"SPECK"—THE KANGAROO RAT

NOTES FOR PHOTOGRAPHERS FEATURING THE LIFE OF "SPECK," THE KANGAROO RAT

To photograph Speck digging in a given spot took a considerable amount of night observation. There is always an acute problem of focus in close-up photography, especially when the cameramust be pre-focused and operated by remote. With electronicflash action can be stopped, but exposure must be calculated bymeasuring the distance between light source to subject, thuscomplicating things further. When I discovered Speck wanted tostart a new burrow in this precise spot, I set up camera and lights.Every time Speck dug enough dirt for a couple of pictures Ifilled his new hole almost full again. His boundless energy insurmounting this obstacle enabled me to get several shots of himat work. All were taken by remote control from thirty feet awav.A battery-powered spotlight illuminated the setup while theshutter went off. 34x44 Speed Graphic, Ektachrome film, dualelectronic flash, 1000th of a sec. at f.16.Catching Speck standing at his burrow entrance took thesame camera technique, pre-focusing on a given spot, and settingup the electronic flash. Measuring the distance from where thesubject will be to the center of the light's reflector, of course,governs the f stop, while the duration of the flash becomes theaffective shutter speed. To make sure Speck appeared at thisentrance rather than at one of the five other entryways in hismound, I merely packed his other holes with dirt. After sometime he appeared at this hole. A few seeds insured his staying inthe same plane of focus for a number of shots. Taken by remotecontrol and dual electronic flash, 34x44 Speed Graphic,Ektachrome film, roooth of a sec. at f.16.

After considerable experimenting with cutaways, and vivariums,I decided the best way to make Speck's portrait undergroundwas to slice through his mound, insert a glass panel and then diga hole on the other side of the glass so that the camera wouldbe on a level with his den or bedchamber. But I did not reckonwith Speck's determined digging capabilities. At first the foreignmaterial in the middle of his domain caused Speck to fill in all theadjacent tunnels. Then the strain of the new dirt pushing againstthe glass caused it to break. So, I just let Speck get accustomed tothe glass until he was not afraid to dig against it again. Then 1inserted a sheet of plexiglass, and carefully pulled out the glass.This did the trick. But another problem arose, that of dust lodgingagainst the surface of the plexiglass and causing the image to besomewhat "hazy." The only solution was to carefully pull out theplexiglass, clean it after every two or three exposures, then slipit into place. Electronic flash reflectors are placed about 45 de-grees so that no reflections are picked up by the camera. 34x44Speed Graphic, Ektachrome film, dual electronic flash, 1000thof a sec. at f.11.

One of Speck's most peculiar habits is his absolute hostilityto other members of his clan. Should he and another rat meetwhile foraging, they vigorously attack one another by kicking andslashing with their powerful hind feet. Action is so fast it isdifficult to follow but with electronic flash their onslaught re-sults in spectacular frozen action, as these series of hi-speed photo-graphs show. Tails play a great part in maneuverability by en-abling the rat to quickly change his body balance. Applying theirtail as a fulcrum, they are able to position their feet for tellingblows. This action took place when neighboring rats discovereda seed trail leading from their respective mounds to a pile of seedsused for bait. Here, again, the plexiglass came in handy. It pre-vented the rats from moving too far forward while bushes inthe background helped to keep them from running too far back,during their agile battles. 3% x44 Speed Graphic, Ektachromefilm, dual electronic flash, 1000th of a sec. at f.16.tinctively marked, and one of the largest in size.

Similar in coloration, these rodents are partial tothe desert's tawny hues, ranging from light fawn toburnt sienna. Chest and under parts remain a creamywhite.

Sitting erect on huge hind feet, which is his usualposture, Speck stands about five inches. In this stance,or when bouncing along in his regular gait, tiny forefeet are never used, but kept clasped together in a piousmanner under his chin. During a jump, he lengthens outto a little more than seven inches, trailing a nine inch,white tufted tail.

Distributed throughout Southwest semi-desert anddesert country, kangaroo rats require only that there besuitable alluvial soil in which to burrow, and that therebe a minimum amount of rainfall, with an arid, if not hot,dry climate. Diet consists wholly of dried seeds.

Speck and his tribe live a life of paradoxes.

They thrive in the hottest portion of North America,yet they cannot tolerate an excessive amount of heat.

