**The Baby (unspeciated) Lemur**
(P.S. I feel I should tell you that it is a pigeon not an eagle)

1) Primates are divided into several groups that range from super easy to ridiculously hard to tell apart depending upon the particular species in hand. For example, apes have the very obvious morphological difference of no tail. As with every rule however there are exceptions, for example the tail-less barbary macaque, which has no tail, is not an ape. Although there are numerous ‘rules of thumb’ I think it’s fair to say that many species invoke the enviable identification trick of ‘just knowing’, to a certain extent. The main non-ape, non-monkey groups are bushbabies, tarsiers and lemurs. Once you get get your ‘eye-in’ for facial shapes and various other qualities, you can begin to see patterns that will allow you to come across a new species of primate and give a pretty good attempt at placing it into a category.

2) As we are not quite sure as to which lemur family our baby lemur belongs, I shall tell you about lemurs as a group. Lemurs are all endemic to Madagascar, although two species were introduced to the Comoros Islands where they have flourished. There are no (modern) species of lemur found anywhere else in the world (I mean in the wild… obviously).

3) There are currently approximately 100 recognised species and subspecies of lemur, although many scientists have been saying for years that there are likely to be many more. To back this up, they went and discovered several species within recent years, indicating (as zoological patterns seem to do) that more are likely to come out of the woodwork. The 100 odd known types include the smallest primate in the world; Madame Birth’s mouse lemur, which weighs only 30g. Awwww. The largest species of lemur is the spectacular indri which weighs up to 9kg. The huge number of lemurs means that the country of Madagascar ranks second in the world for the highest number of primate species. Brazil got the top spot, though with the Amazon fighting in it’s corner, you’d expect nothing less.

4) The word ‘lemur’ comes from Roman mythology. The ‘lemures’ were shades, ghosts, or spirits of the restless or malignant dead. The lemur was named after the lemures owing to their ‘ghostly vocalisations’, the reflective qualities of their eyes and possibly also the fact that many species are nocturnal.

5) For the majority of lemur species, the mating season is less than three weeks each year, the timing for which is directly related to environmental conditions. A single female is likely to be in oestrus for just a few days during this period which causes many a conservationist to pull their hair out. I mean their own hair, not the lemur’s hair in a fit of sadistic rage-filled frustration. The gestation period can be as short as nine weeks in some species but lasts for up to 24 weeks in others. Smaller species tend to have twins, though many have triplets or even quadruplets. Conversely, larger species normally have a single offspring, or twins on occasion. Newborns are vulnerable and are carried in the mother’s mouth of all places until they are old enough to hold on to the fur on the mother’s back. They drink the mother’s milk until the environment causes the next flush of fruit and shoots, when they begin to forage for themselves. They will stay with the mother until they are two years old.

How can Ancient art be brought to life by contemporary art? Is there a connection between ancient and new?

Tomb Raiders is the place were such questions should have an answer.

Florence’s temporal balloons

Get inspired by the intelligent ideas of the nine artists from the Central Saint Martin School. In May 14th the Petrie Museum, UCL, will present an exhibition in collaboration with Central St. Martin’s artists. A partnership which demonstrates how education plays a great role in the transformation and translation of the knowledge in museums. This exhibition brings the past back through contemporary works of the students of fine art. It sets an example of the power the objects of a museum hold within them in inspiring the minds of their examiners. It sheds light on the continuity of the meaning and significance of the objects after they end up in a museum.

