented an eccentric, even odd, appearance, it never occurred to me at that first meeting, or at any time afterwards, that he was in the least an ugly man. The fire of his spirit burnt in those small blue eyes and there was a warmth in his manner that made even a humble student such as I was, coming to ask him how I should spend time before beginning his course, feel instantly comfortable and at ease. He was a pugnacious Ulsterman who, during his scientific career, made many enemies because of the directness and incisiveness with which he put forward his unpopular views, and in his seamed face there shone a keen, combative intellect. It is often said by the irreverent that scientists, especially zoologists and botanists, who develop a passionate life interest in a particular group of animals or plants, grow by degrees to resemble the objects of their lifetime study in appearance. MacBride's special and lifelong interest lay in the great group of five-rayed animals, 'nature's pentagonal experiment, the group that includes the sea-urchins, the sea-cucumbers and the sea-lilies. His rotund figure, large round head fringed with a short stubble and his prickly disposition where his own particular subject was concerned, caused the irreverent to compare him with one of the thorned, rounded sea-urchins about which he became so lyrical and eloquent in his lectures.

Ernest McBride
in
The Radio Times

Then, having started the course in zoology:

No two people could have been more different than my two zoology teachers. One, the Professor, was Ernest William MacBride, then at the height of his fame and pugnacity. The other, the Senior Lecturer, was Graham Cannon, at that time a young man of twenty-five but a rising star in the zoological fırmament. Later he became professor first at Sheffield and then at Manchester. When he was teaching me he was laying the foundations of his future fame with a series of beautiful and meticulous papers describing the filtration feeding mechanisms of very small crustaceans. These were masterpieces of technique and draughtsmanship and I remember thinking them magnificent but uninspiring.

The Professor himself, as seemed to be the custom in all departments of the college, lectured every morning to his elementary students, most of whom would go on to take degrees in other sciences after their preliminary zoology course. Cannon lectured to more advanced second and third year zoology students who were reading for a degree in zoology. There were seldom more than three or four of these in any one year. I was one of them because I had to graduate in zoology before I could go on to the insects (on the very top floor of the building) in my fourth year. As it turned out, owing to setbacks in mathematics, I did not in fact get there until my fifth year.

The teaching methods and approach to their subject of my two teachers were as different as their two characters. MacBride was all fire and poetry and he could strike sparks out of the most recondite subject. His discourses were a delight, peppered with quotations and apt allusions, often literary, because, like many of the great men who held chairs at South Kensington at that time, his head was among the stars. Unfortunately, however, the stars are not a very suitable vantage point from which to impart knowledge to elementary students struggling to acquire a first grasp of the subject, so that while the Professor's audience listened with rapt attention, they rose from their seats at the end of the lecture with their heads filled with ringing phrases but their notebooks blank. Cannon, on the other hand, attempted no flights to the stars. His lectures were pedestrian and unexciting to listen to, but admirably concise and clear and accompanied by splendid diagrams on the blackboard in coloured chalk which he gave his audience time to copy down, their heads buried in their notebooks. Whereas we rose from the Professor's lectures slightly dazed but enchanted, we rose from Cannon's feeling we had filled our magazines with ammunition for the exam which loomed ahead.

The students did have an outing:

The Professor was Vice-President of the London Zoo and Chairman of its Aquarium Committee. The aquarium was new in those days and once a year the Professor took his students on a conducted tour round the tanks. He was enormously proud of his aquarium which he had played a large part in bringing into existence. The tour was always a most enjoyable occasion for the Professor's vociferous eloquence often attracted quite a crowd of the general public. They were amazed to see this stout, white-haired old gentleman holding forth in stentorian tones and with such a proprietary air.

'I reckon 'e must be somebody,' said a woman on the out-skirts.

Another member of the paying public was less impressed. "This fellah's just a bloody nuisance," I heard a voice growl.

