Horsing around, or hippocampery

As a boy, my mother would take me into Carlisle, the big city (population 100,000), located 10 miles from Brampton (population 4,000), the small market town in which I was brought up. One thing I liked to do, as probably every child does, is to peruse pet stores, although my mother was quite impervious to my entreaties to return home laden with various cute creatures. Fish didn’t interest me much (children are tactile and soon grow tired of watching things swim around without being able to touch them) until the day I first saw seahorses. I must have been 4 years old, perhaps 5 at most, and I was utterly transfixed by these strange, quite unearthly beings. There is something eerie about their appearance and their very slow movements in the water that seems to hint at another, hidden truth: they are alien creatures transplanted on earth. Perhaps I’m being hyperbolic here, but the seahorse is a fish unlike other fish and unique in all marine life. And let’s face it, there are some weird and positively bizarre life forms in the oceans of our planet.

 

Courtesy of

Courtesy of Flickr

 

It’s quite easy to see where the equine nomenclature came from and people have always seen a horse’s head in the features of this delicate fish; the genus name is hippocampus which comes from the ancient Greek for horse (hippo) and sea monster (kampos). The French term, hippocampe, derives from this root, a suitably exotic name which shames the sheer banality of the English one. The Greek term has a nod to the strangeness of the beast but also to its savagery. Looks are rather deceptive in this case for the seahorse is an unreconstructed predator, its long snout being developed in order to devour escaping plankton and small crustaceans, of which it consumes massive amounts since it is bereft of a stomach meaning that food passes through its tiny system very quickly. Unlike most fish, our greedy friend doesn’t have scales, only a thin layer of skin arranged in rings, and it’s also a very poor swimmer. The dwarf seahorse, for example, only covers a distance of 5 feet per hour. It is for this reason that it prefers to use its tail as an anchor and patiently wait for food to comes its way. Nature has compensated the lack of nautical speed with camouflage. The upright posture of the seahorse also aids it to pass as a reed or plant to any unsuspecting smaller prey which should have the misfortune to venture near its stationary post.

 

Sea dragon

 

This past weekend I visited the Birch Aquarium in San Diego, part of the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, and encountered a close relative of the seahorse belonging to the same family, Syngnathidae: the leafy seadragon. I had never seen this particular fish before nor even heard of it, and I captured the image above of one. It is an absolutely ravishing animal, one which inspires wonder at the beauty and ingenuity of nature. And dare I say it, points to the hallmark of a Creator who has so patently designed the intricacies of life in all of its forms? Its name refers to the leafy protrusions all over its body which serve as superb disguise, making it resemble seaweed or an aquatic plant. Behind this visual beauty is the harsh reality of the fact that this fetching piscine specimen survives by daily acts of extinguishing the life of other creatures through means of stealth. One could describe it as the politician of the sea.

The little fellow is also often monogamous (though not all are, many tend to be) and, famously, the male carries the fertilized eggs instead of the females, allowing the French adjective enceinte for pregnant to be used in the masculine form of enceint and therefore an anecdote for a grammar class on a rainy afternoon. Lest it be thought that male seahorses are completely nurturing, the father has nothing more to do with the upbringing of the young once they are born and released from his pouch. Sounds familiar. What is absolutely astonishing and more so than the males carrying eggs to birth, is the fact that seahorses engage in an elaborate courtship ritual. While they normally have disjointed and somewhat clumsy movements, preferring to remain at rest, they will spent on average 8 hours in a mating dance. Not only that, this dance is incredibly graceful and really stunning to behold. There’s a clip, here. It’s tempting to anthropomorthize the creature and to see human traits in this; at the same time, such an expending of energy and time in purely evolutionary terms serves no purpose or function. Yet again, this lovely animal gives pause for thought.

 

Toshikane 009

 

Today’s cufflinks capture a little of the elusive allure of the seahorse. The pair is made by the Japanese artist Toshikane Arita. The company is something of an enigma in terms of its history but we know that it was active from the 1940s to the 1960s. This pair is made out of porcelain with sterling silver backs and dates to the 1950s and is a marvelous work of art. The vivid almost turquoise blue is embellished with some careful hand-painted detail, notably in gold leaf. What is interesting is that this looks like a pregnant male. The seahorse has long functioned as a symbol of strength and tenacity, something that was resonant with post-World War II Japan which was on a difficult road to economic and psychological recovery. And we can all find something that hits home in that search for inner resources of fortitude that we think we don’t have and yet with which biology and genetics -and our Creator- has endowed us.

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Eagle eyed

Along with owls, eagles are easily the most recognizable of all birds. One might confuse a crow with a blackbird with a raven, but an eagle is not to be missed or mistaken. It occupies the highest place in the avian food chain exemplified in the curious fact that it alone, out of all the range of birds of prey, does not cast a backward look before swooping down on its victim. Quite simply, it doesn’t have to exercise any such caution. Unfortunately, in a terrible metaphor for the destructive force that is humanity, its threat is humankind in the form of the elimination of its habitat or  via poisonous chemicals which have been unleashed into the environment. Added to this in the UK is egg collectors indulging in their eccentric and illegal pursuit of oology. It’s a bizarre hobby that could only exist in the UK and was the subject of an excellent article in the New Yorker a few months back.

