do birds have 4 legs

Many years ago I went to a talk about the birds of Ancient Egypt and about identifying their species from hieroglyphs & art. Sadly I can’t remember the name of the speaker for sure but I think it must’ve been John Wyatt. What I do remember is that he showed us a picture of a Predynastic object decorated with rows of animals, each row a different type of animal. And he pointed out the row with the long-legged long-necked birds, and told us that in every example of this motif the second from the front is the “four legged bird”! So now when I see a comb or knife handle with rows of animals I make a point of looking for the four legged bird – and I’ve always found one.

The four legged bird is, of course, a giraffe. Which doesn’t, at first blush, make it seem less of an oddity to find in Predynastic Egyptian art. Giraffes in the modern era are found in sub-Saharan Africa, not in the Nile Valley. But the Sahara has not always been so arid, and once supported vegetation and animals that we now associate with more southerly regions of Africa including giraffes. As the climate changed and the desert became inhospitable both animals & people were pushed towards the south and towards the Nile Valley. It’s this concentration of people in the valley and the shift from nomadic pastoral life to settled agriculture that kickstarted Egyptian civilisation. During the period from c. 5000 BCE through to c. 3250 BCE the Prehistoric Egyptians would still have had giraffes living alongside them, perhaps even large herds of them. But the giraffes disappeared during the Early Dynastic Period and were gone from Egypt by the early Old Kingdom at the latest. Partly this is down to the continuing aridification of the climate pushing the giraffes’ range south. And partly because of increasing competition with domestic animals as the Egyptian civilisation flourished. Interestingly their disappearance doesn’t seem to’ve involved over-hunting, which is my normal assumption when mega-fauna vanishes from a region in correlation with increased human presence! Giraffe bones are not often found in the Nile Valley, and certainly not in the sort of quantity that would imply hunting them was a significant part of the economy.

So perhaps not surprising after all that giraffes feature in Prehistoric and Predynastic Egyptian art. Giraffes are seen in lot of rock art throughout the period but in terms of more portable objects there seem to be two phases. During the Naqada I period (c. 3900-3650 BCE) giraffes are seen incised on pots and cosmetic palettes. There are also finds of long-toothed combs with the handles sculpted into giraffes. Then during the Naqada II period (c.3650-3300 BCE) depictions of giraffes become less common – a find at Hierakonpolis in 1998 of a pot with a giraffe incised on it is a rare example. And then there is a resurgence in giraffe ry during the Naqada III period (3300-3150 BCE), including in the motif of rows of animals that I opened this article with. The rows of sorted animals might represent an imposition of order onto chaos, a frequent Egyptian theme, and an assertion of control over these animals by grouping them into types (with the mix of giraffes and birds being “things with long necks and long legs”). Giraffes are also depicted facing palm trees, often a pair of giraffes flanking a palm tree. There’s an example of this on the back of the Battlefield Palette (now in the British Museum) and one on the back of the Four Dog Palette (now in the Louvre). The meaning of this motif is unclear.

Art representing giraffes does not really outlive the presence of giraffes in the Nile Valley – they are rare in Pharaonic art, mostly showing up on seals. They don’t become associated with any of the mythological underpinnings of Egyptian culture – no god is personified as a giraffe. During the New Kingdom there are more representations, but most of these (like the rather fine example in TT100, the tomb of Rekhmire) are in contexts where they are exotic animals brought as tribute to Pharaoh by African vassals.

But giraffes do live on in Egyptian writing – there is a giraffe hieroglyph (sign E27 in Gardiner’s Sign List). This can be used for the word for giraffe (as a single sign or ideogram for the word) and is otherwise used in only two words. In both of those cases it is used as a determinative (which is a symbol that doesn’t represent a sound but instead indicates what sort of word is being spelt out). These two words are sr (which means “foretell”) and mmj (which means “giraffe”). Neither book I looked at had any speculation on why a giraffe might be used in the word “foretell”, but I like the idea that it’s because the long necked giraffe can see further ahead.

There seems to be tantalisingly little known about giraffes in early Egyptian culture, looking through my book collection I found very few that even mention giraffes. As they show up in well defined motifs on elite objects like large ceremonial palettes it’s definitely tempting to assume that they meant something to the people of the time, rather than just being decorative. But what that is is unknown and I suspect is always going to be an unanswered question – except for the intriguing hint of an association with foretelling the future.

“Middle Egyptian: An Introduction to the Language and Culture of Hieroglyphs” James P. Allen “Egyptian Grammar: Being an Introduction to the Study of Hieroglyphs” Alan Gardiner “Giraffes in Ancient Egypt” Dirk Huyge (In Nekhen News Vol. 10 1998) “Dawn of Egyptian Art” Diana Craig Patch

Looking through my book collection, I found very few that even mentioned giraffes, suggesting that there is a tantalizingly small amount of information known about giraffes in early Egyptian culture. It is easy to believe that they served a functional rather than merely decorative purpose when they appear in clearly defined motifs on upscale items like large ceremonial palettes. But aside from the intriguing suggestion that it may be connected to prophecy, what that is is unknown and, I believe, will always remain an open question.

