Collapse_ How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed - Jared Diamond [75]
The remaining habitable island of Southeast Polynesia, Henderson, is the largest (14 square miles) but is also the most remote (100 miles northeast of Pitcairn, 400 miles east of Mangareva) and the most marginal for human existence. Unlike Mangareva or Pitcairn, Henderson is not volcanic but is in effect a coral reef that geological processes thrust up 100 feet above sea level. Hence Henderson is devoid of basalt or other rocks suitable for tool-making. That’s a severe limitation for a society of stone tool makers. An additional severe limitation for any humans is that Henderson has no streams or reliable freshwater sources, because the island consists of porous limestone. At best, for a few days after the unpredictable arrivals of rain, water drips from the roofs of caves, and puddles of water can be found on the ground. There is also a freshwater spring that bubbles up in the ocean about 20 feet offshore. During Marshall Weisler’s months on Henderson, he found obtaining drinking water even with modern tarpaulins to catch the rain a constant effort, and most of his cooking and all of his washing and bathing had to be carried out with saltwater.
Even soil on Henderson is confined to small pockets between the limestone. The island’s tallest trees are only about 50 feet high and not big enough to fashion into canoe hulls. The resulting stunted forest and thick undergrowth are so dense that they require a machete to penetrate them. Henderson’s beaches are narrow and confined to the north end; its south coast consists of vertical cliffs where it is impossible to land a boat; and the south end of the island is a makatea landscape thrown into alternating rows of razor-sharp limestone ridges and fissures. That south end has been reached only three times by groups of Europeans, one of them Weisler’s group. It took Weisler, wearing hiking boots, five hours to cover the five miles from Henderson’s north coast to its south coast—where he promptly discovered a rock shelter formerly occupied by barefoot Polynesians.
Offsetting these fearsome disadvantages, Henderson does have attractions. In the reef and shallow waters nearby live lobsters, crabs, octopus, and a limited variety of fish and shellfish—unfortunately, not including black-lipped pearl oyster. On Henderson is Southeast Polynesia’s sole known turtle nesting beach, where green turtles come ashore to lay eggs between January and March of each year. Henderson formerly supported at least 17 species of breeding seabirds, including petrel colonies possibly as large as millions of birds, whose adults and chicks would have been easy to catch on the nest—enough for a population of a hundred people each to eat one bird every day of the year without endangering the colonies’ survival. The island was also home to nine species of resident land birds, five of them flightless or weak fliers and hence easy to catch, including three species of large pigeons that would have been especially delectable.
All those features would have made Henderson a great place for an afternoon picnic ashore, or for a short vacation to glut yourself on seafood and birds and turtles—but a risky and marginal home in which to try to eke out a permanent existence. Weisler’s excavations nevertheless showed, to the surprise of anyone who has seen or heard of Henderson, that the island did evidently support a permanent tiny population, possibly comprising a few dozen people who went to extreme effort in order to survive. Proof of their former presence is provided by 98 human bones and teeth representing at least 10 adults (both men and women,