The Walrus.
There was some likelihood, a few years ago, that a most attractive animal would be added to the collection of the Zoological Society. But, unfortunately for the public gratification, as well as the remuneration of the spirited captain who brought the creature, it reached the gardens in a dying state, and only survived a few days. But it is not the first of its family which has travelled so far to the southward. Nearly 250 years ago a specimen was brought alive by some of the Arctic adventurers, and excited no little surprise, as old Purchas tells us. It was in the year 1608, when "the king and many honourable personages beheld it with admiration, for the strangeness of the same, the like whereof had never before beene seene alive in England. Not long after it fell sicke and died. As the beast in shape is very strange, so is it of strange docilitie, and apt to be taught, as by good experience we often proved."
The figure which accompanies this paper was drawn from our late lamented visitor by Mr Wolf, who sketched it before its removal to the Zoological Gardens. Captain Henry caught it during a whaling expedition, and sent it to London. Though quite young, it was nearly four feet in length; and when the person who used to feed it came into the room, it would give him an affectionate greeting, in a voice somewhat resembling the cry of a calf, but considerably louder. It walked about, but, owing to its weakness, soon grew tired, and lay down. Unlike the seals, to which it is closely allied, the walrus has considerable power with its limbs when out of the water, and can support its bulky body quite clear of the ground. Its mode of progression, however, is awkward when compared with ordinary quadrupeds; its hind-limbs shuffling along, as if inclosed in a sack. In some future season, when a lively specimen reaches the Gardens, and is accommodated with an extensive tank of water, there is no reason why the walrus should not thrive as well as the seal, or his close, though not kind, neighbour of the North, the Polar bear.
The Walrus.
The walrus, morse, or sea-horse (Trichechus rosmarus, Linn.[147]), is one of the most characteristic inhabitants of the Arctic regions. There it is widely distributed, and thence it seldom wanders. One or two specimens were killed on the shores of the northern Scottish islands in 1817 and 1825; but these instances seem hardly to admit of its introduction into our fauna, any more than West Indian beans, brought by the currents, are admissible into our flora. It is mentioned by some old Scottish writers[148] among our native animals, and at one time may have been carried to our coasts on some of the bergs, which are occasionally seen in the German Ocean after the periodical disruptions of the Arctic ice. Like the Polar bear, however, the walrus has evidently been formed by its Creator for a life among icy seas, and there it is now found often in large herds. Captain Beechey and other voyagers to the seas around Spitzbergen, describe them as being particularly abundant on the western coast of that inclement island. The captain says that in fine weather they resort to large pieces of ice at the edge of the main body, where herds of them may be seen of sometimes more than a hundred individuals each. "In these situations they appear greatly to enjoy themselves, rolling and sporting about, and frequently making the air resound with their bellowing, which bears some resemblance to that of a bull. These diversions generally end in sleep, during which these wary animals appear always to take the precaution of having a sentinel to warn them of any danger." The only warning, however, which the sentinel gives, is by seeking his own safety; in effecting which, as the herd lie huddled on one another like swine, the motion of one is speedily communicated to the whole, and they instantly tumble, one over the other, into the sea, head-foremost, if possible; but failing that, anyhow.
Scoresby remarks that the front part of the head of the young walrus, without tusks, when seen at a distance, is not unlike the human face. It has the habit of raising its head above the water to look at ships and other passing objects; and when seen in such a position, it may have given rise to some of the stories of mermaids.
There is still a considerable uncertainty as to the food of the walrus. Cook found no traces of aliment in the stomachs of those shot by his party. Crantz says that in Greenland shell-fish and sea-weeds seem to be its only subsistence. Scoresby found shrimps, a kind of craw-fish, and the remains of young seals, in the stomachs of those which he examined. Becchey mentions, that in the inside of several specimens he found numerous granite pebbles larger than walnuts. These may be taken for the same purpose that some birds, especially of the gallinaceous order, swallow bits of gravel. Dr Von Baer concludes, from an analysis of all the published accounts, that the walrus is omnivorous.[149] A specimen that died at St Petersburg was fed on oatmeal mixed with turnips or other vegetables; and the little fellow, who lately died in the Regent's Park, seems to have been fed by the sailors on oatmeal porridge.
One of the chief characteristics of the walrus is the presence of two elongated tusks (the canine teeth) in the upper jaw. According to Crantz, it uses these to scrape mussels and other shell-fish from the rocks and out of the sand, and also to grapple and get along with, for they enable it to raise itself on the ice. They are also powerful weapons of defence against the Polar bear and its other enemies.
The walrus attains a great size. Twelve feet is the length of a fine specimen in the British Museum. Beechey's party found some of them fourteen feet in length and nine feet in girth, and of such prodigious weight that they could scarcely turn them over.