Tais’ new god

The artists were closely exposed to the objects from the Museum’s collection and were given the chance to study, search and create their own works. Their works reflected their interpretation of the objects they examined. Artists were inspired in different ways; Some were inspired by the ancient art objects themselves Like Florence Lam. Inspired by the idea of eternity of the ancient objects that stood the test of time by conservation and restoration work , Florence used balloons that die in a very short time to create non eternal sculptures. A juxtaposition between the eternal objects of the museum and the modern non-eternal sculptures. Others had different approach in interpretation. Lauren Jetty, for instance, was inspired by the methodology Petrie Flinders has used in establishing the museum linking it to the material world in the museum. She went on photographing everything she owns creating a collection that talks about her. A collection that piles up to compose a story.
Alongside the direct engagement with the objects, the artists used different techniques and methods to reflect their interpretation of the ancient art works in implementing talented works and intelligent exhibits in a contemporary way of thinking. They used various materials and different media to express their thoughts and tell their own stories. They did drawings, took photographs created animations and audios and used unusual materials like balloons in creating the message they applied to their works. They proved the continuity of the lives of the objects after being acquisitioned in a museum. Through their works they tell us silently that the past and present are linked forever.
Don’t miss the chance. Come and explore how very small details can create great works.

 Kholood is an intern at the Petrie Museum, studying at UCL Qatar.

Team Grant receiving their Museums and Heritage Award

Rarely are the Grant Museum team allowed out. At the end of a typical day we’re stuffed back into our respective cases until the next morning when zoologising begins at dawn. Last night was an exception however as the team headed down to the illustrious premises of 8 Northumberland for the 11th Museums and Heritage Awards, the Oscars of the museum world if you will.

We were shortlisted for the Culture Pros Pick Award for the most inspiring museum or heritage visitor attraction. Over 500 nominations were received and the five museums that received the most nominations were put through to a public vote. This is the first time one of the Museums and Heritage Awards has been voted for by the public and we were suitably edge-of-our-seats with anticipation for most of last night. Our fellow nominees were Amlwch Copper Bins, Dorking Museum & Heritage Centre, Museum of London, and Stow Maries Aerodrome.

However, if you read the title of this post then you may already gathered that we won it! To prove it, here’s Scary Monkey with the award, complete with our grubby fingerprints from last night:

Woolly Monkey is chuffed to work at the Multi-Award winning Grant Museum of Zoology

We actually picked up two awards last night, we were accidentally given the Innovations Award trophy (again, we won this award last year), the evening’s host Sue Perkins mixed up the awards but eventually we managed to get the right trophy.

Winning this award is very exciting for the team, particularly as it was voted for by the public. We heartily thank all of our film buffs, twitter followers, animal lovers, lunch hour browsers, colleagues, peers, students, families, artists and young dinosaur geeks who made the effort to vote for us in this category. We pour our hearts and souls into the work we do at the Grant Museum and this award is evidence that we’re doing a good job of it. After all, without our visitors and users we’re just a room of stuff. The day to day running of the museum is done by a team of five, some of who are part time, but we have hundreds of colleagues from our department, UCL Museums and Public Engagement, across UCL and the wider university and museums sectors we work with who we want to thank for supporting and inspiring us.

You can see the full list of winners, commendations and nominees from last night’s awards here.

With last year’s award and this one we hopefully have a breeding pair, as I type this Grant Museum manager Jack Ashby and Director of Museums and Public Engagement Sally MacDonald are on their way to Belgium as the Grant Museum is nominated for the European Museum of the Year Award, the ceremony for which is this Saturday so don’t uncross your fingers just yet!

Mark Carnall is the Curator of the Grant Museum of Zoology

UPDATE 17/05/2013: Added the image from the awards ceremony.

The day began with a mixture of lectures that ranged from ‘Here’s a rhino I saved earlier’, through heart-breaking yet seemingly inevitable stories of the repercussions of poaching, with some amazing footage from the BBC thrown for lots of ooohs and ahhhs. Have you ever seen a rhino fly? Jo Scofield has, and now thanks to her and the BBC Natural World, so has an auditorium of suitably impressed rhinoceros lovers.

