Seth Mosley and Natural History

Jim (I never knew his second name) was the Warden of Moor House Field Station during my time there [1] and his duties were to look after the buildings of the Station and to assist in the running of the place. He also supported the research on grouse that was being conducted by a team of researchers using a wonderful black Labrador called Heather, that I loved. When I chatted to Jim, it was clear that he had first-hand, and expert, knowledge of dippers (Cinclus cinclus), but the only people to know about this were those that engaged him in conversation - there were no written records (of which I was aware). It led me to think about the wealth of information held by amateur natural historians and how this knowledge could be made available for a wider audience in the 2020s [2].

I don’t know what sparked Jim’s interest in natural history, but he was proud of being from the area of the Pennines around Moor House and I would imagine that his observations on dippers, and much other wildlife, stemmed from his early years. Perhaps from a parent, or a teacher, or from something that he read, or saw in museums? Fortunately, we know about the background, and interests, of one “working-class naturalist” – Seth Lister Mosley – from an excellent biography by Alan Brooke, a historian and activist from the same part of Yorkshire as Seth [3]. Unlike Jim, Seth influenced a wide audience although, until the publication of Alan Brooke’s book, his work was not well known to contemporary natural historians.

Nature’s Missionary [4] (see above) describes how Seth first became interested in natural history and how his interest developed into museum curation, a newspaper column, ideas on education, and in showing how humans need to be at one with the rest of the natural world. At first, he supported himself and his young family by working as a painter and decorator, but then natural history took over, as he branched out into collecting, illustrating, curating and writing. Seth acknowledged that his interest in plants and animals was nurtured by his father, James Mosley, who was a convicted poacher and an expert with guns, shooting birds that were subsequently stuffed and placed in cases [4]. He was an independent spirit and a secularist, while Seth’s mother was also a secularist, with a good knowledge of plants.

James made a living as a taxidermist at a time when many people, of all social classes, delighted in having display cases of birds – and also of butterflies and moths. It is not known whether he used Charles Waterton’s method of preserving bird skins [5], but mention of arsenic as a curing agent in Nature’s Missionary, together with the use of the term “stuffing”, suggests a more traditional approach. Although the various museums that Seth curated contained many cabinets of birds and insects, he was also keen to rear insects and became expert in identifying various pest species. In time, Seth turned away from the practice of preparing cases of exhibits and was a strong advocate of studying wildlife in its natural habitat, making drawings and notes of what he saw, and that practice formed the basis of a regular newspaper column that made Seth well known, both locally and to a wider readership. “He was always pleased when he was acknowledged by strangers or interest was expressed in his column”. [4]

Seth organised rambles for groups to various places around Huddersfield and he also enjoyed solitary walks. Alan Brooke [4] quotes Seth on the importance to him of this activity: 

I never walk into the country on a bright, sunny day, especially when I am alone and therefore have the opportunity to think as I walk along, but I become filled with happiness that I am anxious to get back to put my thought down on paper..

It’s a feeling that many of us have in walking alone in the countryside and, in this, there is a parallel between Seth and Rousseau [6], although there is no knowing whether Seth was familiar with Rousseau’s writings about walking in Nature or about education, another passion that occupied Seth. He believed that we are all part of Nature and that we must recognise this – a sentiment that is even more important today than it was then, when increasing industrialisation was beginning to have such an adverse effect on the environment. His ideas on conservation mirror those of Charles Waterton of the Walton Hall estate near Wakefield, a short distance from Huddersfield [7]. As Seth said in a quote in Alan Brooke’s book [4]: 

The secret of a happy life is to find out what there is in Nature and make ourselves partners in the concern.

