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John James Audubon's Discovery of a Bird That Might Not Exist

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Wikimedia Commons

“It was in the month of February, 1814, that I obtained the first sight of this noble bird, and never shall I forget the delight which it gave me.”

That’s John James Audubon, the American naturalist and artist, writing in The Birds of America. Audubon is remembered today for creating some of the most spectacular paintings of North American wildlife ever made, identifying 25 new species and a number of sub-species of birds and lending his name to the Audubon Society, an environmental organization dedicated to conservation. His spotting of that noble bird one morning, though, left a blemish on his legacy, stirred up a years-long controversy among ornithologists, and led some people to brand him a liar or a nut. The bird has turned out to be unidentifiable and is rarely reliably reported in the wild.

The First Sighting

Audubon first saw one on a trip up the Mississippi River with a Canadian fur trader. Both were tired, cold, and miserable when an eagle flew overhead. The trader’s mood changed instantly.

"How fortunate!" he said. “This is what I could have wished. Look, sir! The Great Eagle, and the only one I have seen since I left the [Great] Lakes.”

Audubon leapt to his feet and watched the bird for a few minutes as it circled over their heads. It resembled an immature bald eagle, but he couldn’t identify it and decided it was a species new to him, if not everyone. The fur trader explained that the huge, brown birds were rare, and sometimes followed hunters and trappers in the north to scavenge what they could from a kill. They were also formidable hunters in their own right, diving into the Great Lakes to retrieve fish in their beaks. The behavior didn’t sound like that of either known North American eagle—the bald eagle, Haliaeetus leucocephalus, and the golden eagle, Aquila chrysaetos—and Audubon was convinced that the bird was an undiscovered species.

A few years later, he had another encounter with the mystery bird. He was in Kentucky visiting a friend, and walking along a path near a shack where they had slaughtered a hog a few days before.

“I saw an Eagle rise from a small enclosure not a hundred yards before me…and alight upon a low tree branching over the road,” wrote Audubon in Birds of America. “I prepared my double-barreled piece, which I constantly carry, and went slowly and cautiously towards him. Quite fearlessly he awaited my approach, looking upon me with undaunted eye. I fired and he fell.”

He and his friend examined the bird and acknowledged that neither of them knew what it was. They collected the corpse and brought it back to the house for further study. Audubon made a biological description and a life-size painting of what he dubbed Falco washingtonii, the bird of Washington or Washington’s eagle, in honor of America’s first president. He said of the connection between the two, “He was brave, so is the Eagle; like it, too, he was the terror of his foes; and his fame, extending from pole to pole, resembles the majestic soarings of the mightiest of the feathered tribe. If America has reason to be proud of her Washington, so has she to be proud of her great Eagle.”

According to Audubon’s description and depiction of the bird, it stood 3 feet, 7 inches tall and had a wingspan of 10 feet, 2 inches, making it far bigger than any known North American raptor. Given its size and a few other physical distinctions—among them a uniform scaling on its tarsi (the lower parts of a bird’s legs)—biologists accepted Audubon’s discovery as a legitimate new species and additional sightings, especially in the Great Lakes region, were reported in scientific journals for years after.

Not A New Species, After All

Soon, though, the tone around Washington’s eagle began to change. In the later years of Audubon’s life, other naturalists began to question whether the bird was really a distinct species. He was accused of taking sloppy measurements of his specimen and overstating the physical differences between his bird and other species. Washington’s eagle, as a species, was quickly discredited among scientists, the consensus being that the bird was either a misidentified bald eagle or a hoax and publicity stunt. Just a few years after Audubon’s death in 1851, the journal American Naturalist called it a valid species only among “amateur ornithologists.”

What did Audubon see, shoot and make such a big deal out of? Most of his critics suspected it was an exceptionally large northern bald eagle, which are all brown before they reach maturity and lack the distinctive white head the bird is known for. It’s possible that Audubon misidentified it because he was unfamiliar with the species’ development, but he wrote about plenty of encounters with both mature and immature bald eagles and should have been familiar with their changing appearance, and known one when he saw one. There’s also the nagging matter of his eagle’s size and tarsal scaling.