Fastidious as head waiters in soup and fish, theserodents take a bath on the slightest provocation, yetnever use water.

For desert existence, practically all beings drinkwater in double rations, yet he and his relatives gowithout a drop. Depending upon no one, Speck packshis own survival kit.

Considering size, he is the best track and field athletein the animal kingdom. By manipulating his long tailhe can easily outperform any Olympic star.

Large hind feet, so much resembling his namesake,the kangaroo, are exclusively developed for desert travel.Each foot is equipped for fast traction in sand.

Through eons of time he has evolved a peculiarmethod of signalling. It is a communication soundingsomewhat like bongo drums.

His novel attributes do not stop here. Desert livinghas caused Speck to become a proficient air conditioningengineer.

Not one to be easily outwitted, he designs and usesspecial escape hatches in event he should be pursuedinto his burrow by a predator.

These are an extraordinary array of accomplishments for a creature so small. All hinge vitally upon eachother. Without any one of these specializations he mightbe just another fossilized skeleton found in a museumcase, with the legend "failed to develop with environmental changes."

Speck's day, or I should say night, since he is entirely nocturnal, begins at evening. When light ceasesto filter down through the burrows, he proceeds in littlehops from his bed chamber, through tunnels, and into thecooling dusk.

While shuffling along in ludicrous jumps, hisluminous black eyes scan every bit of cover. Keen andquick to detect movement in nearby brush, they guidehim, though starlight may be the only means of illumination. Due to their position, well back on either side ofthe head, and peculiar, prominent bulge, his vision canencompass 360 degrees. While each eye itself can cover more than 180 de-grees, it is amusing to know that his one blind spot isunder his nose. He cannot see what he eats. However,sensitive sensory perception of forefeet, nose and tonguemore than make up for this inconvenience.

On unfamiliar foraging grounds, Speck advancesgingerly in short, mincing hops, four or five in a series.Quickly sitting erect to peer into the shroud of darkness,he is off again. Should the least movement or rustle ofleaves disturb him he bounds skyward a foot or more. If not, he springs higher to land in back, or to either side of his position from a moment before. As can be imagined, predators find it extremely difficult to judge such unconventional rebounds. For, here he was, sod there he is, now he should be, and there he won't be. It may seem like a game, but every bounce is another stake on life.

Sideward and backward jumps are accomplished by swinging his long tail as a counterbalance. This tufted rudder also permits him to face in any direction on alighting and be ready for instant take-off. While the enemy paws about for this elusive jackin-the-box, Speck has oriented himself so that at the right moment he can turn on his stretch pace and hurtle straight away to his barrow. Thus, Speck cheats his host of foes out of their tidbit through his lightning-like footwork and sculling tail.

Not only is his tail used for balance, and for directional change in erratic flight, but it is an utmost neces sity to negotiate lengthy and speedy vaults. Just as an arrow needs fletching feathers to make it go true, so Speck needs his tail.

And, like an arrow, the end of his tail also has its peculiar fletching, made of long hair forming a little brush. It is rifling in a sense, and causes his tail to windmill, describing a little circle to keep his flying body pointed straight.

Speck looks like a toy hurtling through space with a propeller in the rear. On each landing, hind feet are tacked into position to recall again. Needless to say, so ten feet per vault quite a bit of ground can be covered.

On his special trails which are more or less worn, narrow pathways leading from the mound to foraging areas, Speck accelerates with such speed that he seems more like a rocket. To sit alongside the trail in the dark when this furred projectile scoots by is a memorable experience. He can't be seen, only heard flying past as his bounding soles dig into the earth. In a few minutes, scattered sand rattling against adjacent brush announces Speck's dashing return.

During these moments, unique sandshoes provide him with instant traction in loose soil. Many stiff hairs grow between his toes, which when spread, become a network similar to snowshoes. These padded hind feet enable him to run and jump in the sand with utmost ease and without loss of speed. Maneuverability may spare his life a dozen times during the night. Strong rear feet are primary means of defense, that of jumping and bounding away to elude enemies. But Speck may also use them to blast a shower of sand and dirt at an unfamiliar object, or at the eyes of any intruder who may be sniffing at his burrow.

