
There is a lovely
piece in the City Room column of the New York Times today that I would like to direct your attention to. This regards the gorilla diorama at the American Museum of Natural History. A curator, Stephen Quinn, recently visited the exact spot in the Congo which is depicted in that diorama, built in the early 20th century.
What isn't mentioned in the Times' piece is the fact that (at least according to Peter Capstick) this diorama also happens to depict the exact spot where Carl Akeley was buried after dying of a fever during his final expedition to Africa.
Carl Akeley was an amazing man. He is best remembered as the father of modern taxidermy, but he was also an accomplished naturalist and inventor. Not for nothing was the 'Roosevelt African Hall' renamed the 'Akeley African Hall.' When Teddy Roosevelt gets bumped aside for someone then you'd better believe that it was someone worth paying attention to.
I first became aware of Akeley when I read Peter Capstick's 'Death in A Lonely Land,' which is not Capstick's best book but is still very good. You can find whatever Google Books lets you see of
the chapter on Akeley here. This is a guy who once killed a leopard with his bare hands, invented shotcrete, wrote a bunch of good books, inspired the founding of the first national park in Africa, and was probably the world's first advocate for the protection of gorillas. He did all of this and more with only three years of formal schooling.
I'm not even sure whether Akeley's grave remains marked. In 1963, George B. Schaller visited the site. Writing of the visit in his book, 'The Year of the Gorilla' he observed: "The Kabara meadow was little changed. The marker on Carl Akeley's grave was buckled and shattered, apparently by the ponderous foot of an elephant."
Assuming that Akeley's marker was not repaired or maintained since that time, I suppose that Stephen Quinn of the American Museum might very well have been standing right on top of it without knowing what was under him.
Africa is filled with the graves, marked and otherwise, of the various intrepid adventurers who met their ends there. Reading about some of the things that Akeley got into, like being gored by an elephant and left for dead by his porters, gives me the overwhelming sense that nothing I have done thus far as a hunter, conservationist or adventurer really amounts to a hill of beans. Which it really doesn't, compared with his ilk. The fact that he died of something so undramatic as a fever seems to undersell the astounding risks that this man took for his work as a naturalist and conservationist.
[This photo is, I believe, in the public domain. He looks very sour here, but you would look sour as well if you had gotten your arm chewed to shreds by a leopard and had an elephant tusk you straight through the torso and on into the ground.]