Island Life; Or, The Phenomena and Causes of Insular Faunas and Floras. Alfred Russel Wallace
as to remove the general impression of a wonderful resemblance between the productions of such remote islands as Britain and Yesso.
Now let an inhabitant of Australia sail to New Zealand, a distance of less than thirteen hundred miles, and he will find himself in a country whose productions are totally unlike those of his own. Kangaroos and wombats there are none, the birds are almost all entirely new, insects are very scarce and quite unlike the handsome or strange Australian forms, while even the vegetation is all changed, and no gum-tree, or wattle, or grass-tree meets the traveller's eye.
But there are some more striking cases even than this, of the diversity of the productions of countries not far apart. In the Malay Archipelago there are two islands, named Bali and Lombok, each about as large as Corsica, and separated by a strait only fifteen miles wide at its narrowest part. Yet these islands differ far more from each other in their birds and quadrupeds than do England and Japan. The birds of the one are extremely unlike those of the other, the difference being such as to strike even the most ordinary observer. Bali has red and green woodpeckers, barbets, weaver-birds, and black-and-white magpie-robins, none of which are found in Lombok, where, however, we find screaming cockatoos and friar-birds, and the strange mound-building megapodes, which are all equally unknown in Bali. Many of the kingfishers, crow-shrikes, and other birds, though of the same general form, are of very distinct species; and though a considerable number of birds are the same in both islands the difference is none the less remarkable—as proving that mere distance is one of the least important of the causes which have determined the likeness or unlikeness in the animals of different countries.
In the western hemisphere we find equally striking examples. The Eastern United States possess very peculiar and interesting plants and animals, the vegetation becoming more luxuriant as we go south but not altering in essential character, so that when we reach Alabama or Florida we still find ourselves in the midst of pines, oaks, sumachs, magnolias, vines, and other characteristic forms of the temperate flora; while the birds, insects, and land-shells are of the same general character with those found further north.1 But if we now cross over the narrow strait, about fifty miles wide, which separates Florida from the Bahama Islands, we find ourselves in a totally different country, surrounded by a vegetation which is essentially tropical and generally identical with that of Cuba. The change is most striking, because there is little difference of climate, of soil, or apparently of position, to account for it; and when we find that the birds, the insects, and especially the land-shells of the Bahamas are almost all West Indian, while the North American types of plants and animals have almost all completely disappeared, we shall be convinced that such differences and resemblances cannot be due to existing conditions, but must depend upon laws and causes to which mere proximity of position offers no clue.
Hardly less uncertain and irregular are the effects of climate. Hot countries usually differ widely from cold ones in all their organic forms; but the difference is by no means constant, nor does it bear any proportion to difference of temperature. Between frigid Canada and sub-tropical Florida there are less marked differences in the animal productions than between Florida and Cuba or Yucatan, so much more alike in climate and so much nearer together. So the differences between the birds and quadrupeds of temperate Tasmania and tropical North Australia are slight and unimportant as compared with the enormous differences we find when we pass from the latter country to equally tropical Java. If we compare corresponding portions of different continents, we find no indication that the almost perfect similarity of climate and general conditions has any tendency to produce similarity in the animal world. The equatorial parts of Brazil and of the West Coast of Africa are almost identical in climate and in luxuriance of vegetation, but their animal life is totally diverse. In the former we have tapirs, sloths, and prehensile-tailed monkeys; in the latter elephants, antelopes, and man-like apes; while among birds, the toucans, chatterers, and humming-birds of Brazil are replaced by the plantain-eaters, bee-eaters, and sun-birds of Africa. Parts of South-temperate America, South Africa, and South Australia, correspond closely in climate; yet the birds and quadrupeds of these three districts are as completely unlike each other as those of any parts of the world that can be named.
If we visit the great islands of the globe, we find that they present similar anomalies in their animal productions, for while some exactly resemble the nearest continents others are widely different. Thus the quadrupeds, birds and insects of Borneo correspond very closely to those of the Asiatic continent, while those of Madagascar are extremely unlike African forms, although the distance from the continent is less in the latter case than in the former. And if we compare the three great islands Sumatra, Borneo, and Celebes—lying as it were side by side in the same ocean—we find that the two former, although furthest apart, have almost identical productions, while the two latter, though closer together, are more unlike than Britain and Japan situated in different oceans and separated by the largest of the great continents.