An apocryphal story relates that one year the Professor was conducting round the aquarium a party of students which included a lady research worker who was studying the breeding habits of small sharks and dogfish. In one tank two speckled dogfish were caught in the very lists of love on the sandy bottom while their fellow inmates glided unnoting to and fro. The Professor became quite transported with joy at this spectacle. 'For God's sake!' he stormed, shouting as usual at the top of his voice. 'For God's sake, where's Miss Smith? They're copulating!’

There was also the field course in marine biology at Plymouth where he found himself eating alongside Julian Huxley and Carl Pantin.

Then, of course, there were the seminars:

Once a month there were larger and more formal occasions than these which were more like serious scientific meetings. These, known as MacBride's tea parties, became famous, almost notorious, functions in the lively zoological world of London. They became so popular, attended by visitors from all over London, that tea became quite elaborate and was served in one of the laboratories. The old laboratory attendant put on a white coat and clumped around in his enormous boots with plates of cakes. The Professor and Cannon waged war over him.

Cannon wanted him got rid of and said so, but the Professor, who was a soft-hearted, kindly man, refused and sheltered the old scoundrel under his wing. After tea we all trooped up to the main zoology lecture theatre to hear a distinguished member of the company read a paper on a zoological subject. 'Read' was the operative word in many cases, for on the whole zoologists seem to be extraordinarily bad speakers and often have the gift of making the most interesting subject tedious beyond description. Many a scientific meeting have I slept through…Much of the floor space behind the seating was occupied by human and animal skeletons, stuffed apes, mammals, birds and reptiles. It must have been fifty years since that red stag was shot and now it stands there with glass eye and moth-eaten fur. There were dusty, scruffy birds and fishes hanging from the ceiling, poised for half a century in a moment of flight or swimming. But these grim spectators did not in the least inhibit the discussions that took place after the lectures, and the Professor could be relied upon to ginger things up. I used to experience a kind of thrilling embarrassment at seeing the sparks fly among these giants of science. It was the same sensation as that which I had experienced years before when, as a child, I found myself present at squabbles between my grandmother and my mother or my aunts. I wondered if I ought to be there and tried to make myself as small as possible lest they should suddenly remember me and send me out of the room. I remember feeling rooted to my seat when a famous professor from another college, whose name was a household word, an Olympian figure to me, stormed out of the lecture theatre, saying, 'Well, if that's your attitude there's no point in continuing the discussion.' Or when another irascible but renowned zoologist said he thought the Professor was talking absolute poppycock'.

The storms nearly always arose around the imperturbable figure of MacBride who, when the light of battle was in his eye, had the peculiarly Irish gift of infuriating his adversaries. His views were extremely controversial and he advanced them with all the provocative punch at his command…

The effect of a charismatic, opinionated but wrong-headed professor on the naive mind of his or her students is a worrying in the 2026 as it was a hundred years ago. There were only three students in Ommanney’s year on the advanced zoology course. He wrote: 'Naturally I was a Lamarckian like my professor'. Another, Thomas Arthur Manly Nash who worked mainly on Africa and became the expert on the tsetse fly, agreed. The third, an Egyptian, remained neutral. But all these students faced a oncoming problem. Internal examinations for a diploma were set by MacBride and Cannon. After the final year though they all sat for the London honours degree:

…and here was an agonising dilemma. If a question on evolution were set, as it almost certainly would be, would it be set by MacBride or by one of his opponents? What was a poor student to do who only wanted to please the examiners?

Ommanney’s time with MacBride was coming to an end; his final year was to be spent with the entomologists on the top floor. He passed the college finals ‘with flying colours’ and ‘over 95% marks’. It was he wrote, ‘the first real success of my life’:

…’My dear boy!’ said MacBride, ‘a masterly paper! My heartiest congratulations. You will go far.’

