Univ. OF Toronto




''c.ft '


^^i ij^c4 Ht^f






Published from October to June, by THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY


An illustrated magazine devoted to the advancement of Natural His- tory, the recording of scientific research, exploration and discovery, and the development of museum exhibition and museum influence in education. Contributors are men eminent in these fields, including the scientific staff, explorers and members of the American Museum








The Paramo of Santa Isabel Arthur A. Allen 3

Appreciation of Theodore Nicholas Gill Frederic A. Lccas 9

The Making of a Fur-Seal Census George Archibald Clark 13

The Curiosities of Gemmology L. P. Gratacap 19

To Dramatize Conservation Winthrop Packard 21

The Crow Indian Sun Dance Robert H. Lowie 23

Educational Motion Pictures in Natural Historj' Raymond L. Ditmars 27


Animals of Central Brazil Theodore Roosevelt 35

The Roosevelt- Rondon Scientific Expedition I.. E. Miller 49

Roosevelt's Through the Brazilian Wildernesii A Review J A. Allen 64

Guarding the Health of Armies C.-E. A. Winslo w 67

Home Songs of the Tewa Indians Herbert J Spinden 73

Memories of Professor Albert S. Bickmore L. P. Gratacap 79


Portraits 90

American Indian Dances Robert H. Lowie 95

Indian Dances in the Southwest Herbert J. Spinden 103

The Conversation of John Muir Melville B. Anderson 117

With Stefansson in the Arctic Burt M. McConnell 123

The Geographical Results of the Roosevelt-Rondon Expedition W. L. G. Joerg 129

Daniel Giraud Elliot A Biographical Sketch 133


Portraits of John Burroughs, Naturalist and Author 146

Hunting the African Buffalo Carl E. Akele y 151

The "Toad Group" in the American Museum Mary Cynthia Dickerson 163

Aquarelles of our Common Woodlands Warren H. Miller 167

Bird Baths and Drinking Pools Ernest Harold Baynes 176

Motion Picture Records of Indians Pliny E. Goddard 185

August WeLsmann, Zoologist: an Appreciation Frank R. Lillie 189

Morgan's Heredity and Sex; A Review E. G. Conklin 194

Note on the Crocker Land Expedition Ship George H. Sherwood 195


Portraits 202

Oxygen and Water on Mars Percival Lowell 207

The Photograph in Astronomy E. C. Slipher 211

Louis Agassiz Fuertes Painter of Bird Portraits Frank M. Chapman 221

The Penguins of South Georgia Robert Cushman Murphy 225

European Caves and Early Man N. C. Nelson 237

Fishes of the Deep Sea L- Hussakof 249

Volcanoes of the Lesser Antilles Edmund Otis Hovey 254

Ground-Sloth from a Cave in Patagonia W. D. Matthew 256

Somaikoli Dance at Sichumovi F. S. Dellenbaugh 256


Series of Recent Museum Groups 266

TjTannosaurus, the Largest Flesh-eating Animal that Ever Lived Barnum Brown 271

Birds of the Congo James P. Chapin 281

Reproductions in Duotone of African Photographs opposite 292

The Trail of War in Macedonia David Starr Jordan 293

The Penguins of South Georgia Robert Cushman Murphy 301

Ancient Gold Art in the New World Herbert J. Spinden 307

Frederic Ward Putnam, 1839-1915 Clark Wissler 315


Elephant Hunting on Mount Kenya Carl E. Akeley 323

Reproductions in Duotone of Antarctic Photographs opposite 338

The Stefansson Expedition of 1913 to 1915 A. W. Greely 339

In the Home of the Hopi Indian Clark Wissler 343

Beginnings of Natural History Charles R. Eastman 349

Evolution of Arms and Armor Bashford Dean 357

Tsimshian Stories in Carded Wood George T. Emmons 363

Exploring a Spur of the Andes Leo E. Miller 367


An Explorer's View of the Congo Herbert Lang 379

Reproductions in Duotone of African Pliotograplis opposite 388

Ancient Cities of New Mexico N. C. Nelson 389

Explorations in the Southwest by the American Museum Clark Wissler 395

Animals of Blown Glass Herman O. Mueller 399

The American Museum's Reptile Groups in Relation to High School Biology . . George W. Hunter 405

