Thursday, 21 August 2014

Loch Doon for Ayrshire Ospreys—and butterflies and dragonflies

We took he opportunity last week to drive 20 minutes from home to see the Ospreys at Loch Doon just in time to see the second of the two chicks still in the nest. It was fed by the parents while we enjoyed bacon and egg rolls sitting outside the Roundhouse Cafe on the shores of the loch and looking at the nest through the telescope. The chick was vigorously exercising its wings at the edge of the nest and later reports indicated that it too left the nest that day. A few days ago parents and young were still around the nest site. Females are said to leave for West Africa first, leaving the male to feed the young after they leave the nest; the males and the young then start their migration south.

The Roundhouse Cafe has a telescope for visitors to use. The nesting platform is on the other side of the loch and I was very pleased to have my 40x eyepiece on the Televid. I did not have digiscoping kit with me and the photograph is blown up from a shot taken with the equivalent of a 1000 mm lens on a full-frame 35 mm camera using a Nikon P510.


Readers outwith the UK might think it a little strange to go to see a bird that is so common in many countries. Those within the UK will recognise the Osprey as an icon of virtual extinction and recovery (from zero in 1950 to about 250 breeding pairs at present) while those in Ayrshire are celebrating the first successful breeding in the old county.

Walks in the Loch Doon area are usually productive in terms of wildlife, especially in the spring as the migrant birds arrive. On this August day, Scotch Argus butterflies were on the hillsides and the Golden-ringed Dragonfly over shallow streams that run into the River Doon after it emerges from Ness Glen.

Scotch Argus (Erebia aethiops)   Photo: AJP
Hillside habitat of the Scotch Argus   Photo: AJP
Golden-ringed Dragonfly (Cordulegaster boltonii)   Photo AJP
View from above the road leading to Loch Doon. Bogton Loch in the distance
with Craigengillan House on the left. A good spot for cuckoos and crossbills
Photo: AJP
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Loch Doon
http://www.ayrshirescotland.com/loch-doon.html
https://www.facebook.com/VisitLochDoon
http://www.ayrshire-birding.org.uk/category/locations_east_ayrshire/

Tuesday, 19 August 2014

Alfred at Bristol Zoo: What Sort of Gorilla Was He?

When writing the previous post, I must confess to a degree of confusion as to the identity of Alfred, the famous gorilla at Bristol Zoo from 1930 until his death in 1948.

Alfred (from Schomberg's British Zoos)
This is what the fully referenced Wikipedia entry has to say (with my bold):

Alfred was initially found by an Expedition from the American Museum of Natural History, New York and Columbia University in 1928 in what was then Belgian Congo. The expedition members were told that a pair of gorillas had been shot for ‘raiding’ a farmer’s field for food, afterwards a baby was discovered and suckled by a local woman. The baby gorilla was later sold to a Greek merchant and taken to the town of Mbalmayo in modern day Cameroon, where the expedition encountered him playing in the streets. He was described by the Expedition as ‘the liveliest specimen of his kind we had ever seen’.

In 1830 [1930] Alfred was sold to an Italian who, after bringing him to Europe, sold him on to an animal dealer. Bristol Zoo, already successful in rearing chimpanzees, acquired Alfred for £350. Alfred spent a few months housed in Rotterdam in 1930 before continuing to Bristol Zoo. Alfred was reputedly named for Alfred Mosley, a benefactor of the zoo. Although during his life he was thought to be a Mountain Gorilla, it is more likely that he was a Western Lowland Gorilla.

His stuffed skin appears to be that of a Western Lowland Gorilla but I can see how people got confused. This is what Geoffrey Schomberg (1927-1997) wrote in British Zoos (1957):

Bristol Zoo will always be associated with the name of Alfred, the most famous gorilla that ever lived in captivity. When he was only a few months old, his parents were shot raiding while raiding a plantation in the Kivu Mountains of equatorial Africa. He was suckled by a native woman, and passed through the hands of a Greek merchant, an Italian who brought him to Europe, and a Dutch animal dealer, from whom he was purchased by the Zoo on 30 September 1930. He was then two years old and weighed two stone.