His deep knowledge of the natural world was also important in Seth’s religious development, as he left the secular views of his younger days and became a Methodist, believing that all that he saw reflected God. He was not a literal creationist, but a firm supporter of evolutionary theory and he disliked “the narrow interpretation which the materialistic scientists on the one hand, and narrow minded religionists on the other put upon the Bible account, each refusing to see the question from the other’s point of view.” [4] Quite what he felt about Henry Gosse and his strict adherence to the account in Genesis [8] can be imagined, although he would surely have admired Gosse as a natural historian.

Seth’s religious and mystical views are difficult to pin down but, in addition to conducting Christian Nature Study Mission rambles, he preached in local churches whenever asked and he also brought religious thinking into his newspaper column (he was warned not to bring his missionary work into his job as a museum curator). It is difficult for those with strong religious views to stop themselves from proselytising, but it is easy to forgive this trait in Seth, just as one can with Henry Gosse. Even if the two natural historians would disagree on fundamentals, there is no doubting the importance of religious views to each and their shared wonder of the natural world that shone through in all that they did. 

I’ve no idea what Jim’s religious views were, but that is not important to me as he loved Nature, just like Seth and Henry. We need heroes like these.

[1] https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2018/04/tempus-fugit.html 

[2] https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2021/11/outsiders-and-world-of-scientific.html

[3] https://undergroundhistories.wordpress.com/

[4] Alan Brooke (2022) Nature’s Missionary. Huddersfield, Huddersfield Local History Society

[5] https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2013/12/charles-waterton-taxidermy-and.html

[6] Jean-Jacques Rousseau (2011 [in translation by Russell Goulbourne]) Reveries of the Solitary Walker. Oxford, Oxford University Press

[7] Brian Edginton (1996) Charles Waterton: A Biography. Cambridge, The Lutterworth Press.

[8] Roger S Wotton (2020) Walking with Gosse: Natural History and Religious Conflicts. e-book.

 

I would like to thank Alan Brooke for making me aware of Seth Mosley and the excellent book that tells the in-depth story of a remarkable man.

 

 

How a great auk “flew” from Durham to Glasgow

Fifty years ago, I travelled to Durham University to be interviewed for a PhD studentship to work with Dr Lewis Davies on the blackly larvae (Simuliidae) living in streams in Upper Teesdale. I had always liked moorland and the project involved regular sampling of streams on the Pennines, to collect larvae and then analyse the life histories and production of the populations. Among the questions I was asked at the interview were whether I was prepared to work on my own on the fells and whether I had a driver’s licence, as the studentship came with a short wheelbase Land Rover that would allow access to some of the rougher tracks that I would need to use. I was positive about the first, but I hadn’t passed my driving test and would need to do so. Despite this answer, I was offered the post and accepted readily.

I then needed to take an intensive course of driving lessons that resulted in a pass in what was a very high-pressure test. It was such a relief as I was very keen to go to Durham and I had been impressed by the wonderful city and, especially, the people whom I had met in the Department of Zoology. It wasn’t only the people that impressed – so did the stuffed great auk that had a prominent position at the foot of the staircase in the Zoology Building. I knew that these birds had become extinct but had never before seen a museum specimen and I found it fascinating.

When I moved to Durham, the great auk became a “friend” as I had to pass it as I made my way upstairs to the common room, where we took coffee. Recently, I was intrigued to read about its history, and current location, in a paper by R.A.Baker  in the Archives of Natural History [1]. It is worth quoting from his paper:

The ”Durham” Great Auk had a long association with the University of Durham, from about 1834 to 1977 – a span of over 140 years.. ..Canon Thomas Gisborne (1758-1846), a Prebend at Durham and early benefactor, bought and presented the Great Auk to the new university.. .. When science was re-established at Durham in 1924, the Great Auk was transferred to the newly-built Dawson building and insured against fire and theft. J.J.O.Mason, the Head of Science at the time, recalled “When I came, I begged it for the new department (Science), remarking that some day we should have a Zoology department, which would be glad of it.”.. ..By the late 1970s the Head of the Department of Zoology at Durham, Professor David Barker, decided to sell the specimen.. ..Some disquiet was expressed after the sale was agreed. The sale went ahead on the agreement that the money raised would be placed in a fund “to make purchases to maintain the quality of the zoological specimens teaching collection”.. .. The auction of the “Durham” Great Auk took place at Sotheby’s in London on Wednesday 21 September 1977 and was sold to a Michael Pilkington for £4200.. .Mr Pilkington eventually decided to sell the Auk, and gave the museum [the Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow, where it had been on loan] the first option on it. The Glasgow Great Auk Appeal, launched the day before the 150th anniversary of its extinction, helped to raise sufficient funds for the museum to purchase the specimen for £30,000 in 1994.