Hunting Deer in the Adirondacks Roy Chapman Andrews 409

News from the Crocker Land Expedition 415

Beginnings of American Natural History Charles R. Eastman 417

A Valuable New Bird Book: A Review T. Gilbert Pearson 423

Fragments of Spider Lore Prank E. Lutz 424

Corythosaurus, the New Duck-billed Dinosaur W. D. Matthew and Barnum Brown 427


African, Natives, insert opp. 292, covers (Oct.), (Dec), 381-388, Insert opp. 388; Scenes, insert opp. 292

Akeley, Mrs. Carl E., 337

Andes, 368, 369, 370, 371

Armies, Diet of, 66, 67, 69, 70, 71

Arms and Armor, 356, 359, 360, 362

Bad lands, Cretaceous, 275, 276, 277, 278

Baynes, Ernest Harold, 422

Bird, baths, 176, 178, 181, 182, 183, 184; Por- traits, 220, 223, 224, insert opp. 224, cover (May); Congo birds, 282-291

Buffalo, African, 152, 159, 160, 161

Burroughs, John, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150

Brazil, Animals of, 38-47, 65, back and front covers (Feb.)

Brazil, Central, Map, 129

Caves, of Early Man, 236-247, back cover (May)

Chapin, J. P., 204

Comet, a 1910, 215

Congo, birds, 282-291; Forest, 280, 283, 284; Grass country, 285; Natives of, 381-388, Insert opp. 388, front cover (Dec.)

Conservation, Dramatizing, 21

Deming, E. W., 91

Deer, Hunting, 409-414; Whitetailed, of Adiron- dacks, back cover (Dec.) Doubt, River of, 35, 36, 37, 63 Duck, Labrador, 136

Elephant Hunting on Moimt Kenya, 322, 323, 325, 326, 327, 330, 333, 334, 335, 336, 338 Elliot, D. G., opp. 133, 134, 135

Fishes, Deep Sea, 248, 252, 253 Fuertes, Louis Agassiz, 205

Fur-seals, 12, 13, 15, 16, back and front covers (Jan.)

Gemmology, Curiosities of, 18, opp. 20

Gill, Theodore Nicholas, 9

Glass, Blown, Animals of, 399-403

Goldwork, Ancient, 306, 308, 309, 310, 311 312

429 Great Auk, back cover (Mar.) Groups, Museum, 266-270, 342-347, 405 408

430 ' '

Homaday. W. T., 202

Hygiene, Military, 66-71

Indian, dance costumes, 94; Crow, Sun-Dance, 23, 24; Dances, 95, 101, insert opp. 102; 103-115; cover (Mar.)

Indians, Apache, 185, 186, 187; Hopi, 341, 345, 346; Nhambiquara, 62; Parcels, 56, 57, 59, 61; Pueblo, opp. 78; Taos, 78, insert opp. 78; Tewa, 73, 76, 77

Katydid, 26

Lang, Herbert, 203, 378

Macedonia, 293, 295, 296, 297

Mawson, Antarctic expedition, insert opp. 338,

cover (Dec.) Mawson, Sir Douglas, 93 Muir, John, 116, 121

Natural History, Early Illustrations, 348-356;

417-420 New Mexico, Ancient Cities of, 389-398

Paraguay River, Along the, 48, 51, 52, 58 Planets, 211, 212, 213, 214, 216, 217, 218 Peary, R. E., 92 Penguins, 206, 225, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 233,

235; 301-.305; Penguin group, 430 Portuguese Man-of-war, 199 Putnam, F. W., 314

Red Deer River, Alberta, 279 Rhinoceros, African, 157, 318. Rondon, Colonel, 34, 43

Roosevelt, Theodore, 34, 35, 36, 38, 41, 43, 46, 46, 49, cover (Jan.)