If Schomberg’s account was correct, then Alfred would have been a Mountain Gorilla from the Kivu Mountains, well outside the range of the Western Lowland Gorilla. However, contemporary newspaper reports describe a different location for ‘Kivu’. This is the Exeter and Plymouth Gazette of 11 September 1930 (before the date given by Schomberg of Alfred’s purchase):

“Have you seen Alfred.” That is what the people of Bristol are saying to one another…They [gorillas] are very rare and very shy, and are confined to a small area in the Cameroons and the Kivu district on the West Coast of Africa.

Was there a misunderstanding somewhere along the line of his origin, and ‘Kivu’ perhaps assumed to be the mountains of Kivu province in the Belgian Congo (now Democratic Republic of Congo, Congo Kinshasa)? Was ‘Kivu’ a garbled version of a different location as Alfred was passed along the line?

The Wikipedia entry has Alfred Mosley as the zoo’s benefactor after whom the gorilla was named, whereas Hannah Paddon in Sam Alberti’s The Afterlives of Animals spells it Sir Alfred Moseley. I have been unable to find much information on the human Alfred, other than that he may have made his money in South Africa (the gorilla cost the equivalent of about £20,000 in today’s money) and he may have led missions to the USA to examine their industrial and employment methods in the early 1900s.

Has anybody any more information on Alfred’s identity, the gorilla that is?

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Wikipedia entry for Alfred
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred_the_Gorilla
Paddon H. 2011. Biological objects and "mascotism". The life and times of Alfred the gorilla. In Alberti SJMM, The Afterlives of Animals. University of Virginia Press
Schomberg G. 1957. British Zoos. London: Wingate

Monday, 18 August 2014

A Visit to Gorillas in the Congo

One of my earliest memories is of the first non-domestic animal I saw—a gorilla, ’Alfred’ at Bristol Zoo in summer 1946. The snapshot in my brain has the zoo entrance to the left and Alfred’s cage in front of me. My great (grand in genealogical terminology) uncle and aunt and my grandparents are to my left and my parent are to my right. Alfred is dragging a piece of sacking from left to right.

Alfred was an animal celebrity and a source of great pride in Bristol where he lived from 1930 until he died in 1948.

Another gorilla but this time a dead one also made a strong impression on a little boy.‘George’ (I cannot remember his ever been called this in the 1950s) was in the natural history museum at Wollaton Hall. Mounted impressively, upright, hanging on a tree, with his teeth bared and reproductive organs in full view (small remember in the gorilla) he towered above the visitors and this small boy can remember being more than a little scared every time I was taken to see him (probably two or three times a year). George is still there but Wollaton Hall as a natural history museum is a shadow of its former self and confirms my belief that museum display professionals must learn to leave things alone. This gorilla, I read now, was bought by Nottingham Corporation from the 1878 Paris Exposition held to mark the recovery of France from the Franco-Prussian War.

The next time I saw Alfred he was stuffed and on display in the Bristol’s museum, still the cause of great civic pride as recounted by Hannah Paddon in Sam Alberti’s The Afterlives of Animals. That was in 1957. Bristol Zoo went on to have other gorillas in the 1950s and I took photographs of the new accommodation when I went to my last visit to Bristol Zoo in 1963.

Bristol Zoo Gorilla House, 1963

As I wrote in my post of 16 June, the privilege of being able to visit groups of Western Lowland Gorillas and observe the other mammals, birds, reptiles and amphibians in the Congo Basin is an experience of a lifetime. In the middle of May we were with a group of ten clients of Naturetrek in the camps in the Republic of Congo run by Wilderness Safaris, Ngaga and Lango, 340 miles from Brazzaville, both in or adjacent to the Odzala-Kokoua National Park.

At Ngaga we divided into parties of two or four and visited two groups of gorillas, each headed by a silverback, ‘Jupiter’ and ‘Neptune’. These gorillas were habituated by Dr Magda Bermejo and her colleagues. Because of the effects of outbreaks of ebola on the population, the IUCN classification of the Western Lowland Gorilla is 'critically endangered’.