One of the conservation programmes in Kenya was represented at the event by Michael Dyer, the Managing Director no less. He gave recounted a brilliantly red-tape-less anecdote of their solution to when a vagabond rhino wander into an area at an unsuitable point in time. After some ums and ahs, they decided the best course of action was to treat her like the lady she was and use the art of gentle persuasion to… well, get rid of her. They lightly sedated her so that she was up and about but very sleepy and a little disoriented. They then blindfolded her to minimise spooking, tied a rope around her neck, and led her gently back to her habitat as easily as if they were taking a small puppy for a walk. Brilliant.

In a side-splittingly entertaining talk by John Payne from the Borneo Rhino Alliance, mostly we discovered that if you are important enough and entertaining enough, you can go off on as many rhino tangents as you like and still keep the audience captivated. In what was definitely the most thought-provoking talk of the day for me, John explained that it *may* just be the case that even if mankind disappeared today, thus severely easing the habitat destruction and poaching rates, the Sumatran rhino may well still go extinct. I would assume we all know that to continue your species, you need to produce baby versions of yourself, which grow up and take over when you pass on. It seems that Sumatran rhinos may not have worked this out. Here is the evidence:
1) If you put two Sumatran rhinos together (mm, mf, ff) they will fight. To the death if they so choose. Except for about two magical days of non-legally-recognised matrimonial bliss, only occurring about once every 22-28 days.
2) Evidence suggests that male Sumatran rhinos in general have a low sperm count
3) Even if they had an epic sperm count, over 50% of Sumatran rhino females appear to have severe reproductive tract pathologies. The cysts that build up in the female’s internal organs making reproduction difficult is, ironically, caused by a lack of pregnancies. Ahh nature, thou art a fickle menace.

I would like to spend my entire day writing you a stupendously long blog on everything we heard and learnt at Rhino May Day but I’d probably get in trouble with my Manager for not doing any other work (plus technically I don’t think a piece of writing qualifies as a blog any longer when it is a a trillion billion words long). Just before I wrap up though, boosting the informational corner of the Javan rhino was Save the Rhino’s very own director Cathy Dean. Check this out for a stop in your tracks what-has-mankind-reduced-the-world-to fact:

If Krakatoa ever *really* blows, the ENTIRE Javan rhino SPECIES would be wiped out. There are NONE in captivity, or elsewhere in the wild.

Jeepers. That seems like enough to make anyone get out their chequebook and save some species.

Emma-Louise Nicholls is the Museum Assistant at the Grant Museum of Zoology

**The Short-Nosed Echidna**

1) The echidna is a special sort of creature for the unequivocally rare party trick (amongst mammals) of laying eggs (clearly not rare overall in the animal kingdom) rather than giving birth to live young. These sorts of super unique mammals are called Monotremes. There are only five species of egg laying mammal in the entire (modern) world. These are split into two major groups; the platypus (of which there is one lone species, awww) and the echidna. There are at least four species of echidna: the short-nosed, the eastern long-nosed, the western long-nosed and the Attenborough’s long-nosed (also called the Sir David’s long-nosed. No points for guessing who it is named after).

2) Our featured mammalian egg-layer is of the short-nosed variety. The scientific name for this species is Tachyglossus aculeatus which means ‘quick tongue’. (Stop it). It was named in 1792 by a natural historian called Shaw.

3) The echidna’s spines are made of keratin (like your finger nails and… rhino horn for example) and are longer than the fur beneath so that they protrude. The spines form an obvious defense mechanism from passing predators.

4) All five species of monotreme (or every egg laying mammal naturally occurring in the wild, if you like) are to be found in either Australia, New Guinea, or on a number of the neighbouring small islands. The short-nosed echidna is the only echidna species to inhabit mainland Australia however.

5) The short nosed echidna (which is also known as the short-beaked echidna, common echidna, and the spiny ant eater, just FYI) inhabits areas that are covered in forest, rocky areas or sandy plains. They feed, as you may have guessed from the previous bracketed tangent) on ants and termites. Oh and grubs… so really it should be known as the spiny-ant-termite-grub-and-probably-other-invertebrates-as-well-eater. Echidnas rely on their long sticky tongues to catch their prey and are entirely lacking in teeth.