Santa Isabel, Paramo of, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7 Stuart, R. L., 137

Taos, Mountains, 72, insert opp. 78

Taylor, W. S., 90

Telescope, Lowell Observatory, 208, 210

Toad group, back and front cover (April), 162,

164, 166, 166, insert opp. 166; 168-174^ 405 Tsimshian, carved wood, 364 Tyrannosaurus 270, 273, 274, 276, back cover


Wandorobo, Family of, 156; Guide, 158 Weismann, August, 188

The American Museum Journal

Volume XV JANUARY, 1915 Number 1


Cover, Fur Seals at Pribilof Islands

Photograph taken by Roy C. Andrews, St. Paul Island, 1913

Frontispiece, Paramo Valley, Santa Isabel

Photograph in the Central Andes by Arthur A. Allen

The Paramo of Santa Isabel Arthur A. Allen 3

ViATid word picture of the verdure and silence of the South American forest and the austere splendor of this paramo of the central Andes, 13,000 feet above sea

Appreciation of Theodore Nicholas Gill Frederic A. Lucas 9

Theodore Nicholas Gill, for many years in the Smithsonian Institution and Library of Congress and to be coimted among noted American zoologists, died in Washington September 25, 1914

The Making of a Fur-Seal Census George Archibald Clark 13

Accurate enumeration the really important practical problem in connection with the fur-seal herd of the Pribilof Islands

The Curiosities of Gemmology L. P. Gratacap 19

Review of a recent book by George Frederic Kunz, honorary curator of gems in the American Museum, on superstitions and meanings attached to precious stones. With color plate of three valuable gems in the Morgan Collection of the American Museum

To Dramatize Conservation Winthrop Packard 21

A suggestion as to the value of the drama in educational work

The Crow Indian Sun Dance Robert H. Lowie 23

Educational Motion Pictures in Natural History Raymond L. Ditmars 27

Museum Notes 29

Mabt Cynthia Dickbbson, Editor

Published monthly from October to May by the American Museum of Natiu-al History. Terms: one dollar and a half per year, twenty cents per copy. Entered as second-class matter January 12, 1907, at the Post-Office at Boston, Mass., Act of Congress. July 16, 1894.

Subscriptions should be addressed to the American Museum Journal, 77th St. and Central Park West, New York City.

The Journal is sent free to all members of the Museum.


-l _fc <: >


5- <

The American Museum Journal

Volume XV


Number 1


Photographs by the Author and by L. E. Miller

LOOKING through the perspective of a few years upon my experi- ence in the Andes of Colombia, the days spent on the paramos recur most vividly to my mind. The debili- tating weeks in the steaming coastal forests with their parasites and fevers, the long hours in the dugout canoes beneath the blazing vertical sun, the dust of the valley trails, and the lomas with their clouds of locusts pass from me. I forget the interminable silence of the Cloud Forest, its soaking moss and epi- phytes, but as often as memory recurs, comes to me the austere splendor of those stretches of rock and sky, of ridge piled upon ridge, backed by a line of snow and gray cloud and bathed in an atmosphere cool and clean. It was a land of peculiar fascination to me. I recall how we toiled across the paramo of the Valle de Pappas and though at this time so lashed by wind and rain that the trail was visible hardly fifty paces ahead, it still had lost none of its charm. Peaceful as it is during its few months of summer, the Andean paramo is a land of sleet and storm during the rest of the year; indeed

Note. Dr. Arthur A. Allen, a member of the biological staff of Cornell University, was con- nected with the Museum's expedition in Colombia, from August, 1911 to May, 1912. During this period, in cooperation with Mr. Leo E. Miller, he made important collections in the vicinity of the Quindio Trail, and in the little-known region between Popayan and the Valle de Pappas, and San Agustin; also in the Cauca and Atrato val- leys. In the latter region he contracted a severe type of malarial fever which necessitated his re- turn to the United States.

many of the trails even at the equator are closed, and man and beast that attempt to cross are frozen to death.

The paramo of Santa Isabel lies about two days' journey from Salento, the largest town on the Quindio trail which crosses the central Andes, and on clear days, especially toward dusk, can be seen at several points rising above the forest-capped ridges to an altitude between sixteen and seventeen thousand feet. Beyond it and a little to the east lies the paramo of Ruis, and most magni- ficent of all, Nevada del Tolima, with its crown of crystal snow gleaming in the rays of the setting sun. Many travelers pass over the trail without ever a glimpse of the snows to the north, seeing only the banks of clouds that obscure even the tdps of the moss-forest and hide all but the near distance. The sight of the snows is so unusual even to the natives that with the first lifting of the clouds groups of travelers assemble at the open spots along the trail and discuss the coming of winter.