Filming was difficult through the thick vegetation. The camera was often at arms length and liable to shake. However, the footage below also shows the dense Marantaceae foliage, a major source of food for the gorillas, the environment in which they live and the sweat bees they have to put up with. What the video does not show is a female gorilla moving behind us and coming closer to see what we were about. She had a good look from a few yards away and then moved on to join the rest of the group as they climbed into the tops of the trees.

I shall never forget the sight of Neptune climbing the tree with consummate ease—and even striking the pose of the long-dead George. But the large tooth display was the result of a languid yawn as he paused before climbing even higher.



There is no greater privilege in the world than seeing a group of lowland gorillas in the wild in the Congo—sixty-eight years after seeing that unfortunate but great ambassador for gorillas, Alfred.

Thursday, 7 August 2014

Garden Butterflies in Ayrshire

Ayrshire sometimes delivers wildlife spectaculars; this week we had one in the garden. Sometimes, in good summers in North Britain we get a good display of butterflies. Yesterday, there were about twenty feeding on the buddleia (Buddleja davidii): Peacocks, Red Admirals and Small Tortoiseshells. We rarely see Red Admirals and never before in such numbers as this year. I used my Nikon P510 superzoom bridge camera to get a few shots with the zoom fully extended (1000 mm in 35 mm full-frame terms). Early in the year Small Tortoiseshells were on the buddleia in the front garden (Buddleja alternifolia). The latter is a magnet for the Painted Lady but so far this year this species has not put in an appearance.

Peacock

Red Admiral
Small Tortoiseshell

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

Keeping Reptiles and Amphibians: Enthusing Young Zoologists

Keeping reptiles and amphibians, small mammals and birds in captivity was the accepted way of finding out about animals and many professional biologists who have made major contributions to their fields were enthused during their schooldays by the animals in their aquaria, vivaria, cages and aviaries.

Since the 1950s, knowledge of how to keep and breed small animals has advanced by leaps and bounds. From statements in books of the time that reptiles do not breed in captivity, breeding is now routine to the extent that captive-bred reptiles rather than birds abound in pet shops in Britain. Much, if not most, of that increase in knowledge came from amateur keepers, not from those working in zoos.

The general public is now far more sympathetic to reptiles and amphibians than they were since they have the opportunity to see and handle specimens at school and in zoos or specialist collections, or at home. The health and welfare of captive specimens has increased alongside an increase in veterinary participation (unheard of in the 1950s and 60s). Captive animals have increasingly become ambassadors for conservation, as well as temporary repositories for endangered species. That is all on the plus side.

On the minus side, the fancier mentality has taken hold, joining aviculture and fish-keeping in undermining the good reasons for keeping animals in captivity. The many colour forms of species forged by natural selection, are a sad travesty of the real thing being produced by a psychological state (plus a desire for profit) that I neither understand nor condone.

I have started another blog to cover the history of keeping small vertebrates in relation to the advances that have been made in the past century. In other words, some of the many things that interest me and have kept me interested as a sideline to my professional research interests for the past fifty-six years. At that site, you can download the only books we had available in Britain then and see just how limited our knowledge was as on how to keep and breed reptiles and amphibians, in particular.


The new site which will run in parallel with this one is at:
http://waicblog.wordpress.com

Wednesday, 23 July 2014

Journal Prices: How Science and Science Funding Lose Out

A few weeks ago a paper in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the USA* hit the headlines. It compared the cost of journal ‘bundles’ sold by ‘for-profit’ and ‘non-profit’ publishers to university libraries in the USA, under confidential terms revealed only by freedom of information requests to state-funded institutions. Not surprisingly the commercial publishers charged more for their bundles of journals. However, the size of the bundles from different publishers obviously varied. In order to get an idea of value for money, the authors then used the citation rating of a journal to obtain the price per citation for each bundle. Not surprisingly, the cost/citation was higher for journals bought from commercial publishers than from ‘nonprofits’. They must be higher since that is why commercial publishers are in business; they are not charities.