The next year dampened Ommanney’s enthusiasm for entomology. The year after that saw him in the job of Assistant Lecturer at the East London College, later Queen Mary College, on the Mile End Road. He was paid £300 a year:

The zoology department of the East London College was fairly new in those days and was housed in a corrugated-iron building tucked away behind the college near some tennis courts and overlooking the back-yards of a long row of little black houses. It contained a lecture room, a laboratory and several other smaller rooms, including one all for me with a large desk and a work bench along the window, so that I felt very much coming up in the world.

The majority of the students to whom I dispensed my so recently acquired learning were first year medicals doing elementary zoology. They had to do a preliminary biology course at the college before going on in their second year to the medical course at the London Hospital in Whitechapel. In the cause of medical science, and so perhaps in that of suffering humanity, these boys and a few girls, mostly from the east end of London, eviscerated each year several dozen earthworms, crayfish, dog-fish, frogs and rabbits. While they did this I walked up and down the laboratory behind their bent backs and occasionally helped them on by applying a needle or a scalpel myself, hoping not to make their confusion worse confounded by doing so. Sometimes, indeed, the butchery was so frightful that the only thing to do was to sacrifice another earthworm or frog in the cause so that a fresh start might be made.

I did not really like teaching very much and found it difficult to get into the minds of the young men peering in sad puzzlement or faint, amused scorn at the mangled specimens pinned out in their dissecting dishes…I am afraid I found most of the students rather dull and slow-witted. Some of them were plainly uninterested and unable to understand why a course in elementary biology should be necessary as a preliminary to medicine…

I suppose it would be churlish to ask how many of these incompetent dissectors (and do not ask me how I ran out of patience while digging out the cranial nerves of my school dogfish) made it into the Royal College of Surgeons.

Ommanney had only one academic colleague, the senior lecturer in charge of the tiny department, John Henry Dobb*. He only attended on three mornings a week; he also lectured at a polytechnic institute in the West End of London. Dobb confessed to knowing little zoology and yet Ommanney noted he had the reputation of being one ‘of the finest, most successful and most experienced teachers of elementary zoology in London’. There was, however, a problem; a large and embarrassing problem. Dobb was a loud, confrontational anti-semite. He hated the Jews—and they constituted half his class. He often launched into a tirade at the top of his voice while students were waiting in the lecture theatre. Ommanney wrote:

For some mental or psychological trauma, acquired perhaps during the First World War, in which his only son had been killed, had implanted in his mind an idée fixe which, in the course of years, had grown into the proportions of a mania. He believed, with all the conviction of which a simple man is capable, that all the evils of the world without any exception, both temporal and spiritual, must be ascribed to a single basic cause, a worldwide Zionist plot. To the machinations of world Jewry he attributed every misfortune in modern society, the last war, mounting unemployment, the rising cost of living, high income tax and any other circumstance you might like to mention….

These cracked beliefs took the form of a continuous outpouring of racial hatred which, ten years later, the most ardent Nazi could hardly have surpassed. Every Jew, it appeared, was guilty from Lord Reading and Lord Rothschild to the humblest bespectacled student in the zoology practical class.

Ommanney found that in his classes the Jews and the Gentiles got on fine. But when standing in for a sick Dobb, he found the lecture theatre occupied in a peculiar way. All the non-Jews were in the front rows, there were then empty benches until the back benches had all the Jewish students. When he asked what was the reason he was told Dobb had instructed them to be so segregated. Ommanney told them to sit in alphabetical order from the front. Things came to a head when Dobb returned and exploded at the revised seating. The whole thing ended in a melée with Dobb sat upon by two Jewish students who were, in turn, pulled off by two of the Gentiles. A full brawl developed and then those made to sit at the back went off to report the whole affair to the Principal.

Ommanney was reluctant to join in a condemnation of Dobb since he was normally friendly and helpful. Those running the college treated Dobb leniently, seeming to recognise he was hopelessly adrift, but on written instruction from the Principal Ommanney’s seating arrangement was imposed. Within a year Dobb retired and died a few years after that.