So it was in the little town of Salento where we happened to be stopping. They manifested great concern over our proposed trip and told us that we must hasten if we would camp on the paramo before the storms set in, when life there would be impossible. So one morning in early September we slung our packs and started for the paramo of Santa Isabel. From Salento the trail to the paramo leads first down into the Boquia


Santa Isabel from the Quindio Trail Cloud Forest in the foreground has more tropical luxuri- ance than the lowland jungles, the trees being burdened with giant vines and they in turn laden with moss and fern and orchid. Cloud Forest extends up the mountain side from 9000 feet to timber line at about 12,500 feet

Valley and then follows the river's meandering course through groves of splendid palms nearly to its source, when it turns abruptly and begins a steep ascent of the mountain side. The palm trees, in scattered groves, continue to nearly nine thousand feet, where the trail begins to zigzag through some half- cleared country, where the trees have been felled and burned over, and where in be- tween the charred stumps, a few handfuls of wheat have been planted and now wave a golden brown against the black.

And next the Cloud Forest! It is seldom that the traveler's anticipation of any much heralded natural wonder is realized when he is brought face to face with it. Usually he feels a tinge of dis- appointment'and follows it by a close scrutiny of the object before him in search of the grandeur depicted, but not so with the Cloud Forest. It surpasses one's dreams of tropical luxuriance. It is here rather than in the lowland jungles that nature outdoes herself and crowds every available inch with moss and fern and orchid. Here every twig is a garden

and the moss-laden branches so gigantic that they throw more shade than the leaves of the trees themselves. Giant vines hang to the ground from the hori- zontal branches of the larger trees and in turn are so heavily laden with moss and epiphytes that they form an almost solid wall and present the appearance of a hollow tree trunk fifteen or twenty feet in diameter. One should pass through this forest during the rainy season to form a true conception of its richness, although even during the dryest months the variety and abundance of plant life covering every trunk and branch seem beyond belief.

Quite as impressive as is its luxuriance, is its great silence. One walks for hours along its rank trails, sometimes sinking knee-deep in the wet forest mold, and hears no sound. A slight tsip or a buzz of wings in the tree top may tell of the presence of a honey creeper or humming bird, or the weird call of a tinamou or an ant thrush from the dark recesses may startle one, only to leave him the more impressed by the great breathless silence.


The trail through this forest was new and while perhaps not quite as steep as the old Indian trail, "Was very difficult in places. Many times we dismounted and led our horses, where the soft mold of the trail seemed insecure and where even a slight floundering of the animals might have pitched us down the moun- tain side. Even with such care one of the mules floundered and before we

change occurs. The trees become dwarfed, their leaves small and thick, heavily chitinized or covered with thick do\sTi, and remind one of the vegetation about our northern bogs with their Andromeda and Labrador tea. Here too the ground in places is covered with a dense mat of sphagnum, dotted with dwarfed blueberries and cranberries and similar plants which remind one of home.

Looking back at timber line We had left the tropics of Cloud Forest and come into a tem- perate region, almost on the equator but more than 12.500 feet above the sea. The photograph shows clouds rolling in at the left

could get to his assistance was rolling over and over down the mountain. Fortunately it was still in the forest and one of his packs became wedged in the roots of a tree, holding him until we could get to his release.

This great forest occasionally inter- rupted by clearings, continues for many hours' travel up the mountain from 9000 to about 12,500 feet, where a sudden

A cool breeze greets the traveler, sky appears in place of the great dome of green, and suddenly he steps out upon the open paramo. He has been travel- ing through the densest of forests, seeing but a few hundred paces along the trail and only a few rods into the vegetation on either side; he has grown near-sighted, and even the smallest contours of the landscape have been concealed by the



dense forest cover. Suddenly there is thrown before his vision a whole world of mountains. As far as he can see in all directions save behind him, ridge piles upon ridge in never-ending series until they fuse in one mighty crest which pierces the clouds with its snow-capped

crown. This is the paramo of Santa Isabel.