Gratifying accounts are given of the attachment of the female to its young, and the male occasionally assists in their defence when exposed to danger, or at least in revenging the attack. Lord Nelson, when a lad, was coxwain to one of the ships of Phipps's expedition to the Arctic seas, and commanded a boat, which was the means of saving a party belonging to the other ship from imminent danger. "Some of the officers had fired at and wounded a walrus. As no other animal," says Southey, "has so human-like an expression in its countenance, so also is there none that seems to possess more of the passions of humanity. The wounded animal dived immediately, and brought up a number of its companions; and they all joined in an attack upon the boat. They wrested an oar from one of the men; and it was with the utmost difficulty that the crew could prevent them from staving or upsetting her, till the Carcass's boat (commanded by young Horatio Nelson) came up: and the walruses, finding their enemies thus reinforced, dispersed." And Captain Beechey gives the following pleasing picture of maternal affection which he witnessed in the seas around Spitzbergen: "We were greatly amused by the singular and affectionate conduct of a walrus towards its young. In the vast sheet of ice which surrounded the ships, there were occasionally many pools; and when the weather was clear and warm, animals of various kinds would frequently rise and sport about in them, or crawl from thence upon the ice to bask in the warmth of the sun. A walrus rose in one of these pools close to the ship, and, finding everything quiet, dived down and brought up its young, which it held to its breast by pressing it with its flipper. In this manner it moved about the pool, keeping in an erect posture, and always directing the face of the young towards the vessel. On the slightest movement on board, the mother released her flipper, and pushed the young one under water; but, when everything was again quiet, brought it up as before, and for a length of time continued to play about in the pool, to the great amusement of the seamen, who gave her credit for abilities in tuition, which, though possessed of considerable sagacity, she hardly merited."
The walrus has two great enemies in its icy home—the Polar bear and the Esquimaux. Captain Beechey thus graphically describes the manœuvres of that king of the Bruin race, which must often be attended with success. The bears, when hungry, are always on the watch for animals sleeping upon the ice, and try to come on them unawares, as their prey darts through holes in the ice. "One sunshiny day a walrus, of nine or ten feet length, rose in a pool of water not very far from us; and after looking around, drew his greasy carcase upon the ice, where he rolled about for a time, and at length laid himself down to sleep. A bear, which had probably been observing his movements, crawled carefully upon the ice on the opposite side of the pool, and began to roll about also, but apparently more with design than amusement, as he progressively lessened the distance that intervened between him and his prey. The walrus, suspicious of his advances, drew himself up preparatory to a precipitate retreat into the water in case of a nearer acquaintance with his playful but treacherous visitor; on which the bear was instantly motionless, as if in the act of sleep; but after a time began to lick his paws, and clean himself, occasionally encroaching a little more upon his intended prey. But even this artifice did not succeed; the wary walrus was far too cunning to allow himself to be entrapped, and suddenly plunged into the pool; which the bear no sooner observed than he threw off all disguise, rushed towards the spot, and followed him in an instant into the water, where, I fear, he was as much disappointed in his meal, as we were of the pleasure of witnessing a very interesting encounter."
The meat of the walrus is not despised by Europeans, and its heart is reckoned a delicacy. To the Esquimaux there is no greater treat than a kettle well filled with walrus-blubber; and to the natives along Behring's Straits this quadruped is as valuable as is the palm to the sons of the desert. Their canoes are covered with its skin; their weapons and sledge-runners, and many useful articles, are formed from its tusks; their lamps are filled with its oil; and they themselves are fed with its fat and its fibre. So thick is the skin, that a bayonet is almost the only weapon which can pierce it. Cut into shreds, it makes excellent cordage, being especially adapted for wheel-ropes. The tusks bear a high commercial value, and are extensively employed by dentists in the manufacture of artificial teeth. The fat of a good-sized specimen yields thirty gallons of oil.—A. White, from "Excelsior."
KANGAROOS.
What dissertation on the strange outward form, or stranger mode of reproduction to which this famed member of the Marsupialia belongs, could contain as much in little space as Charles Lamb's happy description in his letter to Baron Field, his "distant correspondent" in New South Wales? When that was written, and for long after, it may be necessary to tell some, Australia was chiefly known as the land of the convict.
"Tell me," writes Elia, "what your Sidneyites do? Are they th-v-ng all day long? Merciful heaven! what property can stand against such a depredation? The kangaroos—your aborigines—do they keep their primitive simplicity un-Europe-tainted, with those little short forepuds, looking like a lesson framed by nature to the pickpocket! Marry, for diving into fobs they are rather lamely provided a priori; but if the hue and cry were once up, they would show as fair a pair of hind-shifters as the expertest locomotor in the colony."[150]
In one of his letters to another of his favoured correspondents he alludes to his friend Field having gone to a country where there are so many thieves that even the kangaroos have to wear their pockets in front, lest they be picked!