Platypus Diplomacy: A Secret War

A Platypus for the PM: The Secret Tragedy of Churchill's Winston

In the bleak year of 1943, a single platypus was sent on a covert mission. This was not just any animal. It served as a diplomatic gesture, a beacon of hope, and a bespoke gift for Winston Churchill. The little creature, named Winston in his honour, embodied Australia’s appeal for unity while the Second World War engulfed the Pacific. Its trip was filled with danger, a high-stakes effort to secure the focus of the British prime minister. However, the mission was fated to fail. Winston the platypus would not survive to reach England. His strange demise, concealed by wartime secrecy and false narratives for many years, has only lately been clarified, uncovering a reality much sadder than the fiction invented to hide it.

A Statesman’s Strange Request

Winston Churchill had numerous passions, among which was a deep fascination with unusual animals. His personal collection already included lions and even a leopard. In 1943, with the globe in turmoil, he became fixated on acquiring one of Australia’s most distinctive animals: the platypus. To a European, this mammal, which lays eggs and possesses a duck's bill, an otter's frame, and a beaver's tail, appeared imaginary. Churchill, an enthusiastic collector, desired not merely one, but six. He expressed this wish to H.V. ‘Doc’ Evatt, who was Australia’s foreign minister, on a trip to London.

A Diplomatic Dilemma

For Evatt, Churchill’s request was a golden chance. Australia was feeling more and more alone as Japanese armies pushed across the Pacific. The country urgently needed to strengthen its relationship with Britain. A present of platypuses, while unconventional, might be the precise gesture required to build goodwill and ensure more substantial aid. Evatt chose to overlook Australia’s ban on exporting the protected animals, and the fact no platypus had previously endured the long sea journey, viewing them as simple logistical problems. The possible diplomatic benefits were seen as far outweighing the significant hazards of this peculiar and historic undertaking.

The Reluctant Naturalist

An acclaimed Australian naturalist, David Fleay, was tasked with procuring the animals. A pioneer in the preservation of wildlife, he was also the first individual to successfully breed a platypus under human care. Fleay, however, showed little excitement for the project. He was horrified by the thought of putting such fragile animals on a hazardous wartime trip around the world. He questioned the judgment of a global leader who could concentrate on obtaining half a dozen platypuses while humanity was in peril. His sensible and ethical objections influenced the mission right from its inception.

From Six to One

By sheer persistence, David Fleay persuaded the officials to reduce their grand design. Instead of six platypuses, one solitary, robust young male would undertake the trip. Fleay himself captured the young male in a waterway close to Melbourne. He gave the animal the name Winston, a clear homage to the man who would receive him. This settlement, Fleay wished, would lessen the chances of a catastrophe while still meeting the diplomatic goal. Attention was now on the huge task of keeping this single valuable creature alive throughout its dangerous passage to the United Kingdom. It was a trip into uncharted territory.

A Custom-Built Ark

David Fleay applied his entire knowledge to securing the young platypus's chances of survival. He conceived and built a sophisticated portable environment called a "platypusary." This structure was a triumph of cleverness. It featured burrows lined with hay and a circulating supply of water from an Australian creek to copy its home territory. Fleay knew the special requirements of the platypus better than anyone. He carefully organised every aspect of the animal's temporary dwelling, aiming to reduce the difficulties of a lengthy ocean crossing. The platypusary was more than a simple enclosure; it was a complete ecosystem created for a single occupant.

A Gourmet Diet for a Diplomat

The detailed planning also covered the platypus's specific dietary needs. An astonishing 50,000 living worms were loaded onto the disguised vessel to feed Winston during his 45-day passage. A special custard made from duck eggs was prepared as an occasional meal. A dedicated attendant was employed to look after all the animal’s needs, showing how much importance was given to the mission’s outcome. Nothing was held back in the effort to get this exceptional diplomatic offering securely to the British prime minister, a leader whose support Australia was desperate to gain. The whole diplomatic venture's success depended on the platypus.

Across Treacherous Seas

The ship's route took it into the Atlantic Ocean after passing through the Panama Canal from the Pacific. The vessel, traveling in military confidence, evaded the persistent danger of enemy submarines and warships. For a number of weeks, the operation appeared to be unfolding without issue. The platypus, residing in its meticulously managed habitat, seemed to be handling the travel well. The attendant carefully recorded its activities, feeding schedule, and the state of the platypusary. Confidence was strong that Winston would soon be a famous addition to Churchill’s collection, a living testament to Anglo-Australian solidarity.