At this point we dismounted and led our horses along the narrow ridge, for they were not used to the mountains. We looked in vain for the jagged peaks that are so characteristic of our northern

^^ei:':nrZL:lJ::V^^^^^ underlined with numerous small rivulets and

reaching a height of ten feerS'sreltTed places " "" *^^ '^^' "^ *^« -«-' --««--


frost-made mountains. Here even the vertical cliffs did not seem entirely with- out vegetation and as far as we could see with binoculars the browTi sedges and the gray frailejons covered the rocks even up to the very edge of the snow. Beneath our feet the soil was springy and as we afterwards found, undermined with in- numerable small rivulets making their way to the stream below, which we could hear even at this distance as it dashed over the boulders and occasionally gleamed in the sun- light. All about us the strange mullein- like frailejons, as the

natives call them,

(Espeletia grandi- flora Humb. and

Bonpl.), stood up

on their pedestals,

ten or even fifteen

feet in height

in sheltered spots ;

down among the

sedges were many

lesser plants similar

to our North Ameri- can species : gen- tians, composites, a

hoary lupine, a but- tercup, a yellow sor- rel, almost identical

with those of the

United States. Birds also, several

of which proved to

be new to science,

were numerous, but

all were of dull colors

and reminded one in

their habits of the

open country birds

of northern United

States. A goldfinch

hovered about the

frailejons, a gray flycatcher r^n along the ground or mounted into the air much like our northern horned larks, an oven- bird flew up ahead of us resembling a meadowlark, a marsh wren scolded from the rank sedges, and almost from under our horses' hoofs, one of the large Andean snipes sprang into the air with a charac- teristic bleat and went zigzaging away. On a small lake which we now had come to, barren except for a few algfp, rode

In the shadow of a frailejon -The nest is made entirely from the down of the frailejon leaves and belongs to a slat^colored finch (Phrygtlus unicolor). On the paramo the leaves of all plants are either small and horny or hea\-ily covered with down


an Andean teal, surprisingly like our northern gadwall. And so the story goes on. Here almost on the equator but 13,000 feet above the level of the sea, we had left the strangeness of the tropics and come upon a land that was strikingly like our own.

We decided to pitch camp at timber line where there would be wood for cook- ing and so made our way back down the valley to the edge of the trees where we had some difficulty in finding a dry level spot for the tent.

Here we studied and collected for about a week, working up the ridges to 15,000 feet but finding greater abundance of bird life along the dashing stream that flowed down the valley in which we were camped. There was not however, a great variety of birds and but few species were really common. Mammals too, were scarce, a few tracks of deer and tapir along the edge of the forest and numerous runways of the rabbits in the rank sedges, being almost the only visible signs. Even the smaller rats and mice were scarce, and few came to our traps.

Each night the temperature dropped to freezing, each noon the temperature rose to about 75 degrees Fahrenheit, and each afternoon great white clouds rolled up from the forests below and obscured the landscape. One dared not venture far from camp after three o'clock, for the great mass of anastomosing ridges would easily confuse even the traveler with a compass. In fact one day when return- ing from an exploring trip to the snow line, the clouds rolled up while we were still four or five miles from camp. Ridge after ridge disappeared from sight until

soon we could see only the rocks close about us. There was no trail to follow and we were soon unable to recognize any of the features of the landscape that were still visible. For two hours we stumbled along trying to keep track of the number of ridges as we passed them and trying to recall the number passed during the morning, until finally we gave up hope of return that night. Looking about for a spot somewhat sheltered from the raw winds which had already begun to sweep down from the snows above us, a ray of light very far to the left attracted our at- tention and we looked just in time to see the rift in the clouds close again. We knew it must have been reflected from the small lake at the head of the valley in which we were camped and realized that we had been traveling at least an hour in exactly the wrong direction. It was not reluctantly therefore, that we abandoned the thought of beds of frailejons and made straight for our little lake. In terrible thirst and fatigue and after many collapses from the great altitude, we were able at last to perceive its dim silver outline, and we knew we were little more than a mile from camp. This was our first warning to leave the paramo. In a few weeks these ridges would be covered with snow and swept by gales. The clouds and fog would not part for days and life would be unendur- able— although even then one would feel the more deeply the grandeur of the elements, and with the mountain tops shut from view, would still know their awe-inspiring presence. With this warning then, we prepared to leave the paramo.