It continues to be exhibited at the Kelvingrove Museum (see below), although I have not been to visit my old “friend”

What is the attraction of extinct animals? We are all familiar with the enthusiasm that many have for dinosaurs and the ammonite fossils of the Jurassic Coast, and these animals became extinct millions of years ago, overtaken by evolution and climate change. Those factors may also explain the much more recent demise of mammoths (like dinosaurs, strong favourites with the public), but very recent extinctions, like that of the great auk and some other flightless birds, were the result of human exploitation. We know that Ole Worm (1588-1654) had a live specimen from the Faroe Islands that he fed on herrings and he also had at least one stuffed great auk in his private museum [2]. With the rise of interest by collectors in rarities, and with little defence against humans, great auks didn’t stand a chance, having already been taken as food and for their feathers [3,4]. Perhaps our fascination with them results from a sense of loss and a recognition that we have been responsible for their being wiped out - and knowing that we will never see one alive? 

It is all a long way from collecting blackfly larvae in Upper Teesdale, but the Durham great auk certainly had, and continues to have, a strong appeal for me. I think it is a pity that it was sold (at what appears a knockdown price), but good to know it “lives on” in Glasgow.

[1] R.A.Baker (1999) Going, going, gone – the “Durham” Great Auk. Archives of Natural History 26:113-119.

[2] A.V.DeLozoya, D.G.García and J.Parish (2016) A great auk for the Sun King. Archives of Natural History 43:41-56.

[3] W.R.P.Bourne (1993) The story of the Great Auk Pinguinis impennis. Archives of Natural History 20: 257-278.

[4] T.R.Birkhead (1994) How collectors killed… New Scientist Issue 1227 May 28th 1994.

Our family's box of curios

I mentioned our family's box of curios - a mini "cabinet of curiosities" - in an earlier blog post [1]. The objects in the box fascinated me as a child and provided a connection to exotic parts of the World, far removed from my insular life, but the only contents I could recall were a tiger's claw and some hairs from a giraffe's tail. That may have been because, even as a young child, I had a fascination with Natural History.

Last Wednesday, I visited Torquay Museum to give a talk about Philip Henry Gosse and during the previous evening I was able to visit my brother David who still lives in Paignton, our home town. When reading the blog post [1], he had remembered the box of curios and was sure that it had been stored in the loft of his house after we emptied the contents of our family home during the clear-out after my father died nearly fifty years ago. Why the box was selected to be saved when much else was thrown out was not clear to either of us, but much searching in the loft of David's house didn't turn it up and we left it at that. Then, by looking in another place, the box was found and David was able to show it to me last week. Its contents are shown below.

 

There was the tiger claw and a label mentioning the hair from a giraffe's tail (I'm sure that there were at least three, all having now disappeared). The other curios were a pipe, two combs, two wooden spoons and a ring with plastic "charms" attached by woven threads. The origins of all the artefacts remain a mystery, but it was good to know that most of the contents of the box of curios were still there. When I was very young, they were my introduction to an interest in the fascinating objects found in Museums and similar collections.

The items are shown in more detail below (photographs by David Wotton) – can anyone provide information on these artefacts?

[1] http://www.rwotton.blogspot.com/2015/07/two-wonderful-museums-and-mention-of.html