Strange Beasts

Consider the platypus, whose existence is proof positive that truth is stranger than fiction. At some point, toward the end of creation, God apparently had body parts left over. Not being wasteful, He decided to knit them together and assemble the platypus. Upon completion, He plopped the animal down in eastern Australia, the Land of Weird Things.

Even the first Australians were uncertain about the platypus. In 1798, they sent a pelt and a sketch home to England so more educated minds could identify whatever the hell it was they had discovered. The English naturalists who examined the pelt and sketch were certain of one thing—they were not going to be fooled by those wily Australian explorers. They did their best to expose the hoax.

Meanwhile, at home Down Under, the improbable, unassuming platypus, with its duck bill, beaver tail, and otter feet, swam and hunted merrily as always in the rivers and streams. It also merrily laid its eggs instead of giving birth like other mammals. And if you crossed the platypus, you could be stung with its incapacitating venom, delivered by the male of the species with the spur on its hind feet.

Unlike the canine family, represented by dogs, wolves, foxes, and so on, or felines such as lions, tigers, leopards, and domestic cats, there are no other members of the family Platypine. There is only the lonely, homely platypus itself.

However, there is a counterpart to the platypus in the world of music, and it is, of course, another odd beast: the saxophone.

The body of the saxophone, like trumpets or trombones, is made of brass, but it is played with a single reed mouthpiece like a clarinet. Instead of valves, it has keys. Heretofore, it has not given live birth, but there are those of the species that have on occasion laid an egg or two.

The saxophone cannot be blamed on God. The responsibility for its creation rests on the shoulders of a nineteenth-century Belgian musician named Adolphe Sax. His purpose was to bridge the gap between woodwind and brass instruments and to make the most powerful woodwind ever.

He succeeded.

The saxophone habitat is not confined to eastern Australia. From its origin in Belgium, it migrated successfully (and insidiously) all over the world. It is usually an urban animal, although it can be found in rural areas as well. Like the platypus, it is primarily a nocturnal beast, but instead of being aquatic, it tends to inhabit dark, smoky bars.

This animal is quite vocal. Its mating call has enormous volume with a tremendous range of wails, growls, and grunts, which often excite the populace as much as a quarter mile away.

Whereas the platypus stuns its prey with venom, it is the saxophone’s powerful sound that produces immediate, astonishing effects. Within earshot of its wails, its victims suddenly exhibit strange head-bobbing, hip-swinging, foot-tapping body movements. With eyes closed or rolled back into the sockets, victims flail about, sweating profusely. Many try to relieve their delirium with nicotine, alcohol, and various other medications, to no avail. The uncontrollable motion lasts as long as they are under the saxophone’s sway.

There are also those sensitive souls who are allergic to the instrument. They become completely incapacitated by the sound, faint dead away, and are afflicted with excruciating pain in the ears that lasts for days or even months.

To return to the original subject, fittingly enough, there is no plural for the word platypus. Although it inhabits only a small corner of the planet, this unique beast is universally loved by Australians as a national symbol.

Opinions on the previously discussed musical animal, though it is found on all continents, are much more polarized. Although it is loved by many, there are those who carry a real grudge against Mr. Adolphe Sax. They wish most fervently that there were no plural in word or existence for the beast known as the saxophone.