Such a deluge of flying of flying grit is enough to catch most predators off guard and give away their intent. Stinging sand in one's eyes is a potent attack in itself. Many a fox has passed up his chances for a meal to scheme again while blinking sway bits of dirt.

Speck employs his hind feet, too, for signalling by thumping with either foot rapidly upon the ground, or upon his tunnel floors. This drumming is usually intended to indicate his own territory, a challenge to other rats, male or female, that they are trespassing.. Should a strange noise happen to penetrate into his burrow, he also vents his displeasure by repeating the muffled beat.

Thus, this instinctive action results in a warming system. Nearby rats interpret the signal as danger and bound @way.

With a sounding board effect caused by the tunnels, vibrations may carry through the ground starting the inhabitant in the next mound, mound, perhaps twenty feet away. Instantly, the drumming is repeated.

Another intriguing angle concerns the possibility that his drumming may be applied in a manner similar to sonar. In my observations, I have noted that a slap of the hand upon their mound results in answering thumping. By pressing one's ear to the entrance, it is easy to determine this drumming moves from various points within the mound. Perhaps the shifting from chamber to chamber enables Speck to get some insight about his interloper through returning vibrations.

This thumping is a complex arrangement of social protection, and yet, yet, it is amazing to know that Speck actually is hostile toward his fellows. Except for a few weeks mating season, Speck tolerates no relatives or even clandestine ladies in his apartments. Two rats may live for a short time in a large mound, but they will throw up dirt partitions within their diggings to avoid each other. Sooner or later, one becomes an evicted tenant and must seek other quarters.

His hostility is obvious. Speck, who exists in such a harsh climate, must provide for himself, sometimes from meagre and decreasing food supplies. He has become a miser, a hoarder of the worst sort. rt. Every bit of food, every tiny seed he finds is tucked into his check pouches and later stored away.

Located on each side of the mouth, these pouches are skin sacks lined with fine, silken fur. Smooth lining makes each pocket quick to fill and permits easy ejection of food. It also eliminates the possibility of foreign matter lodging there to cause sores or infection. Food is jammed: into sach pouch by tongue or forepaws, like a child who finds more discreet manners too slow. Speck's grocery bags hold a considerable amount, enough to fillthe palm of your hand.He never takes time to eat on his nightly excur-sions. Each bit of provender is quickly chucked into his pockets until Speck looks like he may be suffering from double case of mumps. When so full that he cannot possibly squeeze in another seed, he scampers home to disgorge his cargo in special pantries built within his barrow. He may sample a morsel or two then, bat more than likely be is back to glean every last bit of the newly found windfall.

When harvesting, his dainty forelegs are a distinct advantage. Paws work faster than a master at the "old shell game." Hand over hand, he bends the grass stems down, snips off the head, and deftly staffs the whole beard into his market basket.Speck often utilizes these hand-like forefeet to sift adroitly through sand lying under desert herbs for fallen seeds. With each foot equipped with fine, long claws, he rakes at a startling pace, flinging soil right and left. Should he discover other rats gathering seeds nearby, his greedy habits compel him to cran everything that he can hastily gather into a newly dug hole a short dis-tance away. Pushing the food out of his pouches, he kicks a little sand over the cache and bests it back for more. When leisure permits a more calculating view, he transfers the hidden treasure to his food locker. Whether it's depression worries or inflation fear, Speck always has his savings in seeds near at hand.

Foods Food stealing from his pantry creates Speck's worst nightmare. It conjures up a spectre of heinous propor-tions to him, and, so, he constantly keeps guard against other rodents as well as his own neighbors. Of course, he is not above "high grading" himself. Many skirmishes result from thievery between Speck and his clan.

These forays are often fought in vicious onslaughts in which hind feet are prime weapons. Combatants size each other up much as boxers do before throwing gloves. They push and claw with their forepaws in preliminary action, then leap into the air and strike out with power-ful hind legs.

Kicking and slashing, flying bodies churn through space, attacking from any quarter. Tails gyrate furiously, Hailing in the void for leverage to provide the gladiators with whiplash cornering. In close contact, teeth inflict considerable damage by nipping sway bits of fur. Duels end as abruptly as they begin, and both rats rush frantically for their respective mounds.