These examples will illustrate the kind of questions it is the object of the present work to deal with. Every continent, every country, and every island on the globe, offers similar problems of greater or less complexity and interest, and the time has now arrived when their solution can be attempted with some prospect of success. Many years study of this class of subjects has convinced me that there is no short and easy method of dealing with them; because they are, in their very nature, the visible outcome and residual product of the whole past history of the earth. If we take the organic productions of a small island, or of any very limited tract of country, such as a moderate-sized country parish, we have, in their relations and affinities—in the fact that they are there and others are not there, a problem which involves all the migrations of these species and their ancestral forms—all the vicissitudes of climate and all the changes of sea and land which have affected those migrations—the whole series of actions and reactions which have determined the preservation of some forms and the extinction of others,—in fact the whole history of the earth, inorganic and organic, throughout a large portion of geological time.
We shall perhaps better exhibit the scope and complexity of the subject, and show that any intelligent study of it was almost impossible till quite recently, if we concisely enumerate the great mass of facts and the number of scientific theories or principles which are necessary for its elucidation.
We require then in the first place an adequate knowledge of the fauna and flora of the whole world, and even a detailed knowledge of many parts of it, including the islands of more special interest and their adjacent continents. This kind of knowledge is of very slow growth, and is still very imperfect;2 and in many cases it can never now be obtained owing to the reckless destruction of forests and with them of countless species of plants and animals. In the next place we require a true and natural classification of animals and plants, so that we may know their real affinities; and it is only now that this is being generally arrived at. We further have to make use of the theory of "descent with modification" as the only possible key to the interpretation of the facts of distribution, and this theory has only been generally accepted within the last twenty years. It is evident that, so long as the belief in "special creations" of each species prevailed, no explanation of the complex facts of distribution could be arrived at or even conceived; for if each species was created where it is now found no further inquiry can take us beyond that fact, and there is an end of the whole matter. Another important factor in our interpretation of the phenomena of distribution, is a knowledge of the extinct forms that have inhabited each country during the tertiary and secondary periods of geology. New facts of this kind are daily coming to light, but except as regards Europe, North America, and parts of India, they are extremely scanty; and even in the best-known countries the record itself is often very defective and fragmentary. Yet we have already obtained remarkable evidence of the migrations of many animals and plants in past ages, throwing an often unexpected light on the actual distribution of many groups.3 By this means alone can we obtain positive evidence of the past migrations of organisms; and when, as too frequently is the case, this is altogether wanting, we have to trust to collateral evidence and more or less probable hypothetical explanations. Hardly less valuable is the evidence of stratigraphical geology; for this often shows us what parts of a country have been submerged at certain epochs, and thus enables us to prove that certain areas have been long isolated and the fauna
A small number of species belonging to the West Indies are found in the extreme southern portion of the Florida Peninsula.
I cannot avoid here referring to the enormous waste of labour and money with comparatively scanty and unimportant results to natural history of most of the great scientific voyages of the various civilized governments during the present century. All these expeditions combined have done far less than private collectors in making known the products of remote lands and islands. They have brought home fragmentary collections, made in widely scattered localities, and these have been usually described in huge folios or quartos, whose value is often in inverse proportion to their bulk and cost. The same species have been collected again and again, often described several times over under new names, and not unfrequently stated to be from places they never inhabited. The result of this wretched system is that the productions of some of the most frequently visited and most interesting islands on the globe are still very imperfectly known, while their native plants and animals are being yearly exterminated, and this is the case even with countries under the rule or protection of European governments. Such are the Sandwich Islands, Tahiti, the Marquesas, the Philippine Islands, and a host of smaller ones; while Bourbon and Mauritius, St. Helena, and several others, have only been adequately explored after an important portion of their productions has been destroyed by cultivation or the reckless introduction of goats and pigs. The employment in each of our possessions, and those of other European powers, of a resident naturalist at a very small annual expense, would have done more for the advancement of knowledge in this direction than all the expensive expeditions that have again and again circumnavigated the globe.
The general facts of Palæontology, as bearing on the migrations of animal groups, are summarised in my