A Fatal Failure

Just when the vessel was approaching its final port, tragedy occurred. Only a few days from the English shoreline, the young animal was discovered lifeless inside its enclosure. The mission had collapsed at the very last stage. This outcome was crushing for the crew and for everyone who had dedicated so much to this sensitive task. The logbook note for November 4, 1943, was concise and final: “Platypus found dead in water.” A powerful feeling of disappointment affected all who were involved. The vision of a platypus in London had vanished. The only thing left was to handle the consequences of this diplomatic catastrophe.

A Secret Concealed

The platypus’s death immediately raised concerns about a diplomatic fallout. The failure of such a prominent present, meant to fortify wartime connections, could have been easily taken the wrong way. To prevent public protest or political awkwardness, the entire affair—including the platypus's existence and demise—was suppressed. The official story was tightly controlled. In correspondence sent to Minister Evatt, the prime minister expressed his sorrow over the loss of the creature that was so generously provided. He noted the loss was a significant personal setback. The issue was then discreetly put to rest, and the information kept hidden for decades.

 Image Credit - BBC

The Birth of a Myth

Despite the official silence, rumours about the unsuccessful mission started to spread over time. As stories appeared in newspapers through the years, a theatrical and useful reason for the platypus’s death gained traction. The vessel, so the accounts went, had a run-in with a German submarine. The resulting storm of explosions and depth charges had supposedly killed the platypus. This "shell-shock" narrative offered a brave, almost nationalistic, reason for death. It redirected responsibility for the mishap from the caretakers to the hazards of conflict, a story that David Fleay himself would later support.

A Naturalist’s Theory

Many years after the fact, David Fleay discussed the event in his publication, Paradoxical Platypus. He used his significant credibility to back the shell-shock explanation. He proposed that a creature with such an incredibly delicate and nerve-filled beak could not endure the powerful blasts of sea combat. Fleay contended that, if not for the tragic circumstances of the conflict, a robust platypus would have made history with its safe arrival in England. His version of events helped solidify the U-boat tale in the public's mind, offering an engaging and seemingly believable cause for the tragedy for more than eighty years.

An Enduring Mystery

The narrative of the platypus that perished due to Nazi attacks was undeniably captivating. It served as a dramatic detail in the annals of the Second World War. However, for certain historians and scholars, the tale did not seem entirely correct. Doubts remained that the tidy story was a fabrication. The question of the true cause of Winston's death persisted for decades. It evolved into a historical oddity, a riddle awaiting a solution. The answer, as it happened, was concealed in forgotten archives, anticipating discovery by a fresh wave of researchers.

The Search for Truth

In the past few years, the dormant investigation into Winston's passing was revived. Harrison Croft, a PhD candidate at Monash University, began a personal quest to uncover the truth. He examined archival records held in Canberra and London. His thorough work discovered a collection of documents from the ship's personnel, which contained a conversation with the attendant tasked with the platypus's care. The attendant's account was direct and unambiguous. He was adamant that no blasts had occurred. He described the shipboard conditions as peaceful and still at the moment the animal died.

A Parallel Investigation

Meanwhile, a separate group of researchers in Sydney was also investigating the incident. David Fleay's personal collection had recently been acquired by the Australian Museum, yielding a rich source of logbooks, notes, and diagrams. The museum's staff, long fascinated by the tale, were keen to find clarification. Robert Dooley, who oversees the museum's archives, mentioned that the matter of whether the cause of Winston's death was from naval depth charges was a frequent point of discussion among his peers. A group of university interns assisted them in beginning the lengthy job of digitizing Fleay's papers, aiming to locate a conclusive piece of evidence.

Uncovering the Crucial Clue

The answer to the long-standing puzzle was not found in accounts of sea battles, but in the ordinary entries of the attendant's log. The student researchers uncovered records showing that the platypus's food portions were being cut back because the supply of live worms was dwindling during the extended trip. The decisive proof, however, came from a log of air and water temperature readings, taken daily at 8 in the morning and 6 in the evening. These figures, captured during cooler parts of the day, revealed a terrible story about the ship's onboard environment. The reality was far less dramatic than the myth.

A Far Sadder Ending

While the vessel traversed the equator for roughly a week, the log showed temperatures rising without pause. They climbed far past 27 degrees Celsius, what is now understood to be the survivable limit for a platypus. Using eighty additional years of scientific knowledge about the animal, the researchers from the University of Sydney came to a stark realisation. Winston was not killed by a submarine assault. He had, effectively, been overheated by the equatorial climate. The extended period of intense heat alone was sufficient to be fatal for the sensitive creature. The wartime tale was, as had been suspected, a useful fabrication.