London Adventures and Family Life

Very slowly, after becoming a student at Imperial, Ommanney was persuaded into taking part in student social life. Living in London his social circle spread and even for a while became a deb’s delight; he was obviously if not perhaps to his dancing partners ‘safe in taxis’. He also describes happenings in his family. His father became odder and odder, the family fortunes thus declined further while the standard of housing they could afford plummeted. He also started to have homosexual encounters and it is clear that he participated, if sometimes more an observer than an active player, in what would now I supposed be called the gay scene in London, with its meeting places and meaningful phrases. He described one gathering place as a large tea-room not far from Piccadilly Circus. Around five pm but not at any other time the “men of a certain character” made their entrance via a raised dais, nicknamed the ‘Lily Pond’. Other venues were the promenade at the back of the dress circle of the Alhambra Theatre and the Fitzroy Tavern on Charlotte Street, a pub with which I became familiar when in need of a break from meetings of the Society of Endocrinology being held in the old Middlesex Hospital Medical School in the late 1960s and 70s.

Ommanney also commented on the change in meaning or acceptance into daily use of terms between the 1920s and the 1960s; ‘camp’ and ‘send up’ were two examples he gave. It is also clear, though perhaps Ommanney did not realise it, that ‘man-about-town’ has en entirely different meaning now compared with the 1920s. Then it referred to those ‘men of a certain character’.

That chapter of The River Bank ends with:

In my case at any rate few permanent relationships resulted from my casual contacts, though I still count among my friends a few people whom I met all those years ago. Usually telephone numbers and addresses were exchanged. My temporary friend smiled, shook my hand and faded into the blurred and dusty picture which is the memory of troubled youth.

Moving On: The Discovery Committee Expeditions

Ommanney became disillusioned and discontented. He could see no escape from the emptiness and lack of direction. He had completed three years and the prospect of starting all over again on the standard ‘types’ of the zoology course for first M.B. students depressed him. Because he find time on his hands he had early on asked MacBride for advice on a research project that he could do. But nothing of value emerged from the conversation. MacBride had moved on to next year’s brood. He did get a topic from D.M.S. Watson at University College: the development of the ear in the frog. That involved rearing tadpoles through metamorphosis but like many before and since he found that they died in the final stages. Although making piles of serial sections he never took to the task and he abandoned it, unable at the end to remember what the problem was he was meant to be solving.

Then he saw a job advertised in The Times. It was to join the scientific staff of the Discovery Committee which used Scott’s old ship for research expeditions in the Antarctic. He applied, supported by a glowing reference from Dobb, not thinking he stood a chance of being successful. But he was and off he went to South Georgia for the season, then in the southern winter to Durban to continue working on whales and then back to South Georgia. He returned home in summer 1931 to find the ‘Lily Pond’ and the Alhambra still in full swing and a further decline in his parents’ fortunes. Two further trips, each of two years, to the Antarctic followed. Between the cruises and until war broke out in 1939 he worked on specimens collected in the Natural History Museum, passing each day the statue of his great-grandfather. In 1938 he also headed north in a trawler and all these activities were the topics of the books which made his name as an author.

Dick Ommanney’s legacy that of a writer rather than as a zoologist. However, I suspect that he was a much better zoologist than he considered himself to be. And MacBride was probably right. Ommanney did go far but not in the way that either expected.


A website about the Ommanney family provides the following caption:
From The River Bank. Back L to R: Francis Downes Ommanney,
Francis Frederick Ommanney, Rupert John Ommanney,Theoroda
Ommanney. Front L to R: Olive Ommanney (nee Owen), Olive Mary
Ommanney and Lorne Currie. The wedding was that of Olive and Lorne
(2 September 1904 - 29 May 1941) on 29 August 1929.
FDO had just heard of the success of his application to join the Discovery II.
 'I went down to Mary's wedding with excitement and adventure before me
and new a joy and hope almost as great as, though different from, hers.'