The existence of giraffes in the Nile Valley is not truly reflected in art; giraffes are uncommon in Pharaonic art and typically appear on seals. They are not connected to any of the Egyptian mythology’s pillars; no deity is personified as a giraffe. There are more representations from the New Kingdom, but the majority of them (such as the rather lovely example in TT100, the tomb of Rekhmire) are in settings where exotic animals brought as tribute to the Pharaoh by African vassals

“Middle Egyptian: An Introduction to the Language and Culture of Hieroglyphs” James P. Allen “Egyptian Grammar: Being an Introduction to the Study of Hieroglyphs” Alan Gardiner “Giraffes in Ancient Egypt” Dirk Huyge (In Nekhen News Vol. 10 1998) “Dawn of Egyptian Art” Diana Craig Patch

Therefore, it should come as no surprise that giraffes can be found in prehistoric and predynastic Egyptian art. There are many rock paintings from this era that feature giraffes, but there appear to be two stages when it comes to more transportable artifacts. During the Naqada I period (c. Giraffes are seen etched on pots and makeup palettes from 3900–3650 BCE. Long-toothed combs with giraffe-shaped handles have also been discovered. Then during the Naqada II period (c. Giraffe representations start to become less common between 3650 and 3300 BCE; a 1998 discovery at Hierakonpolis of a pot with an engraved giraffe on it is a unique example. And then, during the Naqada III era (3300-3150 BCE), there is a resurgence of giraffe ry, as evidenced by the motif of rows of animals with which I began this article. By classifying the animals into groups according to their types—with giraffes and birds together being “things with long necks and long legs”—the rows of sorted animals may symbolize an attempt to impose order on chaos, a recurring Egyptian motif, and an assertion of control over these creatures. Additionally, giraffes are shown facing palm trees; frequently, two giraffes are shown flanking a palm tree. Examples of this can be found on the backs of the Battlefield Palette, which is currently housed in the British Museum, and the Four Dog Palette, which is currently housed in the Louvre. The meaning of this motif is unclear.

The four legged bird is, of course, a giraffe. which, at first glance, doesn’t seem to lessen how strange it is to find in Predynastic Egyptian art. Contemporary giraffes inhabit sub-Saharan Africa, not the Nile Valley. However, the Sahara was not always so dry; it once supported plants and animals, such as giraffes, that we now associate with more southern parts of Africa. Both animals became less hospitable in the desert as the climate changed. Egyptian civilization was sparked by this valley’s population density and the transition from a pastoral, nomadic lifestyle to a settled agricultural one. During the period from c. 5000 BCE through to c. Giraffes would still have been a part of the Prehistoric Egyptian way of life in 3250 BCE; in fact, there might have been huge herds of them. However, the giraffes vanished in Egypt by the early Old Kingdom at the latest, having vanished during the Early Dynastic Period. This is partially due to the climate’s ongoing aridification, which is driving the giraffes’ range south. And in part because, as Egyptian civilization developed, competition with domestic animals grew. Giraffe bones are not commonly found in the Nile Valley, and certainly not in the kind of quantity that would suggest hunting them was a significant part of the economy. It’s interesting that their disappearance doesn’t seem to have involved over-hunting, which is my normal assumption when mega-fauna vanishes from a region in correlation with increased human presence!

According to Habib, the longer, asymmetric leg feathers of the Microraptor likely contributed in some way to its ability to glide or fly, but other species with long legs may have simply had smaller plumes as a result of a developmental quirk. According to him, “it might not take much to tweak a set onto the hind limbs too” if certain genes are causing the front limbs to grow large feathers.

Almost any bird’s leg will have feathers covering the thigh and scales covering everything below the “knee.” There are a few exceptions, such as golden eagles, which have fluffy foot feathers for insulation, and certain predatory birds that resemble they are wearing loose pants. However, the majority of living birds have nude lower legs.

Dark shadows that extend from the lower leg’s bones are visible in the posts throughout this one. Certain specimens exhibit leg feathers that display a central rod, also known as a “rachis,” that is stiff and curved, with symmetrical vanes protruding on either side. They appear to form a sizable flat surface and emerge from the bones at right angles.

Kevin Padian from the University of California, Berkeley agrees. He points out that no one has actually done any proper tests to show if the leg feathers were involved in flight. They would certainly have created drag, but they could only have provided lift if they sat in a flat sheet like the wings of modern birds. Xu claims that they were, but Padian says that the feathers could just have been flattened into a plane as they became fossilised. “It hasn’t been shown that this is really an aerodynamically competent wing,” he says.

It was an ornithologist called William Beebe who first suggested that early birds might have passed through a four-winged gliding stage on their way to evolving true flapping flight. That was in 1915 and though Beebe’s idea was fanciful, there wasn’t much strong evidence behind it.

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