Whales on the Road

This post is a departure from my usual blogs about rocks, minerals, pigments and err … stamps. It is about dead whales touring the country on the back of lorries. There are not many things these days that provide pretty much no hits when Googled, but this subject seems to be one of them. You may well be asking why I would be Googling ‘Whales’ ‘Lorry’ ‘Supermarket Car Park’. Here is the answer.

I was talking to my colleague Jack Ashby at the UCL Grant Museum of Zoology about their upcoming #WhaleWeekender extravaganza, wherein the skeleton of an 8 m long northern bottle-nosed whale will be assembled for the first time since the 1940s. You can read more about this in Jack’s blog here. The whale in question had toured the country before ending up, disarticulated in the Grant Museum. I told Jack that I remembered seeing a whale in the back of a truck when I was a kid in Salford in the early 1970s. Jack looked at me like I had said 1870s. On reflection there is certainly a circus side-show, freak-show element to this experience. Until speaking to Jack, I have not thought about this for years.

I went home and got onto Google, expecting to find photos, local newspaper articles etc., but nothing came up. However I did discover two illuminating pieces about the phenomenon that was whale tours, one in the Guardian and another from the BBC. Both remark that these events went largely unreported, although it seems that they were not uncommon between the 1950s and early 1970s. The touring whales were obtained from Norwegian whalers and were given imaginative names such as ‘Jonah’, ‘Hercules’ and ‘Goliath’, although one was called ‘Eric’.

This picture from the BBC & Pathé shows a whale on tour, probably in the 1960s, with body parts helpfully labelled. Note the instrument of death, a harpoon, at lower right. This was almost certainly taken in the north of England. Look at that roofline. Look at those kids.

The BBC article makes statements such as ‘In an era of limited television, staring at a dead whale was seen as a good pastime’ and ‘Parents took their toddlers to see the carcasses’. Yup. That was me.

I did find some memories via social media, from people of my generation living in my home town of Walkden in Greater Manchester. Many comments were along the lines of ‘Does anyone remember the whale in Walkden? Or am I imagining it?’ The following comments showed that some did remember, many didn’t, but no one had any photos. There seems to be very little evidence that this actually happened. However someone did mention they had seen a mammoth and had a picture to prove it … but that is another story.

For those of us born in the second half of the twentieth century, one is often conscious that one’s memories are influenced by images (so now I am beginning to remember that I may have seen the mammoth too …) but I can safely say that this is not the case with the Walkden whale. This is what I remember. I was very young at the time, probably between 5 and 7 years old, which would put this event at between 1972-1974. My dad had heard about this whale and said ‘shall we go and have a look at it?’ So off we went to Scan car park where the whale truck was pulled up. Scan was a hypermarket, the first one in our area and it was located just off Manchester Road in Walkden (it is now a branch of Tesco). I remember it was rainy and misty. It could have been Winter, it could have just been Salford. There were not many people there. I suppose my Dad paid someone.

And there it was in the back of a lorry with the sides let down. A whale, huge and black, maybe 10 or more metres long. It was a big truck. It didn’t look real, it looked like it was made of a hard, black plastic. I asked my Dad if it was real (whilst keeping tight hold of his hand) and he replied ‘Oh yes, of course it is’. I don’t have any memory of smell (but I think that’s just me, I don’t have any memories of smell at all). In retrospect I suspect it was coated with tar or something. I have no idea what species of whale it was. All I really remember was its eye. I just remember staring at its eye. I imagined whales to have big eyes but this was small and beady, surrounded by folds of flesh. I seem to remember the lorry was blue. We looked at it for around ten minutes and then left. I haven’t really thought of it since. My Dad was a very keen photographer and in retrospect I am astonished he did not bring his camera and take a photo. I don’t have any memories of a photo, but perhaps I should scour my Dad’s slides and negatives. You never know.

Sadly my Dad died ten years ago. I phoned my Mum, wondering if I could extract any further information, and this is how the conversation went

Me: Do you remember Dad and me going to see the whale?

Mum: In Wales?

Me: No, in Scan.

Mum: In Wales??

Me: No, in Walkden, a whale – not Wales

This went on for a while, alliteratively, but sadly Mum had neither recollection of my Dad and me going to see it, nor any memory of a photo recording the event (NB My Mum now lives in Wales). I am beginning to wonder if I imagined this too – were it not for the fact that it is the only non-skeletal whale that I had ever seen until the 1990s and I can see its dead eye in my mind now.

[NB: The whale I saw in the 1990s was a dead, beached whale on the island of Mull. I don’t remember how that smelled either, but it must have been shocking].

I would love to hear from anyone who does remember the Walkden whale, but I am also interested to hear from anyone else who remembers other whale tours, despite them being something that can be gladly consigned to history. #WhaleMemories

 

 

Barnicoat, B., 2015, The mystery of Jonah, the giant whale who toured the UK in the 1950s., The Guardian, Wednesday 8^th July.

Bell, B., 2016, When dead whales went on tour., BBC News Online, 1^st May. 

Photograph of a whale’s eye is from http://www.whalesforever.com/whale-senses-sight.html

 

Turacine, Hartlaub’s Turaco and the UCL Grant Museum of Zoology

Further to my recent post on turacine, a pigment extracted only from the feathers of 17 species of turaco, a South African bird, I though I’d check to see if they had any turacos (or their remains) in the treasure trove that is UCL’s Grant Museum of Zoology. They did! Just two feather’s from Hartlaub’s Turaco (Taurcao hartlaubi; catalogue number NON768). There is also a disarticulated skeleton of Buffon’s Turaco (Tauraco Corythaix buffonii; catalogue number 1155). My interest in turacine began when I had read that it was postulated as a potential artists’ pigment by T. W. Salter, in his update of George Field’s “Chromatography”, published in 1869. You can read more about the history of this pigment in my previous post on this blog Turacine: the most unlikely of pigments never to be used by artists

I had very much hoped that the Grant’s feathers may have been donated to the museum by Professor Claude Rimington, once the world’s leading researcher on porphyrins, including turacine, and former professor at what is now UCL’s Medical School. However, the donor is unknown for cat. no. NON768. The feathers were probably given by London Zoo; the reasoning behind this is that some flamingo feathers, with a label in the same handwriting, are clearly labelled as being donated by the Zoological Society of London.

Turacine is a rare pigment and only secreted by turacos in their red plumage. Hartlaub’s Turaco has predominantly blue plumage, with purplish-red pinion feathers on the wings, and luckily it is two of the latter that are in the collection. They were rather old and a bit battered, but nevertheless, they were the real thing which means that I have now actually seen turacin, that rarest of pigments in, as it were, the flesh!

 

I am very grateful to Jack Ashby, Manager of the Grant Museum, for letting me look at the feathers. I also somehow managed to accidentally adopt a pangolin during my visit.

UCL Grant Museum of Zoology: http://www.ucl.ac.uk/museums/zoology

Hartlaub’s Turaco; Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hartlaub’s_turaco

©Ruth Siddall 2015