*I can find no trace of a John Henry Dobb that matches the dates and details, nor of a son killed in the First World War. Perhaps Ommanney was using a pseudonym.


Tuesday, 8 September 2026

Flame-rumped Tanager. Colombia 2025


Every day bananas are put on a feeder along the fence line of the garden by the owner of Kumanday Lodge which is situated on the edge of the village of La Florida in Colombia.  The village is at 1,670 metres (5,480 ft) on the western side of the Cordillera Central of the northern Andes.

This eye-catching male Flame-rumped Tanager (Ramphocelus flammigerus) was a regular at the bananas while we were staying. There are two sub-species recognised. The other (R. f. icteronotus), from further west, has yellow instead of red in its plumage. There is a hybrid zone between the two where the colour grades from yellowish-orange to reddish-orange. Recent evidence suggests the two populations had once been separated but had met again without ever becoming different species.

The tanager is found from the south of Panama and along a fairly narrow strip of western Colombia to western Ecuador. It is a true tanager (family Thraupidae).

Morales-Rozo A, Tenorio EA, Carling MD, Cadena CD. 2017. Origin and cross-century dynamics of an avian hybrid zone. BMC Evolutionary Biology 17:257. doi:10.1186/s12862-017-1096-7

 

Monday, 7 September 2026

Salt Glands Revisited. 4. Aaron Myron Taub and the salt glands of sea snakes

Fifty-two years ago the late Jim Linzell and I were writing our monograph, Salt Glands in Birds and Reptiles, for the Physiological Society's Monograph Series; it was published in May 1975. In this series I revisit some of the topics and people who followed up the discovery of salt glands in birds by Knut Schmidt-Nielsen.

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Some scientists make an impact in a particular field early in their lives and then move on to other topics or into other jobs entirely. Their contributions therefore go unsung when histories and biographies are written about particular disciplines. The late Aaron M. Taub falls into that category. I was reminded of his work in the 1960s because it came up in my previous article on the very mild venomous nature of the Smooth Snake and I recalled his work on sea snakes which he did with Bill Dunson at Penn State University.

In the mid-1960s Dunson and Taub discovered salt glands in sea snakes. They did so by dinding a highly concentrated salt solution is excreted from the mouth and then set about finding which gland of the numerous candidates the salt was coming from. The search initially provided a false lead but later work by Bill Dunson after Taub had gone from the scene found the salt is secreted by what the posterior sublingual gland which empties into the tongue sheath. Thus the salt glands of sea snakes were found not to be nasal glands as in birds, nor orbital glands as in turtles.

As the decades have passed it now seems that the posterior sublingual gland has become a salt-secreting gland on three independent occasions during the evolution of snakes that live in marine or estuarine conditions: in the sea-kraits (genus Laticauda); in the common ancestor of the hydrophine sea snakes; in the unrelated snake Acrochordus granulatus. In addition, there is evidence that a different oral gland—the premaxillary—has evolved into a salt gland independently three or four times in those snakes of the family Homalopsidae, the mud snakes of Indo-Australia which live in a salty environment.

The number of glands opening into the oral cavity and their nomenclature has offered great scope for confusion since terms used for structures in snakes named after what were though to be their mammalian counterparts have been shown to be incorrect. For example, the ‘parotid’ gland of snakes was found not to be homologous with the mammalian parotid. The oral glands also perform a number of functions in addition to those like lubrication and defensive against microbes that we associate with mammalian saliva. Oral glands have become venom glands and, as described above, salt glands.

Laticauda colubrina, Banded Sea Krait
Jens Petersen, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia


It was Taub who made an early attempt to sort out the glands in the head of snakes. He published that work in 1966 and that is why he has been consistently quoted over the decades. His findings and suggestions for nomenclature, for example, have been discussed by those later on the scene, sometimes approvingly and sometimes disapprovingly. The nomenclature of the oral glands has proved contentious. His suggestion to name the ‘parotid’ of snakes as Duvernoy’s gland, in memory of George Louis Duvernoy (1777-1855) remains the term of choice for many working on the the venom-producing gland of rear-fanged snakes, despite its apparent homology with the ‘venom gland’ of front-fanged snakes.