By Frederic A. Lucas

THERE^'Hie3^ in Washington on September 25, 1914, the man who may well be termed the Nestor of American zoologists, not per- haps so much from the fact that he chanced to be a year or so older than his compeers, as from his extraordinary grasp of vari- ous branches of zoologi- cal science. Theodore Nicholas Gill w^as bom in New^ York, March 21, 1837. He passed part of his early life in Brook- lyn, and we infer from his " R e m i n i s- cences of the Apprentice's Library " that this an- cestor of the Brooklyn In- stitute of Arts and Sciences had much to do with turn- ing his atten- tion from law toward natu- ral history. He first became familiar with the Institute that was to be, in 1854, when he was seventeen, and as long as he remained in Brooklyn, made use of its library and collections and was a regular attendant at the meetings of the Lyceum of Natural History, being for a part of the time its secretary.

The fact that shells were the objects most readily obtained and preserved by amateurs, and the accessibility of the fine ichthyological library of Mr. J. Carson Breevoort, seem to have been the factors that directed his attention to conchology and ichthyology, although,

as noted far- ther on, other factors came into play later. The influence of Baird and of the Smithso- nian Institu- tion led him to Washing- toa in 1863, where for a time he was librarian of the Smithso- nian Institu- tion and later, assist- ant librarian of the Library of Congress.

For one who achieved such impor- tant results he did com- p a r a ti V el y little original work, from a natural indolence of body which led him to take life easily, to shun the dissecting table, to relegate the labor of preparation to others and to utilize their work, even if he might not accept their conclusions, for he possessed to an unusual extent the ability to make use of the work of others, not by claiming it



as his own, but by embodying it as one of many items in some important gen- eralization. If one may so put it, he took the bricks of information turaed out by many workers and combined them into an edifice of knowledge. As might perhaps be expected from one of his temperament, he was a "closet" rather than a "field" naturaUst, al- though in his earlier days he visited the West Indies in the interests of Mr. D. Jackson Steward, whose shells ^ form part of the collections of the American Museum of Natural History.

For many years his favorite morning haunt was the library of the United States National Museum, and later, the periodical room in the Smithsonian, where he read the standard scientific journals as soon as they were received, and noted the most recent discoveries in those lines in which he was especially interested. This extensive reading, coupled with a wonderfully retentive memory, made him an extraordinary source of information. He was a verita- ble storehouse of zoological facts, which were freely placed at the disposal of anyone who really wished them. As a matter of detail, he probably had at his tongue's end more scientific names of animals than any other living man more probably than anyone will ever know again. This wide knowledge ren- dered easy such work as the technical parts of the zoological portion of the Century and Standard dictionaries. In the first-named work he was associated with Dr. Coues, and more than once sorely tried the patience of his colleague by his procrastinating habits,^ for while Coues was a fluent talker and ready writer, he was also a hard and syste-

1 Gill's second published paper was on Cyprcea notata, now considered a synonym of C. macula, from a specimen in the collection of D. W. Fergu- son, which is now in the collection of Columbia University.

matic worker, as his many books and various papers bear witness. It is rather interesting to note that these two men, Coues and Gill, should have been so closely associated, for Coues probably did more than any other one man to popularize the study of birds and mam- mals, and Gill, though largely indirectly, did much to systematize and stabilize the technical side. As an example of Gill's ultra-technical style may be cited his definition of Giraffidse:

A family of ruminant artiodactyl mam- mals, having the placenta polycotyledonary, the stomach quadripartite with developed psalterium, the cervical vertebrae much elongated, the dorso-lumbars declivous back- wards and horns present only as frontal apophyses covered with integument.

Coues read this and turning to Gill said, "That is n't English, its Choctaw." "No," said Gill, "it is an exact defini- tion of the family."

