203 | The Bird God

sometimes a little of both. So it wasn't unusual for a team of researchers to discover that in three b C. The Maya people indigenous to Central America, used jewel foul extensively in their drawings and artwork. The ancient Maya had one of most advanced civilizations in the world at the time, and from the amount of artwork the researchers found, it was clear that they had a deep love for one bird in particular. In fact, researchers found it everywhere in

Maya archaeology and iconography, and even on ancient calendars. It turns out that the Maya viewed this bird as a vessel of the gods and had celebrated their featherly friend. Accordingly, much of the Maya imagery portrayed the animal as a godlike figure immensely important to their culture. The bird even stood in place of God's during their religious ceremonies. Represented as elite and gifted with power, it wasn't surprising that one Mayan ruler included the bird as part of his

royal nickname. The Mayans worship these birds and help them in such high regard that they buried them in temples and even alongside human beings, perhaps as a way for their beloved animals to offer companionship in the afterlife. Now, although the Maya practiced a culture, they didn't domesticate a lot of animals. So, in an effort to learn more about the bird's life with the Mayan culture and traditions, researchers examined the bird's bones, and this is where they

made an unexpected discovery. Yes, there was evidence to suggest that the Maya sacrificed a few of them. No one in the Maya culture was safe from the occasional sacrifice, it seems, But it was what the Maya didn't do that those researchers found so surprising. You see, none of these birds had been eaten. Of course, the Maya weren't the only people to worship birds, or even this particular bird. In fact, the same bird played a variety of roles

in the folklore of different Native American tribes. Some legends portrayed it as a wily, overly proud trickster. In other ancient tales, it's seen as a shy and elusive creature. In as Tech mythology, there's even a powerful sorcerer and bird god, whose name translates loosely as either jade bird, night bird, or sickness God, depending on the sources you read.

In ancient manuscripts, he's shown as mostly bird sporting the animals prized green plumage, and in his animal form, it said that the bird god could cleanse people of contamination, absolve them of guilt, and even alter their fate. But this deity had a dark side to him, for sure, and not just because he was mostly seen at night. In Aztec mythology, the people knew him as a formidable god of disease and plague who ruled thirteen days of

the Aztec calendar, while in his mostly human states. Ancient manuscripts and artwork that picked him, slightly bent over and with black and white eyes, an image reserved only for the evil gods, and this sacred Central American bird almost became America's national icon, losing out to the bald Eagle, much to the disappointment of Benjamin Franklin. Of course, this bird is still celebrated today, and while we don't bury them in temples, we certainly do with the Mayans. Never

did we eat them. After all, how else could we possibly celebrate Thanksgiving without the turkey. The brothers were securely tied to the table, and that's when the lights went out. Suddenly, musical instruments appeared from nowhere, seemingly playing on their own. Ghostly forms floated around the table, and unseen hands tugged at the clothing of the audience members. Gifted performers, Ira

and William Davenport were a sensation wherever they traveled. They began their stage careers in eighteen fifty five, ten years into the spiritualist movement, when Ira was sixteen and William was fourteen. Once they told friends they'd managed to levitate their sister around the family living room during a seance.

The boy's father managed them and by the end of their first year, the Davenport Brothers were performing in New York City, thrilling audiences with their complicated escapes from various knots and ropes. Their signature act, though it was called the Spirit Cabinet, About the size of a small closet, the Spirit Cabinet allowed the Davenport Brothers to work away from bright spotlights and peering eyes. Unlike other spiritualism acts at the time, the Davenports often invited audience members onto

the stage to take part in the act. A spectator was instructed to enter a third cabinet, and once inside, the door was closed. The brothers were bound and locked inside their own cabinets. Within moments, the doors of the spectator's cabinet flew open and he was ejected, his coat gone necktie around one leg, with a tambourine seated on his head. A stage assistant to open the brothers cabinets, reassuring the audience that the Davenports were still inside, securely bound,

just as they'd been moments before. Skeptics eager to debunk the Brothers as fraud were occasionally invited to tie the brothers in, often drawing blood. The ropes didn't make a difference, though. Once the cabinet doors were closed, the instruments played, filling the room with spirit music, while disembodied hands appeared through openings in the exterior walls. The Spirit Cabinet Act became a sensation, prompting spiritualist to claim proof of spirit phenomena.

Critics weren't so sure, though, and called the brothers mere magicians. The Davenports, though, never claimed to be either, saying it was up to the audience to decide. Years later, Ira befriended another magician, a man you may have heard of named Harry Houdini. After Irish death, Houdini wrote about the Davenport brothers in his book Called a Magician Amongst the Spirits. It seems Ira at once told Houdini that he and his brother had never proclaimed their belief in spiritualism in public.

Sherlock Holmes creator Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, also was a practicing spiritualist and had a different view. You see. Doyle claimed that Ira confided in him privately as well, admitting that he indeed was a practicing spiritualist. So which was it? Had Ira Davenport told the two famous men two entirely

different things. Well. The answer came in nineteen ninety eight when a skeptic investigator examined newspaper clippings, notes, and photos from the Davenport Brothers scrap book, eventually concluding that Houdini and Doyle were both right. Ira was a spiritualist, although he and his brother used effects and trickery to accomplish the deeds others attributed to spirits. But that's not really

the point, is it. From Houdini to Copperfield to modern street magic, we all like to be entertained by illusions, sleight of hand, disappearing objects, or tricks that defy logic. They sit on the edge of the believable and the absurd, but still have this power to draw us in and to fill us with delight. Whatever the motivation a performer might have, the results are often io opinning and unforgettable. It might not always be real, but it's certainly entertaining,

and sometimes that's enough, isn't it. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities Podcast dot com. The show was created by me, Aaron Manky in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.