Closed to the public, the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology in Berkeley, Calif., offers biologists a good look at a century's worth of bat carcasses, bear jaws, and some hard-working, flesh-eating beetles.
Museum of Vertebrate Zoology
BERKELEY, Calif.--It's hard to imagine a museum with a collection comparable to some of the larger natural history museums in the United States, going relatively unnoticed. But the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology, a research collection at the University of California at Berkeley that's closed to public visitors, has more than 650,000 cataloged specimens going back more than a century.
The museum is a wonderful catalog of the natural world; the well-documented specimens, collected over a period of more than 100 years, give researchers an understanding of not only animals, but the places and conditions in which they lived.
Although it houses a thorough library of animals from California and the American West, the MVZ also contains species and observations from around the world.
In 1908, Annie Montague Alexander, an intrepid traveler and heir to the C&H Sugar company, founded the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology, proclaiming its purpose as a scientific research lab. She immediately appointed zoologist Joseph Grinnell as museum director, a position he held until his death in 1939.
These birds were collected by Grinnell on August 26, 1911, near the Cottonwood Lakes, at 11,000 feet in the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Tuyo County, Calif.
Original handwritten journal entries are published as bound books, giving modern-day researchers first-hand information on the conditions and details of each past trip.
These research notes become the stories attached to each expedition, detailing not only characteristics of an animal, but also giving biological context to the study, including notes on the weather, other animals that might have been spotted during the trip, and even cultural context.
Jim Patton, the current curator and professor emeritus at the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology, has been involved with the museum for more than 42 years; he has personally collected thousands of specimens from the field during hundreds of research trips to examine animals and ecosystems.
Having spent extensive time around the world, Patton describes scientific expeditions as a careful kind of hunting, one with purpose and care.
Recently, Patton returned from a research trip to Indonesia, where he collected these fruit bats.
During the early 1900s, there were so many bears that the State of California paid the public a bounty for killing them in an effort to thin the population. The grizzly is now extinct here, but the museum holds a few skulls from that era, when the state thinned the population.
For the faint of heart, it's a gruesome scene inside the museum prep lab, the first stop for any incoming museum inhabitant. It's here that animals are taken apart; in 2009, the lab cleaned more than 2,000 skeletons, going from corpse to clean bones and off to the museum collection in just a few weeks.
The shelf-lined walls hold buckets of animal parts, and skinned birds hang in the air to dry. Lab tables with scalpels, buckets of bloody innards, and what remain of animals in various states of decomposition lay about.
Here, three student lab technicians cut the muscle and skin away from the bone of a lion that had died from old age and was donated by a local organization.
Around the lab, there are more than 1,000 skeletal specimens in some stage of cleaning, Albe says, and more than 3,000 frozen carcasses in the freezer waiting for attention.
After removing the majority of flesh from the bones, what remains of the animal is left sitting out in the lab, and let to dry out to what Albe called "beef jerky." The scent of lab the wafts through the halls.
Under Albe's tenure at the museum, the lab has moved away from using any caustic chemicals in their preservation processes. Using simple cleaning methods is a bit slower than using the tougher, more toxic chemicals but worth the health and environmental savings, she said.
One museum preservation technique that was pioneered at the UC Berkeley Museum of Vertebrate Zoology is that of using a natural parasite to clean flesh from bones.
Instead of using chemicals to strip the bones, the Berkeley lab opted to use a flesh-eating beetle to do the job. Give the beetle a few weeks or even months, and you have a much cleaner bone ready for the museum.
While not as notable to the public as the other great natural history collections, the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology certainly is an incredible research museum, one that gives visiting scientists a broad and detailed look at animal life.
The collection, now more than a century old, with its detailed catalogs and specific expeditionary stories, will only become more valuable as scientists are able to look back over time while researching animal biology.