If fighting could be classed as his vice, cleanliness, surely, is one of Speck's virtues. He simply cannot stand to have foreign matter in his fur. To cleanse himself he locates a bit of fine sand. Here, he takes time for his only luxury, rolling and dusting. Fine sand acts as a comb, conditioning and eliminating his peelage of excessive oil which is exuded from a gland near the base of the tail. By wallowing in his gritty tub, he keeps his cost fluffy and immaculate.

Speck's courtship is no dreamy-eyed affair, and may even start off with a few domestic disturbances which seem to be settled amicably only by bettling feet. During this season Speck increases his drumming upon any provocation. His back foot oscillates so rapidly that it becomes a blur. In some peculiar fashion this rhythmical beat holds an entrancing fascination for the female, though both sexes make use of the signal.

Perplexed and goaded by springtime's irresistible emotions, Speck finds himself in a vexing position. He must be constantly on guard about his own diggings for poachers, and he is driven ceaselessly to search out a mate.

It is a harassing season, indeed. Constantly darting to and fro on his gallant mission missions, he has litle time for leisure or even for gathering seeds.

Young are usually born in May and June with two or three being an average litter. Speck's spouse suckles her youngsters for several weeks. The babies are naked at birth, and angry red in color. Almost transparent skin covers their large, protruding eyes. In three weeks or so, bodies are well furred. Their eyes open after two weeks.

Unlike some mammals, the juvenile markings are identical with the adults. Each is a tiny edition of his parents. For the most part, female and young live from the provender which she has been storing away. In five to six weeks youngsters peek out from their burrow, but do not venture more than a few inches from the entrance.

By nine or ten weeks, their mother, who has watched over them so carefully, begins to lose interest in her progeny. It is touching and sad to see the youngsters playing at the burrow when another rat makes a raid.

Kicked and sent tumbling aside, they soon discover it is time to begin their own homes. These diggings are usually begun under roots of a plant. The new hole is constantly enlarged and lengthened. Chambers are dug until all vegetation ceases to grow over the burrow. Dirt is continually scooped out and piled up until the characteristic mound is formed. Three, or perhaps four feet mark the depth of the tunnels.

Speck digs with his forefeet. Each foot revolves so fast that it appears to be a blade of a fan. When enough dirt has been loosened, he straddles the pile and heaves it away in mighty blasts with his back feet. If in a tunnel, the dirt is removed by pushing it forward with his breast and neck to the entrance. Turning about, he hurls it aside in the same manner. His padded soles help immeasurably, acting as triggered scoop shovels.

Since livestock, predators, cloudbursts, and other natural catastrophes collapse, dig out and flood their communities, constant remodeling, additions, partitions and new excavations are necessary. After three or four years, the mound reaches up to one and a half feet in height and may be as much as twelve or fifteen feet across. Shaped like an overturned oatmeal bowl, the mound will usually have three to six entrances, each descending at about a 30 degree angle.

In the comparative safety of his castle, Speck can relax. Home is a labyrinth of organized passages at various levels. There are usually several storerooms where prized seeds are garnered. Some pantries may hold as much as a two pound coffee can. Bed chambers are situated deepest to lessen the effects of desert heat. Chewed and shredded grasses equalling in softness the finest down line his nest. Many tunnels are dug with blind corners and dead ends, excavated purposely to mislead.

Because Speck hops upright, main entrances are much bigger than need be, and become an invitation to curious investigation by predators. His arch enemy, the little desert fox, can enlarge them quite easily, though it is impossible even for this sly huntsman to dig out all the remaining burrows.

However, if Speck should find himself trapped, he has only to use his ingeniously devised safety escape hatches. These are small holes, just big enough to let Speck through from the larger passageways to the ground surface. Each is plugged with two or three inches of loose dirt. Without careful inspection they may be overlooked.

When pressed by a foe, Speck heads for the escape hatch, literally exploding through the hole. Showering dirt in all directions, he blithely leaps away.

Snakes present a distressing problem when they enter the mound. If kicking sand at its head fails to deter the snake, the emergency calls for a barricade in the burrow, which Speck throws up to block off the intruder. Even then, Speck takes time to thump, which leads me to believe that resonance changes in echoes reveal to Speck whether the intruder is in this or that tunnel.