For many years, more than twenty to the writer's knowledge. Gill occupied a room on the west side of the big north tower of the Smithsonian, and for a long time Coues had an office on the opposite side, the two opening into a still larger intercommunicating room. Dr. Gill's room like the girl's workbasket, had a " place for everything and everything in it," desk, chairs, shelves, floor especially floor were covered, aside from dust, with a miscellaneous collec- tion of books, pamphlets, old letters, skulls, skeletons and odds and ends of wearing apparel. During the summer this deposit, like a lava stream, flowed

2 The recent article in Science is in error in calling Dr. Gill the author of the zoological text of the Century Dictionary: Dr. Coues was the editor and wrote the major part of the definitions and chose the larger number of the illustrations; Dr. Gill was the scientific adviser, so to speak, and Coues relied largely upon him for accurate and technical information. Gill wrote a large share of the technical definitions, particularly those of the families and genera of mammals and fishes. The Author.



slowly eastward until by fall all three rooms were filled and Dr. Gill was work- ing at Coues's desk. Here and in the Museum library Dr. Gill's papers were mainly prepared, for even in his later days he rarely made use of a stenog- rapher. Gill's astonishing knowledge of names and his exactness in matters of nomenclature made him extremely help- ful in the bestowal of names upon new species, and it was customary for one about to christen some newly discovered beast, bird or fish to ask him if the proposed name had been previously used, a procedure that saved much time and many synonyms. He excelled in tracing the history of some much de- scribed species through the mazes of literature in which it had wandered, and delighted to show that what Aristotle is supposed to have called some animal was really quite a different creature.

He was the first president of the Biological Society of Washington and hence a life member of the council: he was also an almost constant attendant at its meetings. As the present special- ization of societies had not even begun, the members of this society represented many branches of science and the papers presented covered a remarkably wide range of subjects, varying from technical to popular, and from Protozoa to Pri- mates.

It mattered not what paper was presented, it came to be expected that if Dr. Gill did not lead the discussion, he would participate in it, and when at the close of some paper the hearers turned expectantly toward Dr. Gill, they were rarely disappointed. He was a severe, one might almost say merciless critic, not from any particular personal animus, but because he expected an exact state- ment of fact.

While the majority of Gill's papers were systematic, yet on occasion he

could write most entertainingly, and not only did he have a vast fund of informa- tion on which to draw, but the reader had the satisfaction of feeling that he could rely upon what he was being told. His contributions to zoogeography were numerous also and the subject was dealt with in at least two of his presidential addresses.

Among the more important deductions that he made were the recognition of the claim of the Elasmobranchs to a position of the "highest" rank and of the purely artificial nature of the groups Carinatje and Ratitae in birds. He accurately defined and established on a sound structural basis seven orders of fishes, to say nothing of genera, and was prac- tically the first to suggest that the curious little fishes termed Leptocephalus were larval forms of eels.

As an example of the estimation in which the work of Dr. Gill was held by fellow scientists, one cannot do better than to quote an extract from David Starr Jordan's Guide to the Study of Fishes read by Dr. Smith at the Testi- monial Dinner to Dr. Gill:

Theodore Nicholas Gill is the keenest interpreter of taxonomic facts yet known in the history of ichthyology. He is the author of a vast number of papers, the first bearing date of 1858, touching almost every group and almost every phase of relation among fishes. His numerous suggestions as to classification have been usually accepted in time by other authors, and no one has had a clearer perception than he of the necessity of orderly methods in nomenclature.

And Dr. Jordan further wrote:

In my scientific work I have owed more to the critical abiUty of Dr. Gill and his clear insight in matters of classification and ge- neric relations than to any other man whatso- ever. In all the long history of science there has been no one who has had this unique quahty of being able to see through unim- portant things to the real heart in biological classification as has Dr. Gill.

>> 00

t^ C3

0) -s






•g ft

01 ft






^ "O



O c8

O 83


By George Archibald Clark

[Of Leland Stanford University]

THE really important practical problem in connection with the fur-seal herd of the Pribilof Islands has always been that of enumera- tion. How many animals are there? Is the herd increasing or diminishing? What is the rate either way? What number of young males can safely be taken each year? What breeding re- serve should be set aside? These ques- tions can be answered ef- fectively only by a more or less exact cen- sus of the herd.

