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Celebrity pet: the rediscovery of Charles Darwin’s long-lost Galapagos tortoise Celebrity pet: the rediscovery of Charles Darwin’s long-lost Galapagos tortoise
(7 months later)
Name: 1874.6.1.6Species: Name: 1874.6.1.6Species: Chelonoidis darwiniDates: 1834-1837Claim to fame: Darwin’s pet tortoise Where now: Natural History Museum, London
Chelonoidis darwiniDates: 1834-1837Claim to When in the Galapagos, Charles Darwin and his Beagle chums ate a couple of dozen giant tortoises, tossing their empty shells over board en route to Tahiti. But in his Narrative of the voyage, captain Robert FitzRoy made it clear that a few small tortoises had survived. “Several were brought alive to England,” he wrote.
fame: Darwin’s pet tortoise For FitzRoy had scooped up two tiny tortoises from Espanola (an island in the south of the archipelago) and took enough interest in them to monitor their growth during the home stretch of the voyage: “a small one grew three-eighths of an inch, in length, in three months; and another grew two inches in length in one year.”
Where now: Natural History Museum, London There were at least two other small Galapagos tortoises on board, as noted by Darwin himself. One – “Covington’s little Tortoise” – had been brought from Floreana by his assistant Syms Covington. The other – “Mine from James” – seems to have been Darwin’s, collected during his stay on Santiago (or James Island, as it was then known). It’s rather nice to imagine it plodding round his cramped cabin as he set about cataloguing his Galapagos specimens.
When in But where did Darwin’s pet tortoise end up? It’s a fabulous question that has given rise to a fabulous myth, one that is documented in detail in A Sheltered Life by Paul Chambers. In short, Darwin’s tortoise is supposed to have become Harriet, a giant tortoise that lived at the Australia Zoo in Queensland until her death in 2006 (allegedly transported down under by John Clements Wickham, the Beagle’s first lieutenant under FitzRoy).
the Galapagos, Charles Darwin and his Beagle chums ate a couple of dozen giant On its website, the Australia Zoo still claims “Harriet was collected from the Galapagos Islands in 1835 by Sir Charles Darwin when she was just the size of a dinner plate.” This, as Chambers clearly demonstrated in his book and in a follow-up feature in New Scientist, is simply wishful thinking. He gave many compelling reasons, including the fact that Harriet appears to have come from Santa Cruz (a Galapagos island not visited by the Beagle). Unfortunately though, Chambers was not able to track down Darwin’s tortoise to another location, which would have definitively debunked the Harriet fable. A few years after Chambers’ investigation, however, Darwin’s tortoise – missing for over 170 years – finally turned up at the Natural History Museum in London.
tortoises, tossing their empty shells over board en route to Tahiti. But in his I emailed Colin McCarthy, former collections manager for reptiles, amphibians and fish at the museum, to ask him to elaborate. “I can pinpoint my discovery to late March 2009,” he says. Over the course of the preceding year, McCarthy had been busy preparing a list of reptiles and amphibians collected by Darwin during the course of the Beagle voyage. When it came to the tortoises he’d brought back, there were some loose ends, “specimens that had been listed in early registers but not in later catalogues.”
Narrative of the voyage, captain Robert Down in the basement of the museum in the now-famous Zoology Dry Storeroom No. 1, McCarthy was going through some unlabeled specimens when he came across a small tortoise with its plastron (undercarriage) loosely wired to its carapace (shell). “Hinging the plastron back I noticed ‘James’” etched into the surface, he says. “I could hardly believe my eyes and immediately put the specimen back on the shelf in case I dropped it in my excitement!”
FitzRoy made it clear that a few small tortoises had survived. “Several were brought alive to England,” he wrote. Also scratched on the inside of the plastron, hidden from McCarthy’s predecessors, there was the registration number: 37.8.13.1. Armed with this information, he combed back through the zoology register and there, logged on 13 August 1837, were two tortoises “presented by Charles Darwin Esq”, one corresponding to Darwin’s pet from Santiago (James) and the other to Covington’s pet from Floreana (Charles).
