N atural history is not always glamorous. While you may end up under an African sunset watching herds of Wildebeest sweep majestically across the plain, it is often much more prosaic — but nonetheless interesting.

I received a phone call the other day from a good friend of mine who had had the fortune, or misfortune, depending on your perspective, of finding a dead rat on her balcony. She explained that on making the discovery, she had had three thoughts in rapid succession: sorrow at the creature’s demise, revulsion that it should have shrugged off its mortal coil on her balcony, and then “Wow, I must tell Richard!” I was thrilled she had thought of me, given that most people could not have disposed of the ex-rodent quickly enough, because for the ever-curious naturalist, the burning question had to be: What sort of rat?

Before long I was round at my friend’s apartment and had identified the deceased as the House Rat, aka Rattus rattus.

Glamorous, no, but certainly interesting. From similar incidents over the years, it appears that the House Rat is the common rat of the city. It is typically rat-like in form, with largish ears and a noticeably long tail, clearly greater than the head and body length. Although it is also known as the Black Rat, all the specimens I have seen in Egypt have been a dull gray-brown. Back in my native UK, the House Rat is now one of the rarest mammals, found only on a few offshore islands. It seems to have retreated due to competition from the larger Brown Rat, a robust rodent, similar in general form but with smaller ears and a thicker and proportionately shorter tail. The Brown Rat is also found in Egypt, but rather than ousting the House Rat from its urban niche, here the Brown Rat seems to be limited to wetter areas along irrigation canals, drainage ditches and the like. One wonders why the House Rat should be so successful here and yet on the verge of extinction in Britain. Other factors are clearly at play. The climate in the UK is much wetter than in Egypt, so perhaps the Brown Rat, seemingly more at home in damper habitats, has a behavioral advantage over the House Rat there.

I also received an e-mail with an interesting sighting from Minya Governorate of “a dark gray, rounded mammal about 1 meter in length (not including tail) in an irrigation ditch.” The spotter wondered if it could be an otter, but there are no otters in modern Egypt. The Cape Clawless Otter and the Spot-necked Otter, two African species recorded from the Nile, reach no further north than southern Sudan.

However, one of the tomb friezes in the tomb of Mereruka at Saqqara bears a representation of what I am convinced is an otter. It is depicted in a papyrus swamp lying on its belly, eating away at a fish that is held in its forepaws. The head is typically otter, with a blunt muzzle and very small ears, the tail is stout with a thick stock and the paws, holding the fish, simply cry out, “otter.” If it is an otter, and I am convinced, then perhaps either the Cape Clawless or the Spot-necked Otter extended north to the Delta in Pharaonic times. The draining of the vast papyrus swamps would certainly have lead to its demise and, given that there is, to my knowledge, only one such portrayal, it may have been rare and elusive even then.

The other possibility is that the frieze depicts a captive animal brought back from an expedition to what is now Sudan.

If the mystery mammal is not an otter, then what could it be? The description and habitat leave only one credible candidate: the Egyptian Mongoose. This versatile carnivore reaches over a meter in length including tail, is a grizzled gray-brown in color, turning to black on the muzzle and legs, and trots around with the back arched and the nose to the ground.

Indeed, this distinctive characteristic is responsible for its other name (and a more sensible name, as the species is found over much of sub-Saharan Africa and even reaches southern Spain) of Ichneumon Mongoose, derived from the Greek word for ‘tracker.’ The Minya record is notable as it is to the south of most recent records though it has been recorded from as far south as Assiut in the past. In temperate regions, the Egyptian Mongoose gives birth to up to four young (mongoslings?) in the spring, so family groups should be looked for in areas of suitable damp habitat throughout the Nile Delta. I have seen the Egyptian Mongoose at El-Gabal El-Asfar, just outside Cairo, and it is reportedly common in the Fayoum.

The mongoose, too, appears in Pharaonic friezes, often in the act of thieving eggs from nests. It is an opportunistic hunter, also taking rodents, reptiles, frogs, insects and other invertebrates. But it is most renowned for tackling snakes, including poisonous ones. Across the border in Israel, researchers have shown that Egyptian Mongooses are important controllers of the venomous Palestine Viper.

On the feathered front, the spring migration continues through May, but by the end of the month most migrant birds, along with species that have wintered here, will have left for European breeding grounds. There are a few birds, however, that are summer visitors, coming to Egypt to breed. One of these is the Blue-cheeked Bee-eater. This handsome bird is bright green throughout with brilliant turquoise, yellow and orange on the head and a black bandit mask through the eyes. Its length of some 30 centimeters includes the elongated central tail feathers. Blue-cheeked Bee-eaters nest in loose colonies in burrows dug in the side of earth banks. At the Sun Temple north of Abu Sir, they nest in the mud brick walls of an archeological excavation, while back at El-Gabal El-Asfar they use the earthen banks of irrigation canals.

Another summer visitor (at least in part — some populations are resident) is the Turtle Dove. The Turtle Dove differs from the familiar Palm or Laughing Dove in the bright orange-brown margins to the mantle feathers, the bright red bare skin around the eyes and the black and white stripes on the side of the neck. Various races have been described from all over the country, as far out as the Western Desert oases and Wadi El-Natroun, and it is common in the gardens behind the temple at Abu Simbel.

If you happen to brave the fierce heat of southernmost Egypt over the summer, another dove is worth looking out for: the tiny Namaqua Dove, a lovely, elegant species barely the size of a House Sparrow, but with a long, slender tail. Both sexes are overall pale but the male sports a striking black face and breast. It is a relatively recent colonist of the southern Nile Valley, first recorded in 1971 and now a probably a regular breeder. I have yet to add the Namaqua Dove to my Egyptian list, but can remember watching a pair on Tuti Island in Khartoum.

What a beautiful bird. From dead rat to diminutive dove, grossness to grace, natural history covers it all.

Finally, my thanks this month to Greg Olson for notifying me of the Egyptian Mongoose sighting. et