Natural history and art have a shared history and for a long time were the same thing. Trace the origins of an interest in the natural world and biology back to its roots and description, observation, inspiration and illustration are natural history. You couldn’t prise the ‘art’ or the ‘science’ bits out of it without undermining the whole endeavor. This tradition continues today, if we think about the Wildlife photographer of the year, the imagery employed by conservation agencies, the latest Wellcome collection exhibition, the works of Mark Dion or even the plates and graphs from  scientific journal papers they can be considered both art and science. Particularly, with the pervasive use of the Internet, visual media is increasingly how we communicate our ideas, agendas and passions. Be it a powerful image that sums up the plight of Orang Utans, a meme that causes us to chuckle over a tea break or the sheer beauty of what is called ‘data porn’, that is, a nice infographic that shows rather than tells the story.

So on any given day at the Grant Museum we could have visiting scientific researchers who may be measuring the dimensions of a skull or looking for the differences between fossils. Alternatively we could have an artist creating an installation for our Foyer and we’re excited to see the reactions to the museum for our upcoming sculpture season collaboration with the Slade School of Fine Arts. Rarely is there a day where we don’t have an art group or individual artists sketching or photographing specimens on display. All of the above are equally valid uses of museum collections and this post follows a day out for one of our specimens down to the Royal College of Art.

A number of weeks ago, MA Sculpture student at the Royal College of Art, Claire Poulter approached the museum wanting to look at our elephant specimens. We have a number of elephant remains here not just the dried heart and the three skulls on display but a number of skeletal parts, a series of teeth, plaster casts, fossils, microscope slides and wet specimens (including a section through a trunk). Claire was interested in teeth so we arranged an appointment for her to come and see them.

Claire was inspired by elephant teeth because she heard that once elephants use up their finite teeth sets, they can, if otherwise healthy, starve to death. Elephants are also linked to memory and Claire was driven by exploring the origins of things. Where did these teeth come from and what role do they now have in a museum of zoology? Elephant teeth are also highly curious objects which is why we use them a lot here in our teaching and handling activities. Elephant teeth are very tactile and recognisable but at the same time alien and many of our visitors are amazed at the size, shape and weight of these teeth, particularly when they see how elephants have to carry around four of these dense, heavy teeth in addition to the two tusks they are sadly hunted for.  Whilst Claire was here I accidentally slipped into science communication mode and started to bring out some of our specimens that show what makes up an elephant tooth including this series of tooth plates, the hard enamel plates that form the grinding surface in teeth which can be dissolved out of a tooth or found in the fossil record.

Elephant tooth plates LDUCZ-Z328 ready for scanning

Claire was really taken with these tooth plates and was keen to incorporate teeth and these plates into her work. Initially we discussed making casts of some of our specimens but this puts specimens at increased risk of damage and can be quite invasive, particularly for subfossil and fossil teeth with are peppered with cracks and crevices. Instead, Claire modelled the tooth for a larger sculpture in iron and decided to scan the tooth plates to create a 3D model with which she could work with.

Last week I packed the objects up and whisked them over to the Rapidform facility at the Royal College of Art to scan them in. Whilst there technician Hannah Terry and Claire scanned in the tooth plates using a handheld scanner to create a 3 dimensional model.

Elephant tooth plates LDUCZ-Z238 being scanned. Is it still art if there are lasers?

Claire scanning a tooth plate with a handheld scanner at the Royal College of Art

Screen grab of one of the tooth plate scans

I was also lucky enough to get a tour of the facility at the Royal College of Art and the ongoing link between art and science was very much on show. Not only was this the facility that produced the handling replicas at the Natural History Museum’s Treasures Gallery but there were various printed animal remains, human body parts from palaeoanthropological reconstructions of fossil remains and rapid prototype replicas of important specimens. Also scattered around the various machines at the facility were impossible printed abstract sculptures, engineering parts, printed designs for car parts and haunting human face masks printed in plaster, paper, titanium and a host of other substrates. Again, in this facility it’s impossible to draw the line between art and science or to say how one can possibly exist without the other.