For FitzRoy From this entry, it emerges that Darwin visited South Kensington in August 1837 and presented these two tortoises to John Edward Gray, then assistant keeper of zoology at the museum. By then, Darwin had figured out that each of the Galapagos Islands probably had a suite of allied yet subtly different species. FitzRoy had already deposited his two Espanola tortoises with Gray earlier in the year and Darwin was hoping that there might be some clear differences in tortoise morphology from one island to the next.
had scooped up two tiny tortoises from Espanola (an island in the south of the Unfortunately, juvenile tortoises – even ones from different islands – look pretty similar. “The specimens,” Darwin conceded, “were young ones; and probably owing to this cause, neither Mr Gray nor myself could find in them any specific differences,” he wrote in the beefed-up second edition of his Journal of Researches published in 1845.
archipelago) and took enough interest in them to monitor their growth during If Darwin’s tortoise has been in the Natural History Museum all along, how come nobody noticed? Well they did and they didn’t. Writing in Chelonian Conservation and Biology in 2010, McCarthy (and a colleague Aaron Bauer) were able to identify both Darwin and Covington’s tortoises in a succession of museum catalogues produced by a succession of curators, ultimately being given a new accession number in 1874 (1874.6.1.6). Crucially, however, Darwin’s name never appears alongside these entries. In 1844, for instance, Gray knocked up a Catalogue of Tortoises, Crocodiles and Amphibians in the collection. Darwin’s and Covington’s tortoises are there but this is all it says:
the home stretch of the voyage: “a small one grew f. Young, 7 inches. Nuchal plate none.g. Young, 6 inches. Nuchal plate none, feet bad.
three-eighths of an inch, in length, in three months; and another grew two Based on a recent publication of the growth rate of young tortoises in captivity, a 7-inch carapace suggests that Darwin’s tortoise would have been just over three years old at the time of death. Assuming it passed away in 1837, prompting Darwin to take it along to the museum, it seems reasonable to assume it hatched out in Galapagos in 1834 (or thereabouts).
inches in length in one year.” It might seem odd that Gray didn’t stick Darwin’s name into the catalogue. Then again why would he? Remember, this was a full 15 years before Darwin published On the Origin of Species. There was no way that Gray could have anticipated the celebrity that Darwin would become, less still how much interest this small and unassuming reptile would generate 170 years later.
There were at least two other small I’m thrilled it survives. It can be seen on a tour of the Spirit Collection.
Galapagos tortoises on board, as noted by Darwin himself. One – “Covington’s
little Tortoise” – had been brought from Floreana by his assistant Syms
Covington. The other – “Mine from James” – seems to have been Darwin’s,
collected during his stay on Santiago (or James Island, as it was
then known). It’s rather nice to imagine it plodding round
his cramped cabin as he set about cataloguing his Galapagos specimens.
But where did Darwin’s pet tortoise end
up? It’s a fabulous question that has given rise to a fabulous myth, one that
is documented in detail in A Sheltered Life by Paul Chambers. In short,
Darwin’s tortoise is supposed to have become Harriet, a giant tortoise that lived at the Australia Zoo in Queensland until her death in 2006 (allegedly transported down
under by John Clements Wickham, the Beagle’s first lieutenant
under FitzRoy).
On its website,
the Australia Zoo still claims “Harriet was
collected from the Galapagos Islands in 1835 by Sir Charles Darwin when she was
just the size of a dinner plate.” This, as Chambers clearly demonstrated in his
book and in a follow-up feature in New Scientist, is simply wishful thinking. He
gave many compelling reasons, including the fact that Harriet appears to have
come from Santa Cruz (a Galapagos island not visited by the Beagle). Unfortunately though, Chambers
was not able to track down Darwin’s tortoise to another location, which would
have definitively debunked the Harriet fable. A few years after Chambers’
investigation, however, Darwin’s tortoise – missing for over 170 years –
finally turned up at the Natural History Museum in London.