In making a fur-seal census you cannot, as in the case of human com- munities, go to the head of the household. The harem master is not an approacha- ble being and will not discuss family affairs with you. You go within his circle, if at all, at your peril. You can stand on the neighbor- ing cliffs and looking down upon his household observe many things of in- terest; but this will not tell you whether all his wives are at home or how many children he has. The children hide in

Bull fiiT seal, Gorbatch Rookery, St. Paul Island

the crevices of the rocks and most of the mothers are away at sea feeding.

It is easy to count the harem masters. Each one is big and aggressive and is always at home. As you come into his range of vision he rises up to greet you like a bristling question mark. The fur-seal families can therefore be easily

counted. It is even possible to count the individual fe- males on many scattered breeding areas, and this fact has been uti- lized at times ^ to gain an

v^ ^* approximate enumeration, an average harem being thus obtained which could be applied to

breeding areas where counts of individuals were impossi- ble.

The fur-seal census how- ever, does not rest finally with the adult animals; it rests in the young of the season, or the fur-seal pups. Although destined to spend most of its life in the water and to brave all kinds of weather, the fur-seal pup in the beginning is timid of the water and keeps away from it dur- ing the first month or six weeks of its life.




There is a time therefore in each breed- ing seasoa whea all of the pups are absolutely within reach; and as there is a mother for each pup, a count of the pups is in effect an enumeration of the mothers the breeding females the all-important element in the herd.

By the first of August each season, practically all of the fur-seal pups are bom. About this time also the majority of the harem masters, who have fasted since their arrival in May, have with- drawn from the rookeries to feed at sea. The mother seal, while she will defend her pup of a few hours old with her life, pays no attention to it when it is a week or more old, betaking herself promptly to the sea when disturbed and leaving the pup to shift for itself. A very little urging therefore suffices to clear the rookeries of the older animals, leaving the young to be dealt with by themselves. The period is a limited one because when the fur-seal pups begin to take to the water the transition from a land animal to a water animal is very sudden and after the pups gain command of themselves in the water they take to it instantly when disturbed. There is however, a period of about ten days in early August when the pups can be con- trolled and counted.

The fur-seal rookeries occupy about eight miles of shore front, generally in a narrow band twenty to fifty feet in width. At certain points there are massed areas. Each form of breeding ground has its own problems in the counting. The narrow beaches have holes and crevices among the rocks where the little animals hide. On the massed areas they can be more readily controlled, but there is danger of crowding and smothering. The difficulties in neither case are seri- ous and call merely for care and experi- ence in dealing with them.

On the narrow beach portions, the

process of counting is carried out by two persons, one passing along the sea- ward side of the rookery, the other on the landward side. Coming together they cut off a small group of twenty-five to one hundred pups and force them to run back along the beach twenty to fifty yards. These pups represent vary- ing ages and degrees of strength since they are bom at different dates between the twelfth of June and the first of August and they therefore naturally line out in order of capacity to travel and this line can be readily counted. The process is like that of the counting of sheep as they pass through a narrow gate. Group by group the pups of a given rookery are counted. Between the pas- sage of the separate pods, or groups, the openings in the rocks are searched for hidden animals. Careful search is also made for the dead, a necessary part of the enumeration. The services of na- tive helpers who, preliminary to the work of counting have driven off the adult animals, are utilized at all times to keep the pods of counted animals from mingling with those not counted.

Where massed groups occur they are rounded up and held loosely on some flat surface, a native guard being posted about, except at one point from which the animals are allowed to run off. These departing pups again travel readily in lines which can be counted by two's and three's and four's. If tendency to stampede develops, a guard is thrown across the front and a new opening at some other point is estab- lished. By the above process, repeated and varied as conditions demanded, in a period of four hours, approximately eleven thousand fur-seal pups were handled and counted from the massed breeding ground under Hutchinson Hill on St. Paul Island in July, 1913. One of the accompanying photographs illus-