Shifting the Blame

The latest findings offer a much sharper view of the probable events. One researcher, Ewan Cowan, suggested it was more convenient to blame the enemy than to confess to mistakes in the animal's care. To acknowledge that the platypus received inadequate food, or that its environment was not properly controlled, would have been to admit fault. The U-boat tale offered a handy and patriotic excuse for a sad and avoidable error. Another researcher, Paul Zaki, added that historical accounts are shaped by the narrator. The puzzle was at last put to rest.

A New Diplomatic Attempt

Australia did not abandon its efforts at platypus diplomacy. In 1947, four years after Winston’s demise, another chance came up. This time, the aim was to improve relations not with Britain, but with the United States. Following his success in having succeeded in the first captive breeding of a platypus, David Fleay persuaded Australian officials to permit the Bronx Zoo to receive three of the animals. In contrast to Winston's clandestine voyage, this trip was a significant public affair, crafted to spark the interest of the American public and promote global friendship.

Journey to the Bronx

Following some early administrative challenges, three platypuses—named Cecil, Penelope, and Betty—embarked for America. Their landing in Boston was greeted with great excitement. Upon their arrival, the three animals were supposedly transported by limousine into New York City, to be met by the Australian ambassador. The occasion was a press phenomenon, a representation of the strengthening post-war partnership between the two countries. The flags of both nations were displayed above the new platypus area at the Bronx Zoo, a clear indicator of the diplomatic ambitions associated with these three little animals. The platypuses had become global personalities.

 Image Credit - BBC

Celebrity Creatures

The platypuses rapidly rose to become the zoo's premier exhibit. Large crowds gathered hoping to see the creatures. Cecil and Penelope, especially, turned into famous figures. The media frenzy was so intense that a ceremonial wedding was suggested. Press outlets documented every detail of their lives, making the two platypuses familiar names in a metropolis charmed by their presence. Their existence was now a matter of public record.

A Reluctant Romance

Contrary to public expectation, the path of romance was not straightforward. Platypuses are reclusive by nature, and Penelope displayed minimal interest in Cecil's approaches. The press depicted Penelope as a shameless flirt who was toying with her suitor's affections due to her rejection of the supposedly heartbroken Cecil. Zookeepers made many attempts to get them to breed, but Penelope continued to be distant. For years, she evaded his advances, plunging into the water and scratching wildly any time he was put in her living space. The public stayed engrossed by the unfolding events.

A Brief Fling and a Phantom Pregnancy

In 1953, the zookeepers' persistence appeared to pay off. The two animals shared a brief, four-day encounter. This event was dramatically described by the media as a marathon of romance, sustained by large meals of worms and crayfish. Shortly after, Penelope started to show signs of nesting. The public held its breath, eagerly awaiting the birth of platypups, which would have represented an enormous breakthrough for science. Penelope received royal attention and increased food portions. The keepers waited with bated breath. The world was close to a landmark event in zoology, a credit to the excellent care she was getting.

The Great Disappointment

Four months later, before a crowd of journalists, the zookeepers at last inspected Penelope's nest. It was empty. All they found was a very unhappy-looking Penelope. She was immediately charged with pretending to be pregnant to get better food and to avoid Cecil. A researcher later described the situation as a complete debacle. Penelope's public image was permanently damaged by the incident. The story of the feigned pregnancy turned into a well-known episode in the zoo's past, causing both laughter and irritation for those who had so keenly looked forward to the birth.

The Final Escape

Some years later, in 1957, Penelope offered a last dramatic turn. She disappeared from her habitat, which initiated a search operation that lasted for weeks. The zoo’s employees searched the area and the adjacent Bronx River, but she was not located. The zoo eventually declared her missing and likely deceased. Cecil passed away the day after the official search for Penelope concluded. The media, always prepared with a romantic angle, attributed his death to heartbreak.

The End of an Era

The passing of Cecil and Penelope signaled the true conclusion of platypus diplomacy. The Bronx Zoo made another attempt at an exchange in 1958, but the replacement animals survived for less than a year. The challenges and sad outcomes linked to moving and caring for these particular creatures were too significant. Shortly thereafter, Australia strengthened its export regulations, putting an end to the practice. Since that time, only two platypuses have been sent out of the country; they have been living in the San Diego Zoo from 2019. The audacious and frequently disastrous period of using these exceptional animals as tools of diplomacy had finally drawn to a finish.