I’m excited to see what Claire produces in the latest of the ongoing conversation with artists taking inspiration from the natural world and in turn those sculptures, prints, paintings, drawings and films inspiring the next generations of scientists and artists.

Isomorphological forms

Here at the Grant Museum we display our objects taxonomically (and have done since Grant founded the collection in 1828), objects are grouped together to reflect their evolutionary relationship to each other. This method of viewing the natural world has been with us since the Swedish naturalist Carl Linneaus introduced his work that classified the natural world, Systema naturalis, in the 18th Century. This method of classification has changed over time to reflect and accommodate current thinking in science, but primarily the principle has remained unchanged, grouping animals based on shared characteristics.

Artist researcher Gemma Anderson and a group of the public took another view of our collection based on her concept of Isomorphology.

Isomorphology
By Gemma Anderson
As an artist, my interest spans zoological, mineralogical and botanical collections I spend a lot of time drawing specimens and observing form – which has led to an awareness of the resemblances between species of separate kingdoms. As I work, I have become aware that there is no specific documentation of cross-kingdom resemblances between the animal, the vegetable and the mineral. With further thought, I have realized that behind these perceived resemblances are various geometric forms and symmetries. These form the basis of the concept of ‘Isomorphology’ – a new term which I have coined. It is derived from ‘Isomorphism’; a mathematical and biological concept.

Isomorphology is a comparative, drawing based method of enquiry into the shared forms of animal, mineral and vegetable morphologies. As a holistic and visual approach to classification, Isomorphology runs parallel to scientific practice while belonging to the domain of artistic creation. It is complementary to science, addressing relationships that are left out of the scientific classification of animal, vegetable and mineral morphologies.

Re-classified cabinet

Working with a group of 22 members of the public of various backgrounds from art students to mathematicians we explored Isomorphology in the context of the Grant Museum’s collections. I re-classified certain zoological specimens in the cabinets and mineral specimens on the tables into the visual categories of Isomorphology (Hexagonal, Five Fold symmetry

etc), I then invited participants to make drawings from these specimens. Afterwards we came to discuss the possibilities of joining different forms and symmetries together, to create a chimera joining zoological and mineral specimens, based on their shared forms and symmetries. This led to some amazing creations, salamander seahorses, coral tail bones, and zoological chimeras composed of countless anatomical features.

Sharing with the public my concept of Isomorphology and leading this workshop raised some interesting questions, from the visitors, for me to reflect on, here are a choice few.

Gemma discussing Isomorphology

‘Why draw the specimen when I could take a photograph?’
This led to discussions about observation, the value of spending time with specimens, and how the selective process of drawing emphasizes morphological features, and makes forms easier to compare with one another.

‘How did you start working with scientists?’
My own process of working with museums in London began in 2005, always motivated by drawing and observing new forms, and slowly building relationsh

ips with individual scientists and institutions. I believe that ideas and questions can take you anywhere, and through drawing you can learn about anything.

‘Why do these forms and symmetries re-occur across animal, mineral and vegetable species?’
There is no simple answer……some forms are efficient structures, some are the result of convergent evolution, some of genetics and chemistry. There are many ways to respond to this question, but all the explanations are partial, and many aspects remain mysterious (even to scientists).

Our session at the Museum ended by discussing the potential to think about observation as a creative way to engage with the natural world and to practice this approach, not only in the context of the museum, but on the street, in the park and the garden.

‘Sala-horse’ chimera creation

Sketches from a participant

Sketches from a participant

Note:
Gemma Anderson has been developing Isomorphology as a practice based PhD research project and creative educational model (www.isomorphology.com). She has been interested in the Grant Museums collections since she was an MA student at the Royal College of Art in 2005. Many of the specimens from the Grant Museum collections and UCL’s Geology collections appear in her work, most notably in the Wellcome Trust Arts Award project ‘Portraits: Patients and Psychiatrists’ 2010-2011 (www.gemma-anderson.co.uk/portraits).