Aaron Myron Taub was born in New Jersey on 21 December 1935. Searches in the usual genealogical sites and online newspaper archives, together with his own Linkedin profile which remains available have produced an outline of his life and what he did after moving on from matters herpetological. He was educated at Wagner College, New York in 1953-57 according to his Linkedin page. However, these dates may be out by a year since he can be found serving in the US Navy as a ‘hospitalman’ between December 1955 until mid 1957. Taub appears to have done most of his research while a postgraduate student with Carl Gans (1923-2009) at the State University of New York at Buffalo in, according to Linkedin, from 1960 until 1964. Thereafter he was an Assistant Professor in the Department of Zoology at Penn State University at least until 1968 when his first son was born. It was there that he worked with Bill Dunson on sea snakes.

Aaron Taub then changed direction entirely. He worked for the Canadian and US subsidiaries of the now defunct British pharmaceutical and fertiliser company Fisons. By 1985 he was Senior Regulatory Affairs Scientist at the Fisons site in Bedford, Massachusetts. As well as being involved in various and apparently well known legal battles involving the company and the Food and Drug Administration of the USA, Taub also arranged the supply of an important leukotriene receptor antagonist the company had developed to those working on asthma and lung function. The Linkedin account suggests he retired from Fisons in 1992 and from 2009 was a patient at Highlands Living Centre, a nursing home in Pittsford, New York.

Aaron Myron Taub died on 18 April 2014 in Pittsford, leaving his wife, Rosemary (née Dessel), two children and three grandchildren.

And I cannot help but note that any ophidiophiles reading this article will realise that Taub’s second name, Myron, is also that of a genus of rear-fanged venomous snakes, commonly called ‘mangrove snakes’ found from Australia through Indonesia.

Publications in order of year published

Gans C, Taub AM. 1964. Precautions for keeping poisonous snakes in captivity. Curator. The Museum Journal 7, 196-205.

Taub AM. 1964. Antivenins available for the treatment of snake bite. Toxicon 2, 71-77.

Taub AM, Elliott WB. 1967. Some effects of snake venoms on mitochondria. Toxicon 2, 87-92.

Taub AM. 1966. Ophidian cephalic glands. Journal of Morphology 118, 529-541.

Taub AM, Dunson WA. 1966. Salt glands in sea snakes (Squamata, Laticauda). American Zoologist 6, 18.

Dunson WA, Taub AM. 1966. A new gland in sea snakes (Squamata, Reptilia). American Zoologist 6, 365.

Taub AM. 1967. Comparative Histological Studies on Duvernoy’s gland of colubrid snakes. Bulletin of the American Museum of Natural History 138, 1-50.

Taub AM, Dunson WA. 1967. The salt gland in a sea snake (Laticauda). Nature 215, 995-996.

Dunson WA, Taub AM. 1967. Extrarenal salt excretion in sea snakes (Laticauda). American Journal of Physiology 213, 975-982.

de Oliveira L, Gower DJ, Wilkinson M, Segall M. 2024. Comparative morphology of oral glands in snakes of the family Homalopsidae reveals substantial variation and additional independent origins of salt glands within Serpentes. Journal of Anatomy 244, 708-721. DOI: 10.1111/joa.14005

Jackson TNW, Young B, Underwood G, McCarthy CJ, Kochva E, Vidal N, van der Weerd, L, Nabuurs R, Dobson J, Whitehead D, Vonk FJ, Hendrikx I, Hay C, Fry BG. 2016. Endless forms most beautiful: the evolution of ophidian oral glands, including the venom system, and the use of appropriate terminology for homologous structures. Zoomorphology 136, 107-130. DOI 10.1007/s00435-016-0332-9