The different aquiline species eat a range of animals from snakes to sheep and there have been reports of dogs being carried off. In parts of southern Europe, some breeds enjoy turtles, dropping the unfortunate creatures from great heights onto rocks in order to shatter their shells. This enterprising habit led to one of the most unusual alleged deaths in history, that of the Greek playwright Aeschylus in 455 BC, when an eagle mistook his bald head for a rock -an entirely natural and understandable error- and released a turtle aimed at his skull. Not content with this quirky demise, fate had another twist in store: the turtle survived unscathed and with its shell intact. There is a helpful illustration of the episode below, from the fifteenth-century Florentine Picture Chronicle by Maso Finguerra. It still doesn’t overshadow the death of the Greek scholar and writer Philitas of Cos, who was so obsessed with erroneous word usage that he forgot to eat during his research and wasted away in around 285 BC. This confirms what many of us have long suspected: pedantry is a health risk. Philitas would have been the ultimate Internet troll.

ImageThe eagle has a venerable tradition of symbolizing nations and deities, featuring on countless coats of arms, flags, and standards from Poland to Mexico. It was the beacon of imperial Rome and the emblem of Jupiter, a fitting sign of colonial aggression being an accomplished predator. Jupiter adopted several animal disguises to come from Olympus and copulate with attractive humans: with Europa he assumed the form of a bull; with Lyda, he was a swan; perhaps the most peculiar is in the form of golden rain which impregnated Danaë, locked in a tower by her husband. There is something quite fitting about carnal lust being literally incarnated in bestial form, but little wonder that the Romans would ultimately reject the seedy and sadistic violence of mythology for the audacious religion of peace and compassion which would flow through its networks like a virus. It was, paradoxically, that great persecutor of Christians, Diocletian, who perhaps did more to facilitate the end of paganism. Diocletian, who ruled as master of the West from 284 to 305, had two radical methods of power: he delegated, ruling with a co-emperor, Maximian named Augustus, and then also two junior emperors, or Caesars; then, he relinquished power in 305, with no coercion to do so, spending his last years tending his garden. It was Diocletian’s unexpected approach which led to the accession of one of the two Caesars, Constantius, to follow him in an uncontested and uncontroversial succession. While Constantius only lived for a few months, this relatively internal stability led to his son to succeed him. This named heir, Constantine, would turn the world on his head with his conversion to Christianity. The eagle would be supplanted by the dove.

ImageJupiter’s tastes were not confined to women and his closest love, exemplified in the fact that he was transported to the heavens and made immortal, alone out of all the god’s lovers, was a beautiful youth named Ganymede. The homoerotic subtext of the myth is not as important as its stress on the homosocial nature of patriarchy; Rome was built on the concept of patria potestas, that every father in society, from the head of the familial unit to the leader of the gods, had authority of life and death over the women and children in his household. Michel Foucault reminds us that this notion evolved directly into the western subordination of women which remains a feature of societies today, albeit subtler than in times past. Rubens’s visually stunning representation of the Rape of Ganymede (1611) -rape here in the old sense of abduction- does not shy away from same-sex sensuality in the close and affectionate grasp of the young man on to the eagle, the quiver of arrows possessing a prominent phallic suggestion. Ganymede, here, seems like a nervous bride before her wedding night rather than the unwillingly kidnap victim of some visual and textual versions. Take the stark counterpoint in Rembrandt’s interpretation of the scene in 1634, below.

ImageNot only is the boy completely unwilling in this painting but his extreme youth -he is a toddler- firmly desexualizes the legend. At the same time, the somber, dark colors evoke menace, as does the evil-looking eagle. The most disturbing element in the painting is to be found in the child’s real distress, for he does more than cry: he actually urinates himself out of fear. Rembrandt’s picture is certainly closer to the savage nature of classical mythology, which took few prisoners over the millennia which it held humans captive to its institutionalized threats.

ImageThe eagle’s reputation has certainly come far since its Roman synonym for dominance. We stand in awe of the size and plumage of this beautiful bird, and the founders of the American Republic adopted the North American bald eagle, above, as the fledgling state’s national emblem in 1782. In doing so, their intention was undoubtedly to create a link with imperial Rome but they unwittingly forged one with Native-American tribes which had venerated this bird as a spiritual messenger between humans and the divine.

ImageToday’s cufflinks are from Taxco, Mexico, a country whose official flag and coat of arms feature an eagle. They’re made out of sterling silver and bear the maker’s mark of Jaimes. They feature a stylized four eagle heads and are rather distinctive, though their age is difficult to estimate since they could date from the 1950s to the 1980s. A reminder, perhaps, that the eagle is timeless. Unless, that is, humans don’t succeed in making it extinct.