Dean Veall is Learning Officer at the Grant Museum of Zoology

Culture Vulture: A vulture skull in UCL Art Museum

This is the second of our Culture Vulture exhibition reviews (the first is here) As I mentioned in an earlier article about whether a degree in museum studies was worth it it’s very important for museum professionals in all kinds of roles to not just act as guardians of material culture but also to go out and consume it. Visiting exhibitions is a great way to ummm ‘borrow’ ideas in exhibition design and if an exhibition is doing its job well then you’ll come away with a mind full of new thoughts and ideas.

I’ve been along to Ice Age Art: arrival of the modern mind at the British Museum and was excited to see how the museum would interpret a narrative which is equal parts natural history, archaeology and art history. When it comes to academia it seems that humans love to find ways of boxing in disciplines and practices rather than accept that they are all interconnected. This can be seen in the names of departments, museums and the conferences that we attend but in my opinion it’s cross disciplinary interactions that can be the most interesting. Two big camps, traditionally pitched as antagonists are ‘Art’ and ‘Science’. Does Ice Age Art cater for both of these audiences or has one group (you have to carry a card) had more of a say?

 Ice Age Art, cleverly billed as an exhibition 40,000 years in the making; a rather quick turn around for most exhibitions, brings together an amazing collection of artefacts created by anatomically modern humans between 40,000 and 10,000 years old. If you’ve ever had a passing interest in the subject of early art then there’s no doubt that you’ll be able to find the objects that bring the subject to life in this exhibition. From the Lion Man of the Hohlenstein Stadel* through to the ‘donii’ figures that illustrate guilty pleasure read Jean M.Auel’s Earth’s Children series. It really is through the discovery of these objects that palaeontology bleeds into archaeology and anthropology and for the first time in history people are creating objects that are more than just the tools for day to day survival. It’s an astonishing accomplishment to have been able to bring this array of objects together and unless this exhibition travels it will be the last time in our lifetime that you’ll be able to see these objects all in one place.

I think that this exhibition could have easily been on the ground floor of the old reading room space that currently hosts the big exhibitions at the British Museum, instead it is in the smaller raised gallery in the Great Court. Trying to book tickets for this exhibition and talking to colleagues trying to do the same, it seems that the exhibition has been very popular and whilst I was there one had to adopt the slow penguin shuffle to get around the exhibition and see all the objects. It’s hard to criticise an exhibition for being too popular and hopefully the success of this one will lead to other exhibitions on the topic.

Throughout the exhibition works of ‘recent’ art are controversially juxtaposed with the Ice Age works perhaps to illustrate that some topics and subjects have always inspired artists. My take on it was that some recent artists are just riffing of the 40,000 year old originals. Either way, from what I saw, the works of Matisse and Moore went largely ignored the ancient objects themselves proving more than enough of a draw.

I would have liked to have seen more about the production techniques and what must have been painstaking effort that went into turning a tusk, tooth or tyne into an intricately carved figure, portrait or landscape scene. There is a short video at the beginning of the exhibition but it didn’t quite have the same impact as the analagous section in the Bronze exhibition that recently ran at the Royal Academy of Arts. However, what was excellent were the illustrations showing exactly where inside a tusk, tooth or horn some of the sculptures came from which really hit home the planning and skill that was needed to produce such works.

As with all interpretations of works or art, but particularly for works whos creators we are so separated from in time, a certain amount of speculation is required about the intentions of the artist and meaning of the creations. Occasionally, on one or two labels, the speculation goes a bit too far. Works that were exploded during the process of firing are unnecessarily interpreted as performance pieces and two rearing horse sculptures separated in time by thousands of years and across space by a number of miles are needlessly speculated as being the same horse. Fortunately though, by and large the interpretation is descriptive and informative and thankfully not just a ‘tombstone’ label you are likely to encounter in a modern art gallery.

