Spirit of Aloha | Features | January/February 2007

Diversions
By: Joseph Theroux

The Accidental Tourist

PHOTO: ©JACK JEFFREY / PHOTO RESOURCE HAWAI‘I PHOTO: ©G. BRAD LEWIS / PHOTO RESOURCE HAWAI‘I No use allowed of copyrighted photos

In literature, he’s called Rikki-tikki-tavi; in Hawaiian, he’s ‘Iole manakuke; in Latin, he’s Herpestes javanicus. He’s the Indian mongoose, a ferretlike carnivore that grows up to two feet long, the classic enemy of the cobra. He’s also the archetypal invasive species, introduced to Hawai‘i to eat the rats that were devouring the sugar cane crop. The only trouble with this plan is that rats are nocturnal and mongooses are diurnal. They thrive just fine together.

“He was a mongoose,” Rudyard Kip­ling wrote in The Jungle Book (1894), “rather like a little cat in his fur and tail, but quite like a weasel in his head and in his habits. His eyes and the end of his restless nose were pink.” His name was his war cry, his shrill shriek. Kipling vividly describes his dancing technique as prancing nimbly and fearlessly—as he kills the king cobras Nag and Nagaina.

The root word is not “-goose” so the plural is never “-geese.” It’s derived from the Hindi word mangus. Female mon­gooses can begin breeding at only 10 weeks of age, and can have three litters a year, with three in a litter. Since they generally live for about four years, they are able to produce three dozen young jerries in a lifetime. They have long carnassial teeth—“the teeth of a carnivore”—used to tear flesh. Tourists often mistake them for long, lithe brown squirrels, blurs scurrying into the undergrowth.

We don’t know the name of the naval officer who ordered the introduction of toads “like some Biblical curse” to American Samoa to eat the flies, or the German copra plantation owner on Savai‘i, who shipped in the boa constrictors to eat the rats, but we do know the name of the mongooses’ travel agent. And the exact date they arrived.

So who’s the genius who brought them to Hawai‘i? Come on down, W.H. Purvis!

William Herbert Purvis was the manager of the Pacific Sugar Mill at Ku­kui­haele, above Waipi‘o Valley on the Big Island. When he was 25, “a dapper dresser with a taste for travel,” he went on a cruise that took him to Africa and India. He returned to Hawai‘i via Aus­tralia and New Zealand. His ship, Zealandia, dropped anchor in Honolulu Harbor at 4 p.m., on Sunday, Sept. 23, 1883. The Pacific Commercial Advertiser reported that he had a load of mongooses aboard. He had been concerned about protecting his cane plants and had heard that the mongoose was a natural enemy of the rat, and so he had gone off to India to get a crateful. He told the Advertiser reporter that “these are the first mongooses ever brought to these Islands and in all probability they will in­crease rapidly and prove very useful in destroying all kinds of small vermin.” He assured everyone that they would not bother chickens, possibly be­cause he also had a flock of Silver Brahma hens in his luggage.

Most histories do not mention that it was Purvis who was responsible for the importation of the mongoose to Hawai‘i. He is usually credited, rather, with the introduction of the macadamia nut tree. What is not commonly known is that the species of the tree he brought in had nuts of inferior quality. It wasn’t until years later that other plant propagators developed the large, tasty nut we know today. Anyway, Purvis didn’t bring it in for the nuts; he considered it an ornamental. He didn’t see much production value beyond that. And macadamia accounts do not assign a specific date to the first arrival of the mac nut; guesses are anywhere from 1881 to 1885. Yet, in that 1883 Zealandia cargo Purvis also carried “seeds of many different kinds of schrubs [sic] and trees and some plants.”

It is almost certain that the maca­damia arrived in Hawai‘i on the same ship as the mongoose.

The Advertiser wrote: “They are of a dark gray color and in size somewhat larger than a large rat. They have long noses and are very active.”

Well, they did increase rapidly, leaving the rats and chickens alone. They did, however, quite enjoy hen, shorebird and nēnē eggs.

With no natural enemies, the mongoose has covered a lot of territory, expanding his flock across the Big Island, Maui and O‘ahu. Though unable to get a foothold on either Kaua‘i or Lāna‘i, it was not from lack of trying. The Advertiser re­ported on Jan. 25, 1905, that one was spotted at ‘Ele‘ele and proclaimed: “MONGOOSE ON KAUA‘I; GARDEN ISLAND PEOPLE FIND ONE AND KILL HIM.” Over the years more at­tempts have been made. In 2004, the Honolulu Star-Bulletin reported that “a credible sighting was made Monday. Mongoose is No. 1 on the most-wanted list on Kaua‘i this week.”

The state of Hawai‘i is determined to keep out invasive species. It is most ada­mant about Guam’s brown tree snake, occasionally finding one in the wheel-well of a jet and grandly displaying it on the evening news. But while it was concentrating on the tree snake, the coqui frog invaded the Big Island, sparking a fight the state has already given up. (It is, however, defending Maui and O‘ahu.)

Mongooses prefer flight to fight, and so have a reputation for shyness.

But a scientific study once put me nose to nose with a furious mangus.

One of the projects of the Hawai‘i Department of Health is called Vector Control. Vectors are carriers. In Puerto Rico, mongooses carry rabies and leptospirosis. Hawai‘i is free of the former but combating the latter. Several years ago, I got a call from a Vector Control spe­cialist. He was conducting a study of mongooses in my area and wished to place a “Hav-a-hart” trap at the edge of my yard, at the head of a meadow. He arrived early in the morning and placed it in an opening in the long California grass, a reedy tunnel evidently carved out by feral pigs. He said he’d be back to check on it in a few days.

When I returned from work that af­ter­noon, I heard a high-pitched shrieking from the backyard. A mongoose was rattling the cage like some indignant felon. I ap­proached—which caused him to leap and shriek louder. A mongoose will normally retreat from a human, and dart off into the nearest crevice. It will only advance when cornered.

This fellow was cornered—and frantic. I had never seen one so angry. Normally I would have retreated, but, made brave by the galvanized cage, I advanced. He was beside himself, so angry and, no doubt, fearful. As my nose neared his nose, I saw his little brown, not pink, eyes. And that tiny trembling tongue amid those fangs! Here indeed was one who could defeat the king cobra. He was so furious he was nearly spitting.

“Rikki-tikki-tavi!” I called. “Did you kill Nag?”

He sputtered at me in a rage. The cage clattered.

I reached out. I have no doubt that, had the cage given way, he would have latched onto my hand and ripped it to shreds. I had an image of that, and it made me back away. I called Vector Control to let them know the cage was ready to be picked up.

Some invasions are worse than others. Old timers in Samoa insist that there are far fewer flies than in their youth, even though there are more squashed toads on the busy roads every day. And the boa constrictors on Savai‘i? It turns out that they were tree boas, and only bother you if you choose to pick breadfruit by hand, up in the trees.

The Hawai‘i Invasive Species Task Force, however, has nothing to fear from Guam’s tree snake. We have Rikki-tikki-tavi to defend us!

JOSEPH THEROUX is a public school administrator on the Big Island and writes on aspects of Hawai‘i and Pacific history.

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