Carnivorous Nights_ On the Trail of the Tasmanian Tiger - Margaret Mittelbach [111]
“Someone should promote the platypus's venomous character,” he suggested. We didn't think platypuses needed too much more publicity, but it was true that this was an attribute that was not commonly known.
Male platypuses have inch-long retractable spurs on their hind legs (on the inner side of their heels) that are remarkably similar in structure to the fangs of a pit viper. From these curving, hollow spurs, they can—when bothered—inject a powerful cocktail of poisons, four of which are not known to occur anywhere else in nature.
Scientists are unclear when male platypuses use their spurs in the wild—possibly against rival males during mating season. But male platypuses have been known to spur people who pick them up, most commonly platypus researchers. Platypus venom causes pain that is said to be exquisite. No known painkiller can lessen it or make it more bearable. Even giving morphine to victims has no effect, and the venom from a single platypus spur can paralyze a limb for weeks.
“What if you picked one up and it spurred you in the balls?” Alexis said. “That would be the ultimate blunder Down Under.”
Maybe for “publicity” purposes, the platypus would be better off focusing on another of its little-known attributes. The platypus's bill conceals an amazing ability—and despite appearances, it is nothing like a duck's. A duckbill is hard, stiff, and inflexible. It's made of keratin, the same substance in fingernails. But a platypus's bill is pliable, covered with skin, and filled with nerve endings that can sense electrical impulses. Strip away the outer layers and the skeleton of a platypus bill looks like a divining rod—and that's exactly what it is. The platypus has a sixth sense.
When a platypus dives underwater, it closes its eyes, nostrils, and ears, and turns on its electro-sense. Sixty thousand receptors in the platypus's bill pinpoint minute electrical signals given off by prey—crayfish, mollusks, tadpoles, and aquatic insect larvae. Using this ability, a platypus spends up to thirteen hours a day foraging, diving as often as eighty times an hour, and capturing and eating half its own weight every single day.
Alexis bent down and put some mud from the Meander's bank in a plastic bag. Then the three of us walked out onto a dock. Another platypus surfaced near a lily pad, sending off ripples that shimmered in the last purplish light of the sunset. Alexis took out his digital camera and attempted to take some photographs, but the platypus kept most of its body underwater. We tried to imagine the scene beneath the surface. With its webbed feet and paddle tail, the platypus must have looked marvelous scooting through the Meander, diving down, probing the dark water for its dinner.
We went back to the hotel and Alexis put a big Y for yes on the platypus page of his field guide to Tasmanian mammals. Then he held up his bag of river mud, and began extolling the virtues of Tasmania's wildlife.
“This is my idea,” he said. “The wildlife of this island, as diverse as it is, is almost polite. The mainland has the vulgar, harsh, dangerous wildlife. Everything here is nice and furry, not too camouflaged. It reminds me of Beatrix Potter. It has a very Victorian persona, except every-thing's upside down. One of their major crops is opium poppies. Things just don't quite fit. The giant lobster, the Tasmanian devil, the burrowing crayfish. What the hell is that? The platypus? Come on. The fauna is surrealistic. It's almost inspiring enough