Overall there is a good balance between the science and the art side of things and hopefully those who are more art inclined will be inspired by the science bits as much as I was inspired by the arty bits. The exhibition runs until the 2nd of June, if you can get tickets I’d advise you go and if your wallet can take it there’s a lovely catalogue of the exhibition we’d love you to donate to the Grant Museum archives.

* It’s a minor point hence why it’s down here but after visiting the exhibition and raving about some of the objects I was told that some of them, including this piece, were replicas. Replicas per se aren’t a problem after all the material in this exhibition is extremely fragile and truly irreplaceable however cryptically labeling the object as a replica, as was the case with the Lion Man, is almost as bad as not labeling them at all. Naughty.

Mark Carnall is the Curator of the Grant Museum of Zoology

Could knowledge of this water-holding burrowing frog save your life in the desert?

It is a well known fact – based on on numerous scientifically accurate feature films – that in the event of the end of the world some people will survive the initial devastation only to find themselves barely surviving in some post-apocalyptic hell. Here I’m exploring whether zoologists would fare better than the average survivor. If the answer is yes, perhaps university biology admissions tutors can add a slide to their recruitment presentations to highlight this additional benefit in what is already the best subject in the world.

I spent this weekend on a survivalist course deep in the Dorset wilderness for an old friend’s stag do. As kids, along with his two brothers, we had spent our time building shelters in the woods, making fires, distilling mud, firing bows and arrows and generally acting as if the world had already been taken over by luminous slime mould from the future. As teens and students (and occasionally still) we spent our holidays walking in the mountains and not really engaging much with humanity. Wildlife and wild-living have stuck with us all: the stag is now an ecologist, I run a zoology museum (and spend a couple of months a year living in a tent in outback Australia) and his brothers are biology and geography teachers. As a result we are all pretty cocky when it comes to hanging around in woodland areas. This weekend’s course made us all question our ability to actually survive.

Should a virus/aliens/a powerful strain of concrete decay/zombies/frozen dinosaurs/Simon Cowell/nuclear war cause us to abandon human dwellings, shelter, water and food are the priorities. Would my academic and professional experiences as a zoologist make me Dennis Quaid?

Shelter
On the face of it there is nothing in any zoology textbook that will help you stay out of the wind and rain. However very many zoologists do spend a lot of time in the field and hopefully this would stand us in good stead. We are more likely to know about prevailing winds (to chose which side of a natural structure to begin building), but this knowledge is by no means specialist. I’d like to think our experience of remote-living during fieldwork would give us an edge over the hoi polloi when it came to mentally dealing with the future that lay ahead, and the kinds of questions we’d be asking ourselves when it came to working out how to survive. What’s more, zoologists are generally quite prepared to sit still in the rain for long periods without moaning. So while our facts and science will not save us here, hopefully our experience might.

[there are of course situations when zoology would save you: the ability to recognise - and avoid - a bear's den, for example. Or the presence of a particular species of frog that indicates a cave is prone to flash flooding. But such eventualities are probably too unlikely to hang on to].

Water
Here is somewhere that training in the ways of animals could save your life – both in terms of finding water and deciding whether it is fit to drink. Animals are excellent indicators of water, particularly herbivores, some insects and smaller birds. It’s reasonable to say that zoologists are likely to be able to recognise the signs of animals in an area. Score one for us. Following animal trails downhill and noticing if birds and are flying in a straight line without stopping are great clues of where water is.

Certain bugs will tell a trained eye whether water is stagnant or polluted (and zoologists are probably more likely to be encouraged by the presence of lots of most species of pond insects to indicate water quality, rather than put off by it).

Zoologists should also be able to tell you how to get water out of an animal (blood, eyes, fish spine etc).