If Audubon really did discover an unknown giant North American eagle, science might never be able to confirm it. Ornithologists haven’t reported seeing anything like it in all their years studying raptors since, and reports from the public have turned out to be misidentifications. Only a handful of the birds were ever said to be captured, killed and preserved during Audubon’s day, and everyone one of those supposed specimens is long gone. One that was sent to the Linnean Society of London for safekeeping was auctioned off and its location is unknown. One at the Peale Museum in Philadelphia was destroyed in a fire. The ones at the New England Museum, the Cleveland Academy of Science and Museum of Natural History in Boston have all been lost and possibly destroyed. Even the specimen that Audubon painted is missing in action. Without a live or stuffed specimen matching Audubon’s description on which to run a DNA analysis, Washington’s eagle remains something of an avian Bigfoot, and maybe just an idea for the birds.

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Andreas Trepte, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 2.5
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Animals
Unwind With Some Live-Streamed Puffin Footage
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Andreas Trepte, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 2.5

Puffins are often depicted hopping around the rocky shores of Iceland, but the birds can also be found right here in the states. If you can’t make it up to their native habitat in Maine, this live stream will take you directly into their seaside burrow.

The live puffin cam on explore.org provides 24/7 views of a puffin couple living in the Seal Island National Wildlife Refuge off the coast of Maine. The feed is maintained by Project Puffin, an initiative launched by the National Audubon Society in 1973 to revive the animal's population in Maine's gulf. Today, the region hosts over 4000 puffins each summer.

After living in breeding colonies during the spring and summer, puffins spend the remainder of the year on the open sea.

You can take an intimate look at how the birds pass their time inland below.

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Animals
Mantises Regularly Catch and Feast On Birds, NBD

The next time you feel like you’re too small to make a difference, think of the mantis. Scientists have discovered that many species of these badass little bugs habitually hunt, kill, and devour entire birds. A report on the mantises’ impressive skills was published in The Wilson Journal of Ornithology.

It’s not like we thought mantises were vegetarians. Their taste for flesh, including each other's, is common knowledge. But so was their basic diet, which consists of bugs and spiders. Once in a blue moon, someone might spot a mantis eating a tiny lizard or a small snake—you know, animals that live on the ground. But birds? Like, the kind with wings? No. How would that even work?

Apparently, the mantises are making it work. Researchers set out to collect and compare every single report they could find of a mantis eating a bird. They figured they’d find a few. Maybe one or two mantis species had figured it out.

One or two species had. As had another one or two. And another ten after that. All in all, the researchers discovered 147 accounts of bird-eating mantises from 12 different species. And this wasn’t some exotic local custom, either; the mantises were grabbing birds in 13 different countries, and on every continent except Antarctica (and that may only be because there are no mantises there).

The paper’s authors were floored by their own findings. "The fact that eating of birds is so widespread in praying mantises, both taxonomically as well as geographically speaking, is a spectacular discovery," lead author Martin Nyffeler of the University of Basel said in a statement.

Of course, we’re not talking about big birds here. Of the 24 bird species spotted in mantis mouths, many were hummingbirds. But hummingbirds are no joke, either. Males competing for territory and mates habitually stab each other in the chest. While hunting, they can snap their beaks shut in less than one hundredth of a second. They may be pretty, but they’re hardly helpless.

A male ruby-throated hummingbird at a red feeder.
"Come at me, bro."
Cephas, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 3.0

Nyffeler and his colleagues note that the bugs’ bird eating is more than a party trick. Farmers and gardeners regularly release mantises into the wild, relying on the insects’ appetites for pest control. But you can’t tell a mantis what to do. It might not want to eat your bugs, especially if there are juicy birds nearby. And birds aren’t doing so great right now. We should probably give them a break.

Still thinking of unleashing your own mantis horde? The authors advise “great caution.”

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