In the same hall, in cases that stand along the center of the room and in the window alcoves, are some bird groups that receive a plentiful share of admiration. They deserve it, for as specimens of accurate and artistic taxidermy they have rarely been equaled and never excelled. They reproduce feathered life and its surroundings with a fidelity that bespeaks thorough knowledge, remarkable skill, and almost infinite patience. There are birds in every attitude—perching, swimming, walking, and even flying—each in a setting that very picturesquely shows its habitation and habits. The uninitiated visitor can hardly persuade himself that the foliage, the herbage, and the flowers that he sees through the glass can be the imperishable product of an artificer’s ingenuity, and not the work of nature herself. Some of the best of the groups are the robins, with their nest among the pink blossomed apple boughs; the grebes, swimming in a happy family upon a glassy imitation of water; the laughing gulls with their nest in the bent grass; the Louisiana water thrush, domiciled under an overhanging bank; the cat birds, the clapper rails, and the ruffed grouse, these last so life-like that the visitor can almost fancy he hears the brown leaves rustle beneath the feet of the chickens. Great credit is due to Jenness Richardson, the museum’s chief taxidermist, and Mrs. E. S. Mogridge, who jointly prepared this beautiful series of exhibits.
THE BELLA BELLA INDIAN WAR CANOE.
A specimen that calls for a word of notice, as one of the most valuable in the museum, stands on the right hand side of the entrance to this lower hall. It is an awkward looking bird of medium size, dark plumage, and disproportionately large bill, and its label designates it as the Great Auk. It is, in fact, one of the very few extant relics of a species that has within the memory of living man disappeared from the earth. There are but three others in this country—one in the National Museum at Washington, one in the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Science, and one in the collection belonging to Vassar College. The money value of a specimen of such rarity is hard to fix precisely, but it undoubtedly runs into the thousands of dollars.
A DETHRONED IDOL.
The second floor—the main story of the building—is principally devoted to cases of stuffed birds. These multitudinous rows of single specimens, each perched upon its neat stand of cherry wood, are, of course, less picturesque than the grouped figures, but are nevertheless of great interest and value. The martial aspect of the eagles, the curious structure of the pelicans and secretary birds, and the bright plumage of the flamingoes, the peacocks, and the argus pheasant attract attention and admiration.
Here, too, are the osseous remains of the late lamented Jumbo, to whom has fallen the rare privilege of achieving a double immortality; for while his pachydermatous hide, stuffed with straw, is still a feature of the “Greatest Show on Earth,” his skeleton stands majestically on the visitor’s right hand as he enters the second hall of the museum. Sea lions, walruses and other marine monsters are also to be found on this floor, besides a few stuffed groups. One of these last shows a family of screech owls, with their nest deep in a hollow tree. Another—one of the best in the museum—represents a scene in the tree tops of Borneo, and includes five fine specimens of the orang-utan, or Wild Man of the Woods, the great simian that disputes with the African chimpanzee and gorilla, the honor of being the brute’s nearest approach to man. Playing among the branches and eating the fruit of the durian, we see here a group that shows the orang-utan (we follow the spelling adopted by the museum) at various periods of its life and growth. There are a baby, a young female, a full grown male, and two veterans—one of either sex—with long, black hair and hideously wrinkled faces.
Ascending to the gallery above, we find a large and varied collection of implements of savage tribes and relics of prehistoric man. A huge case of skulls, whose owners lived and breathed thousands of years ago, is a ghastly reminder of the continuity of human history. Implements of stone and flint from France, from Denmark, and from the Mississippi valley are silent witnesses of the days before the discovery of the art of working iron. There are also a couple of notable groups—one of opossums and one of muskrats. The latter is a singularly faithful reproduction of nature. It shows a muskrat swimming by the bank of a pond, whose glassy surface is blurred by the ripples that mark his course. White and yellow lilies float on the water, from which rises a muskrat house, opened at the side to show one of its inmates lunching upon a reed stem. The sandy bank of the pond is pierced by galleries from which there peeps a young rat.
From the ceiling, in the center of the hall, there hangs a huge Indian war canoe, which once bore the warriors of the Bella Bella tribe, in British Columbia, over the waters of Queen Charlotte’s Sound. Though capacious enough to carry a small regiment, it was made from the wood of a single tree.