By forming new barriers, he may cause the snake to be sealed in a tomb. Actually, it isn't a farsighted plan to eliminate an enemy, but rather expediency of the moment. Thus, both hunter and hunted may live side by side for a period of time. Since Speck finds it difficult To divorce himself from his precious hoard of food, a stalemate is reached until the snake dies, or escapes, or until Speck makes a fatal mistake. It is far from the popular conception of animal truces, when all live together in communital bliss.

If the diggings are new and do not provide enough tunnels for safety, Speck just pulls up stakes and strikes out for a new homestead.

By continually excavating, he has become an expert in tempering his castle against desert heat. When it does become intolerably hot, Speck pushes dirt from his tunnels to plug the entrance leading to his sleeping quarters.

This blocks off the desiccating air and raises the humidity. Causing so much discomfort to us, humidity actually keeps Speck comfortable. Inhaling moistureladen air is the same for him as drinking water for us.

Outside temperatures may soar to well over 100 degrees in summer, but Speck's domicile remains on the average a cool 75-90 degrees.

Speck evades the heat by other means too. He has less perspiration glands than other mammals. Coupled with this, body perspiration is kept at a low level since he is always sound asleep during the hot, daytime hours.

Speck does lose moisture through his respiratory tract, but even here his slender nose is equipped to keep this loss at a minimum. While he exhales, water vapor is condensed upon the somewhat cooler membranes lining these long nose passageways. Some moisture is left to be absorbed back into the body.

Another important factor, which may be overlooked, concerns relative humidity. In the desert it is usually low, but whatever the percent, it is taken up by his dry food and passed on to Speck as an additional bonus of pre-formed moisture.

Even with such marvelous adaptability, he must make up a water deficit. Give or take a bit, the water content of any mammal is 65 percent of body weight. Even though kangaroo rats are desert creatures, they are no exceptions to this rule, nor do they have any more tolerance to body tissue desiccation.

In rebuttal, you say, he gets water by eating green foods. Other desert creatures, it is true, do resort to substituting cactus pads, or some offering containing moisture.

But Speck only eats dried seeds and never touches succulent foods. Neither does he store water for future use. It's fantastic, but Speck does not actually need to drink at all.

Since he does not drink, and still thrives in conditions where another animal would soon perish, he has long been considered a biological oddity. The answer, to a great extent, lies in a twofold physiological adjustment, a highly efficient kidney and the digestion of his food through a complicated arrangement of body chemistry. This has been proved by experiments in the laboratory.

Here, rats were fed a diet of entirely dried barley. These control animals retained their same body weight as well as their same body water content after many weeks in simulated desert climate.

Simply stated, it is the oxidation of their food which forms water. From every ounce of seeds eaten, they extract a certain amount of moisture. The amount of water formed by metabolism will depend upon hydrogen content of the food. Dry seeds, containing carbohydrates produce more oxidation water than a diet consisting of protein foods.

The other amazing physiological difference is their extraordinary kidney. Astonishingly, this organ can contain as much as 24 percent urea, whereas in man, six percent is the limit. Consequently, these animals need only a fourth as much water as man to eliminate a given amount. Elimination of salts is just as incredible, up to two times the amount contained in sea water.

Such facts indicate kangaroo rats could drink sea water and still receive a net water gain. Ordinarily, sea water dehydrates a man or animal as the system tries to rid itself of the high salt content.

In this experiment, the rats were fed soy beans. Because of the high protein food they could not produce enough body water and were finally induced to drink the sea water given them. The animals not only excreted the salt from the sea water, but also the overabundance of urea and still maintained their own water balance.

Kangaroo rats are the only terrestrial mammals known which can accomplish such a physiological feat --all because of an exceedingly efficient kidney especially designed for desert living.

At last, we begin to see how Speck survives the harshness of his chosen realm. It is not any one condition, because the margin of safety would be much too narrow.

But, by adding these amazing physiological attributes, and all the specialized adaptations for desert life together, we find they interact to give Speck a lease on life in one of nature's most rugged environments.

If you want to meet this nature's paradox, you had better take a canteen along, for it may be a hot search. When you find his mound, mark it out for a night visit. I am sure he won't mind. If he starts drumming, remember, it's Speck's castle.