However, in using citation indices at all, the authors sadly scored an own-goal. Citation, as a measure of scientific worth, is utterly corrosive to scientific worth. I will not repeat the old arguments here since David Colquhoun’s Improbable Science Blog continues to do a fine demolition job.

In using citation indices at all, the authors of the PNAS paper provide ammunition to the commercial publishers. They can continue to extract money from publicly-funded science while researchers feel compelled by peer or institutional personnel policies to submit papers to journals with a high impact factor. Some commercial publishers have become highly skilled at recruiting editors (usually working at least in part in their employer’s time) and editorial boards who work in popular and active, i.e. inherently highly citable, fields. A successful journal in citation terms can therefore be a moneyspinner.

The ‘nonprofit’ publisher can also be a misnomer. University presses and society journals may also be run for profit, in fact ones I have been associated with were and still are. Journal profits are used to fund other society activities like travel grants and scholarships. In Britain, journals are often set up as subsidiary trading companies covenanting profits to their parent society, thereby preserving the charitable status of the society and avoiding corporation tax on their profits. The fact that society journals do not sell for as much as commercially-published journals can probably be attributed to a lack of marketing expertise (i.e. brass neck) and general commercial nous than to a desire to keep prices low. Open publishing is as welcome to those societies that rely on journal profits to sustain their activities as it is to commercial publishers. An irony of the article in PNAS is that to see it you have to pay for it!

Until I retired I was closely involved in deciding what money should be spent on library subscriptions. The first rule in dealing with publishers is never let a librarian have any role other than in providing data. Librarians just hate to discontinue the run of a journal. The second rule is monitor usage of current journals. The third rule is to threaten to cancel a whole bundle and do so if the price asked does not fall; the price asked soon falls. The calculation we used in deciding whether to cancel other than the obviously key journals was: would it be cheaper to get the required copies of articles from the British Library than buy the journal. In this way, savings on journals could be, and was, spent employing and equipping scientists.

The PNAS article draws attention to only part of the story. Allowing publishers to charge exorbitant prices to download old articles, sometimes more than 50 years old, is an absolute rip-off. ‘Nonprofit’ scientific societies that allow commercial publishers to handle their journal sales are as guilty as the rest in this respect. 

So, until scientists stop chasing citations, until action is taken to stop publishers charging excessively for old articles, until scientists stop providing commercial publishers with their own and their employer’s services for nothing and until libraries stop buying their wares the publishers will continue to ‘gouge’†† science and science funders.


Fully open access, to publishing and reading of past works as well as present, must be the goal. And if that means changes to copyright law then get on with changing it. The PNAS paper at least shows ‘market failure’ that catch all trigger for government intervention. Action This Day is not even soon enough.

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Bergstrom T C, Courant P N, McAfee, R P, Williams M A. 2014. Evaluating big deal journal bundles. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the USA , early edition doi:10.1073/pnas.1403006111

† Article in The Guardian:  http://bit.ly/1jvrLaU

‡ http://www.dcscience.net/?p=6636

†† employing the North American term, as in Jerry Coyne’s Blog at Why Evolution is True:
http://bit.ly/1nUeQQM








Tuesday, 22 July 2014

Abominable Snowman: Yetis from The Long Walk to Bear mtDNA

The recent paper on genetic analysis of hair samples from possible unknown species, brought back memories of the hunt for the  ‘abominable snowman’ or ‘yeti’ in the 1950s. For I was born within sight of ‘Cloud House’ in Sandiacre, Derbyshire (but on the Nottinghamshire side of the border across the River Erewash) which became the home sometime in the 1950s of Slavomir Rawicz, author of The Long Walk. Rawicz said he had seen such creatures while crossing the Himalayas in his tale of escaping from a Soviet camp and walking to freedom in India. To schoolboys in Stapleford, and probably to a greater extent to those in Sandiacre, whom we never met since they went to different county schools, it could only be a matter of time before somebody discovered what the beast was. With a celebrity author on the doorstep it could not be anything else.