Food
Here you would think this is where we come into our own. Surely animal-experts are the go-to-guys when it comes to tracking down animals to eat. Many of us also know how to trap and handle them from our field experience. Dissection is a dying part of zoological training (in schools and universities), but such know-how surely would help you get the best out of a kill.

Cooking crabs, having removed the potentially toxic gills

Knowing how animals live and function can be a big help – which bit of a crab, for example, could accumulate all the nasty chemicals humans use, and should be avoided? Why would it be a bad idea to eat a cat’s liver, but not a deer’s?

So in the short term that all sounds good. Looking at longer periods we might be able to predict when migrating animals will arrive. There’s also the general biology stuff we know when it comes to understanding why and how our own bodies are failing, and perhaps what to do about it.

Should we still be around when farming needed to be re-invented, pre-made experts in animal behaviour (or indeed the specific science of domestication) would be as valuable as a lighter.

If you know about animals, you also need to know a bit about plants. There’d be some knowledge of ones to avoid, but it’s unlikely that zoology alone could save us here when it came to rediscovering the full gambit of bushfood which has been all but forgotten in Britain since the arrival of bananas.

Despite all the help zoology gives the hunter/gatherer, it was the issue of food that my friends and I decided would eventually kill us. Finding enough of everything needed to survive for a length of time is an extraordinarily tall order, even if you can tell the difference between a seal and a sea lion.

That said, I’d like to think we’d outlive the palaeontologists. And as for the accountants…

Jack Ashby is Manager of the Grant Museum of Zoology

**The Killer Whale Foetus**

1) The killer whale, rumour has it, is a name coined by fishermen in ye olde days that witnessed them killing whales, and subsequently named it ‘killer whale’. In the modern day however, many conservationists feel that the name ‘killer whale’ gives the animal negative connotations and prefer to use the name orca. This doesn’t seem unreasonable and so our specimen shall henceforth be known as the orca foetus.

2) It is reported by some, for whom I do not vouch, that the orca is the most geographically widespread mammal after humans. I would expect say, rats and mice, to have something to squeak about that, for example. Orca are found throughout the world’s oceans, and in semi enclosed areas such as the Gulf of Mexico, the Gulf of California, the Red Sea and the Arabian Gulf. Bizarrely not minding cooler waters, they inhabit areas from the poles to the equator.

3) Despite being somewhat ubiquitous, orcas are sadly endangered. The culprit is of course us. Above and beyond direct affects such as hunting, we also are really quite prolific at destorying oceanic habitats and even, sadly, ramming them with boats. Collisions with boats is common in the world of aquatic animals, and many whales, dolphins and sharks (for example) show scarring due to propeller blades. Many more, aren’t that lucky.

4) Orca hunt using echolocation, a bit like a monochromatic overgrown wingless bat. If you like. Although, as with most mammals, they will pick and choose what they eat depending on what comes along at the time, orca mostly prefer other mammals such as seals, sea lions and dolphins. It is the only cetacean (whales and dolphins) to routinely do so. They are also noteworthy in the cetacean world for their comparative fin ratio. Whilst researching for this blog I had a ‘holy baloney’ moment when I read that the dorsal fin of a male orca can grow up to an extremely impressive 1.8 metres in height. That is taller than me darn it! Perhaps needless to say, that is the largest dorsal fin of any cetacean. Respect.

5) Although orca will begin to be sexually useful at the age of 15, they will continue to grow until their 21st birthday. Give or take. Whilst there is no set breeding season, within the northern hemisphere calves tend to be born between October and March, whereas in the Southern hemisphere it appears to be year round. The beautiful monochromatic appearance of the orca becomes more distinctive with age, as the white areas of a calf’s body tend to be slightly orange in colour. One of the reasons that hunting is an issue for orca populations is because females will only give birth once every 3 to 8 years and births in females over the age of forty have never been recorded, severely limiting the number of children a female orca can have in her lifetime. For the remaining 50 or so years of their lives, the female orcas assume a grand-parental role in which they pass on experience, and influence the behaviour of the younger individuals within their pod.