By EDWARD H. PEPLOW, JR. 75 YEARS OF ENLIG

Heroes of Western fact and fiction traditionally are outsized men, men interested in outsized ventures such as building cattle or mining empires, defeating implacable Indian foes and subduing omnipresent outlaws. This year, however, Arizona honors espe-cially the memory of a man who stood only about 5-feet-4 and weighed some 135 pounds. There is no record he ever shot a man or whipped one with his fists. He built no financial empire, nor did he stay in Arizona long enough to see the full fruition of his work. Yet, Anson P.-K. Safford is justifiably remembered as the best of Arizona's territorial governors and one of the most significant men ever to set foot into the territory. The University of Arizona and Arizona State University celebrate this year the 75th anniversary of the founding of higher education in Arizona. Bills, creating the Uni-versity and the then Territorial Normal School from which ASU has grown, were passed by the Territorial Normal Legislature March 12, 1885, and the Normal School opened its doors February 8, 1886, the first institu-tion of higher learning within a 600-mile radius, from Reno to the Mexican border, from Albuquerque to the West Coast. Historians agree, however, that it probably would have taken many years longer for Arizona to accomplish such cultural advances had it not been for one of the most remarkable personal crusades-and one of the most neglected-in the annals of the Southwest. The Little Governor, as he soon became known, arrived in Arizona in 1869 with strange equipment for tackling the big job ahead of him. Born on a rocky Vermont farm, he had been reared on a remote homestead in Illinois, where, like Abe Lincoln, he had educated himself after working hard all day, reading by firelight whatever books he could get his hands on. At 19 he joined the 49'ers rush to California, became a legislator, surveyor and businessman. In 1863 he joined the stampede to the Comstock in Nevada. There he gained more experience in politics and also stashed away enough money to make a two-year junket to the East, then a tour of Europe-a mark of rare cultural dis-tinction at the time. He returned to Nevada as territorial surveyor general; but when Arizona's second governor, the handsome and dashing Richard C. McCormick, was elected to Congress in 1868, Nevada's little Anson P.-K. Safford made a quick trip East, conferred with President Grant, and emerged as third Territorial Governor of Arizona. Before under-taking the arduous return trip, however, Safford went to New York on the first stage of his strange crusade. From the time he left New York until finally the dusty stage deposited him in Tucson, June 20, 1869, the heavy wooden box he had acquired in New York was never out of his sight.

HTENED HIGHER EDUCATION IN A FRONTIER STATE

Arizona was still suffering acutely the aftermaths of the Civil War. The Apaches, partly stalemated prior to the war, had interpreted the withdrawal of troops from Arizona as surrender by the white man and had unleashed again the violence of their vengeance. Intersectional hatreds continued to divide the white population, Confederate sympathies continuing strong in Southern Arizona, Union sentiments running running high in Northern Arizona. And more immediate jealousies, such as that over location of the territorial capital, served as convenient vehicles for feud. Against this unpromising backdrop, Arizona was engaged in practical struggles at least as difficult as those of any frontier. Even without the Apache menace, travel across endless miles of searing, roadless desert and through rugged, unmapped mountains was difficult. Just the business of living, of survival from day to day, was enough to occupy fully the energies of the stoutest family.

But The Little Governor brought with him a dream -and the courage and determination to see it fulfilled. In his first message to the legislature he reported "the mortifying fact" that Arizona had, in 1871, not a single public school on any level. He wrote to the Federal Bureau of Education that he had told the legislators "... that unless we educated the rising generations, we should raise up a population no more capable of self-government than the Apaches themselves . . ."

Despite his eloquence and sincerity, however, the solons rejected Safford's school bill, passing instead a measure which contained virtually none of the provisions Safford had requested. Thus it was, in February, 1871, that The Little Governor threw some beans, bacon, blankets and books into a buckboard and undertook his unique crusade. In the course of the next six years he visited, usually alone, every community of any consequence in the whole vast extent of Arizona. His other gubernatorial duties he discharged, capably, between junkets.

Education was his theme. His own persuasiveness was his most effective tool. The textbooks he had begged from New York publishers and transported in his heavy wooden chest all the way across the country were testimony of how deeply he believed in the cause. And his courage in traveling so extensively through the Apacheinfested wilderness, usually unescorted, won admiration for the appointee of President Grant, even from die-hard Confederates. Within a year his efforts began to bear fruit. Late in 1871 the Pima County supervisors appointed a board of trustees to found a public school, and on March 4, 1872, the school opened in Tucson under a capable young