Over the years, we have been disappointed. Lead after lead brought false hope and no convincing evidence. We could not stay in our 1950s state of superior knowledge for long (It shouldn’t be called the abominable snowman, the proper name is yeti, we would proclaim in the playground).

The yeti is where one set of myths and legends meets another set of myths and legends. The first set is about The Long Walk itself as I discovered a short while ago when I remembered Slavomir Rawicz and wondered what had happened to him (he died in 2004). I read the book at the age of 13 when the Companion Book Club edition arrived in the post. I was completely unaware his book had come under attack for being a fabrication (even allowing for journalistic licence on the part of the ghost writer, Ronald Downing of the Daily Mail, the newspaper which had funded a 1954 expedition to find the yeti). A number of reviewers of the book were highly sceptical at the time of publication and the intensity of investigation and speculation increased markedly over the past ten years or so. I have read numerous websites and Linda Willis’s book, Looking for Mr Smith, published in 2010, which attempted to find all the available evidence. Emerging records from Poland and Russia appeared to indicate that Rawicz could not have walked all the way from Siberia to India. Then other Polish émigrés in Britain claimed that they had made the walk and that Rawicz had not. But the records, if correct, appeared to rule these claims out as well.

Having read the available information, my view is that the story is an amalgam of the tribulations of Polish prisoners who escaped or who were released after Stalin’s amnesty in 1941 and then made their way from the USSR to join General Anders’s army which gathered at Pahlevi in Persia before going on to Palestine and to fight as Polish II Corps alongside the British Eighth Army in Italy. Surviving fragments of evidence suggest that some may indeed have walked from Siberia to India. Conversations between Anders’s troops on what happened to groups and individuals after they came together at Pahlevi could have provided the basis for such an amalgamation into one story. I also have the feeling that while Rawicz was named as the author, he may have been writing on behalf of a group of individuals, some of whom could not be named because of possible danger to family and friends left behind the Iron Curtain, and writing to ensure that the story of the horrors the Poles faced in Stalin’s USSR and their escape to fight for freedom would not be forgotten. Rawicz himself though in numerous interviews and correspondence defended his book to the last. Whether the real truth will ever be discovered I do not know. However, for the present story, the connection with the yeti is of interest. This is where the first set of myths and legends meets the second.

From some reports I have read, in January 1954 the Daily Mail published an article describing Rawicz’s encounter with yetis and that Downing then went to see him at home near Nottingham in order follow the story up; out of that meeting came The Long Walk. However, I have also seen that the January 1954 article was written by Downing (The Snowman: The Strangest Story Yet, Daily Mail, 7 January). How Rawicz’s yeti story came to be in the newspapers at all I do not know, and none of those who have avidly researched the veracity of The Long Walk seem to have looked into what I see as an important element in the story of how the book came to be written (I have not seen the early newspaper articles but would like to hear from someone who has). This is what Linda Willis wrote about the initial contact between Rawicz and Downing:

It was during 1954, with the increasing interest in Mount Everest, that word trickled down through contacts, either in the field of journalism or through returned servicemen, that there was someone living in the English Midlands who had been through an incredible adventure, including sightings of abominable snowmen.

If it was Downing's story that appeared on 7 January 1954, then it would have been during 1953, not 1954, that 'word trickled down'. That, however, gets us no nearer to determining what Rawicz’s motives were in seeking or accepting publicity for his claimed sighting of yetis.

In view of the doubts about Rawicz’s book, did he really see some animals that he could not identify himself at some stage in his travels? If he had not then he was obviously only too willing to perpetuate the mischief since a young friend of the family in one of the online discussions states that Rawicz gave him a sketch of the creatures. On the back was Rawicz’s signature and the inscription ‘Observed in the spring of 1942’.

