The Curious Mister Catesby

At the start of this year, I read “Writings and Drawings” by John James Audubon, so I find it fitting to end the year with another excellent collection related to a pioneering naturalist in North America: Mark Catesby. Very little is known about the man himself, but he could have been a jolly good fellow. At the least, he was an excellent scientist and artist, ahead of his time in many ways, in both disciplines. Dedicated to accuracy and quality, his accomplishments are incredible even by today’s standards. “The Curious Mister Catesby,” though a compilation from various talented contributors, tells a linear and complete story. This unique presentation of his chronology, before, after and during his times results in an even, almost symmetrical timeline, unlike a straightforward biography. This is a large book, but one well worth digging into, getting better and better as you go along. It is about the size of a typical textbook, but with a pleasant feel and durable pages that stay open for the reader. Its beautiful design and fine historical research make this a landmark book and a huge contribution to the body of natural history's history.

Catesby’s (1683-1749) work is not only significant for establishing some of the first records of plants and animals in the southeastern (now) United States; his observations also serve as a sort of time capsule for ecology. From what he saw and recorded, some species are now extinct or extirpated, or distributed differently, and there are some notable exclusions of common or interesting species. The old writing and spelling makes some parts hard to read, but the contributors do a great job taking the scant extant evidence on this man and writing theses that have been expertly edited into a whole story.

I found it a little surprising that many of his drawings were based on others', but he was a naturalist and could recognize when a better representation could serve as a guide. One notable difference from Audubon is that he used mostly live specimens (that is, fewer dead specimens), so having other works to compare with makes sense. You have to remember that there were far fewer scientifically reliable depictions of organisms readily available in those days, so any kind of reference would be helpful. Another cool fact is that for fishes, he often used multiple catches, since the colors fade fast.

The fact that these works are so well preserved is in itself amazing. The artists had to be careful about how to prepare and use materials. Catesby’s biggest achievement was his “The natural history of Carolina, Florida and the Bahama islands”. That book, by the way, was published in multiple volumes, uncommon and innovative at the time. It would have been an expensive book in its entirety, so not many copies were made, yet still a respectable quantity given its respected quality. One memorable source of praise came from Secretary of the Royal Society (of which Catesby was a Fellow) Cromwell Mortimer (gotta love that name), who praised this book as “the most magnificent Work I know of, since the Art of Printing has been discover’d.”

The process of editing and updating is thus fascinating, based on its readers (or, subscribers) and the correction or failure to correct certain details. A neat example is the color of a bird's legs, and since Catesby didn't color every copied plate himself, a colorist even reflected the uncorrected error in one edition. One thing that bothered me is that the plates don't identify every organism included; however, that may just be the way they appeared originally. For as great as he was, I get a good chuckle every time I see his “Cat Fish,” his “least accurate fish illustration”. To be fair, it was drawn from memory.

Another way in which he was ahead of his time is seen in a paper for the Royal Society, "Of birds of passage" one of the earliest hypotheses on bird migration. The example with the most conjecture and debate, including from Gilbert White (of “The Natural History of Selborne”) pertained to swallows and swifts, and whether they persist in a torpor under water in the winter, or hide in any form of small cavern above ground, or if they migrate. And, do all birds of this kind behave the same way, or do these ideas apply to some in different ways? Bobolinks, which Catesby called “rice birds” for their appetite for that food plant, also lent some weight to his theory, as their occurrence is in time with food availability. One contributor concludes that Catesby was “the well-placed naturalist of the times.”

Carl Linnaeus cited Catesby’s work, especially in the Swede's specialty, botany. Although he did not possess a copy of “The natural history…,” he might have borrowed a copy from his queen, one of Catesby’s benefactors. Catesby, also foremost a botanist, introduced live specimens of plants to England, and there is some detective work regarding how Magnolia grandiflora got there and when and by whom. The introduction of Acer saccharinum is also convoluted. Included among his written natural histories are some human uses of plants, identified as economic botany and ethnobotany; for example, making candles from wax myrtle berries. Where Catesby fits in with the long line of naturalists is well discussed here, and some sympathetic side-by-side comparisons are made with more modern artists, such as Margaret Mee.

I recognized Catesby’s artwork from note cards from a trip to Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia many years ago. I knew nothing about this remarkable person, and am glad this book was my introduction. There is no known portrait of Mark Catesby, but I wonder if the ornamental headpiece depicting an American Indian and tools, included in “The natural history…” might be in part a self-portrait.  With nothing else to go on, we could choose to picture the man as such.

Note: a copy of this title was generously provided by the University of Georgia Press in exchange for an honest review.