There were two northern treeshrews in a glass-fronted cage in the National Museum in Washington, DC. The female scampered along a tangle of branches, up, down, over, under, back, up, over, down, over, down, etc.
I was busy myself, leaning on a wall and sneering at the sign. It identified the treeshrews and gave the remarkable fact that their milk is 25% fat, whereas human milk is only 4% fat – but it didn't say why. It said nothing of the amazing “absentee maternal system” (see 4/23/08 post). Since the babies only get one fast shot of milk every other day, there has to be enough fat in it to last them. Why didn't the sign mention that?
The slightly larger male treeshrew suddenly ran to the female. She waited as he sniffed urgently under her tail, and braced herself in place as he initiated a quick, vigorous sex act. Then she raced off to do some more scampering. The male scampered more slowly to another branch, sat, and looked around.
People passed by, glanced at the two treeshrews in the cage, said “rats” or “squirrels” and passed on. Occasionally someone read the sign and said “northern treeshrews.”
The male treeshrew focused on the female, scampered to her, sniffed, and initiated another speedy mating. As soon as it was over, the female dashed away again. The male would go sit on a branch until he once again found the female irresistible. In ten minutes, they mated eight times. One passing family glanced at the treeshrews, noticed the activity, and observed with interest until, apparently, it suddenly seemed to the mother that this might be unsuitable for her son (a kid of 8 or 9). “Rafael!* Come!” she said sharply, pushing the stroller to the next cage. (*I have changed this kid's name to protect the family and out of sheer mockery.)
Another woman with a stroller came by. She spotted the scandal, and sang fondly to her child, “Babies! There's gonna be babies! Baby chipmunks!”
Finally, the male treeshrew climbed to a high branch and lay down along it in a pose of utter exhaustion. The female, still energetic, did some scampering, glanced at the male, and hurtled up to the branch where he lay. She nestled up behind, put her front paws around him, and lay there holding him. There the two remained, quite still.
If you walked by and saw them then, it would have been a dull sight.
Photo: Guérin Nicolas
omg, spooning tree shrews. so cuuuuuuuute!
Posted by: marjorie | September 03, 2009 at 09:30 AM
Why are people in museums compelled to read signs aloud? Or, similarly, announce aloud the very obvious thing they're looking at?
"Rhinocerous. Hey, Miriam, see that rhinocerous?"
Posted by: Scott Underwood | September 05, 2009 at 03:52 PM
I don't know, but it's really true.
Maybe because museums and zoos are thought to be Educational For the Kids and we read to kids? Maybe because we are subconsciously resentful that we know so little about birds and beasts that we feel compelled to show that at least we can read? Maybe because we, hmmm, are filled with a vague desire to communicate when we behold these creatures, and we displace that into conversation with the exhibit by means of reading?
Got me.
Posted by: Susan McCarthy | September 05, 2009 at 09:22 PM
I don't think your mockery was mockerous enough. Prudish mammals.
Posted by: David Gans | September 12, 2009 at 05:03 PM
Not mockerous enough? But maybe it was my fault. Not everyone can do the "when a daddy and mommy treeshrew love each other very much..." conversation in public, and I was standing around in what may have been a visibly negative manner. How could they know that my dark thoughts had to do with inadequate signage?
Posted by: Susan McCarthy | September 14, 2009 at 11:40 AM