So I turn from the continuing debate, with its mixture of real historical researchers and conspiracy theorists, on the Long Walk and Rawicz to consider real evidence in ‘cryptozoology’, that mixture of epi-zoology, psychology, anthropology and its own conspiracy theories I usually ignore.

The new properly-published genetic evidence is from mitochondrial DNA extracted from hair samples. Short sequences in a highly conserved gene from two samples of ‘yeti’ hair, one from Ladakh (golden-brown in colour) and one from Bhutan (reddish-brown), showed a 100% match to DNA recovered from a Pleistocene fossil of Ursus maritimus, the Polar Bear, but not with examples of modern polar bears. The authors consider three possibilities to explain the match: ‘a previously unrecognized bear species, colour variants of U. maritimus, or U. arctos [Brown Bear]/U. maritimus hybrids’. Hybridization is known between modern Polar and Brown bears in the wild and in captivity. The authors do not appear to have considered any involvement of the Himalayan Black Bear (Ursus thibetanus) in the mix which I find a little odd since they note that the hunter who shot the specimen in Ladakh noted that its kind ‘behave more aggressively towards humans than known indigenous bear species’ a characteristic of U. thibetanus (as well as of U. maritimus) compared with U. arctos.


The preliminary evidence suggests that a bear, with the strong possibility of an ancient polar bear as a maternal ancestor, accounts at least in part, and perhaps entirely, for the ‘yeti’.


This photograph of an American Black Bear (Ursus americanus) standing upright shows how easily a bear at a distance could be mistaken for a large humanoid primate, particularly if its head were pointed downwards while feeding on berries, for example. From George Jennison’s Natural History: Animals. London: Black. 1929

The thought also struck me last year when reading the brilliant biography of the physiologist, Griffith Pugh, Everest. The First Ascent, by his daughter Harriet Tuckey, that some sightings of humanoid animals by travellers in the Himalayas may have been not just humanoid but human. Tuckey wrote that in January 1961, a strange man walked into base camp at Mingbo (15000 ft, 4600 m). He was small, slight, barefoot and wearing only a turban, short jacket, cotton trousers and a shirt. He spent nights sheltered under a rock at temperatures below -10°C. He also had the curious habit of eating glass; microscope slides and pipettes preferred. It turned out that Man Badhur was a carpenter, and had come to the Mingbo Valley on a pilgrimage, the result of a religious revelation. Pugh who was fascinated by this pilgrim’s appearance made many physiological observations (published in 1963) to determine how Man Badhur survived the cold and, moreover, avoided frostbite.

However, my point is that perhaps Man Badhur was not a sole example of human animals walking and living off the land in the Himalayas. Such holy men could well appear at a distance to be some strange humanoid creature depending on what they were wearing.

In this post I have touched on myths and legends, from The Long Walk to the yeti. But I am still intrigued by Slavomir Rawicz’s description of an encounter with the latter. Was it him? Was it somebody else who had then told the story in Anders’s Army? Or was he seeking publicity for himself or the cause of exposing the foulness of Stalin’s USSR and just cashing in on the zeitgeist of all things Everest and the Himalayas in Britain after its first ascent on the eve of the Coronation in 1953? I just do not know.

Away from myths and legends, the scientific interest now lies in sorting out just what the bears of the Himalayas are and where they came from.

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Genetic Analysis
Sykes, B C, Mullis, R A, Hagenmuller, C, Melton T W, Sartori M. 2014. Genetic analysis of hair samples attributed to yeti, bigfoot and other anomalous primates. Proceedings of the Royal Society B 281, 20140161
The Long Walk
Books
Rawicz S. 1956. The Long Walk: The True Story of a Trek to Freedom. London: Constable. (This is the reference to the 1st edition)
Willis L. 2010. Looking for Mr Smith. New York: Skyhorse
Websites
Griffith Pugh
Tuckey H, 2013. Everest. The First Ascent. The Untold Story of Griffith Pugh, The Man Who Made It Possible. London: Random House
Pugh L G C E. 1963. Tolerance to extreme cold in a Nepalese pilgrim. Journal of Applied Physiology 18, 1234-1238