I
emailed Colin McCarthy, former collections manager for reptiles, amphibians and
fish at the museum, to ask him to elaborate. “I can
pinpoint my discovery to late March 2009,” he says. Over the course of the
preceding year, McCarthy had been busy preparing a list of reptiles and
amphibians collected by Darwin during the course of the Beagle voyage. When it came to the
tortoises he’d brought back, there were some loose ends, “specimens that had
been listed in early registers but not in later catalogues.”
Down in the basement of the museum in the now-famous Zoology Dry
Storeroom No. 1, McCarthy was going through some unlabeled specimens when he came
across a small tortoise with its plastron (undercarriage) loosely wired to its
carapace (shell). “Hinging the plastron back I noticed ‘James’” etched into the
surface, he says. “I could hardly believe my eyes and immediately put the
specimen back on the shelf in case I dropped it in my excitement!”
Also
scratched on the inside of the plastron, hidden from McCarthy’s
predecessors, there was the registration number: 37.8.13.1. Armed with
this
information, he combed back through the zoology register and there,
logged on
13 August 1837, were two tortoises “presented by Charles Darwin Esq”,
one
corresponding to Darwin’s pet from Santiago (James) and the other to
Covington’s
pet from Floreana (Charles).
From
this entry, it emerges that Darwin visited South Kensington in August 1837 and
presented these two tortoises to John Edward Gray, then assistant keeper of zoology at the museum. By then, Darwin had figured
out that each of the Galapagos Islands probably had a suite of allied yet subtly
different species. FitzRoy had already deposited his two Espanola tortoises
with Gray earlier in the year and Darwin was hoping that there
might be some clear differences in tortoise morphology from one island to the
next.
Unfortunately, juvenile tortoises – even ones from different islands
– look pretty similar. “The specimens,”
Darwin conceded, “were young ones; and probably owing to this cause, neither
Mr Gray nor myself could find in them any specific differences,” he wrote in
the beefed-up second edition of his Journal
of Researches published in 1845.
If Darwin’s tortoise has been in the
Natural History Museum all along, how come nobody noticed? Well
they did and they didn’t. Writing in Chelonian Conservation and Biology in 2010, McCarthy (and a
colleague Aaron Bauer) were able to identify both
Darwin and Covington’s tortoises in a succession of museum catalogues produced by
a succession of curators, ultimately being given a new accession number in 1874
(1874.6.1.6). Crucially, however, Darwin’s name never appears alongside
these entries. In 1844, for instance, Gray knocked up a Catalogue of Tortoises, Crocodiles and
Amphibians
in the collection. Darwin’s and Covington’s tortoises are there but this is all
it says:
f. Young, 7 inches. Nuchal plate none.g. Young, 6 inches. Nuchal plate none, feet
bad.
Based
on a recent publication of the growth
rate of young tortoises in captivity, a
7-inch carapace suggests that Darwin’s tortoise would have been just over three
years old at the time of death. Assuming it passed away in 1837, prompting
Darwin to take it along to the museum, it seems reasonable to assume it hatched
out in Galapagos in 1834 (or thereabouts).
It might seem odd that Gray didn’t stick
Darwin’s name into the catalogue. Then again why would he? Remember, this was a
full 15 years before Darwin published On the Origin of Species. There was
no way that Gray could have anticipated the celebrity that Darwin would become,
less still how much interest this small and
unassuming reptile would generate 170 years later.
I’m thrilled it survives. It can be seen
on a
tour of the Spirit Collection.
Happy birthday Chuck!Happy birthday Chuck!
Tale Tale ends
ends There are several loose ends to this story that remain to be cleared up. If you can help solve any of these outstanding mysteries, please leave a comment or send me a message on Twitter @WayOfThePanda.
There If there is a zoological specimen with a great story that you would like to see profiled, please contact Henry Nicholls @WayOfThePanda.
are several loose ends to this story that remain to be cleared up. If you can
help solve any of these outstanding mysteries, please leave a
comment or send me a message on Twitter @WayOfThePanda.
If there is a zoological specimen with a
great story that you would like to see profiled, please contact Henry Nicholls @WayOfThePanda.