Two birds,one story: Identifying the Exagoge’s mysterious bird

Pseudo-Eustathius

Wacholder and Bowman argue that the earliest explicit identification of the ζῷον as a Phoenix is Ps.-Eust. ¹⁸ Ps. Eust.’s Commentarius in Hexameron (Commentary on the Six Days [of Creation]) is filled with descriptions of various animals culled from numerous sources. ¹⁹ The Phoenix is found in a list describing the birds God creates on the fifth day. ²⁰ Ps.-Eust.’s description of the Phoenix derives from two sources. The first is Eusebius’s excerpts of the Exagoge; he did not have access to the entire text of the play, but only the excerpts we now possess. ²¹ His second source is the second-century C.E. ²² Achilles Tatius’s Leucippe and Clitophon, which contains a description of a Phoenix’s head copied by Ps.-Eust. ²³ Wacholder and Bowman conclude—though in language that is overly harsh, as Jacobson points out ²⁴ —“[a]s far as we can attest he was the first to have done so and did so without any justification or authority.” ²⁵ Furthermore, Ps.-Eust. has omitted the first two lines of the excerpt (“We saw something else too, a strange and remarkable creature, such as no man has ever seen before”) to give the impression that the bird was known (that is, the Phoenix). ²⁶ Ps.-Eust., then, deliberately alters the text to fit his own understanding that it describes the Phoenix.

To this argument, Jacobson replies that the lack of other Christian writers identifying this animal has two explanations. ²⁷ First, the Exagoge was an obscure text and little-read. Second, the interests Christian writers had in the Phoenix revolved around its symbolic connection to Christ’s resurrection, which the Exagoge says nothing about. ²⁸ While the failure of early Christians to identify this bird as the Phoenix may well have been due to the text’s obscurity, it does not address or dispute that it is not until Ps.-Eust. that the name “Phoenix” is first attached to the Exagoge description. In fact, his alteration of the Eusebian material to fit a Phoenix identification is positive evidence for his “tradition-welding,” where Ps.-Eust. brings together two semirelated traditions. It is therefore no coincidence that he is the first to make this identification.

Achilles Tatius

Wacholder and Bowman argue that there are no strong connections between the Phoenix of Achilles Tatius’ account and the ζῷον of the Exagoge. ²⁹ Jacobson denies this, claiming that “it is at least worth noting that his description of the Phoenix does bear some resemblance to Ezechielus, both as to the appearance of the creature and its escort of other birds.” ³⁰ A comparison between the texts, however, belies that statement. The Phoenix’s description is found in Leucippe and Clitophon III.25. ³¹ (The excerpt is too long to quote in full here.) Its size is the first potential parallel. Tatius relates that the Phoenix was comparable in size to a peacock. This is smaller than the Exagoge’s bird, which is “twice the size of an eagle” (διπλοῦν γὰρ ἦν τὸ μῆκος ἀετοῦ σχεδόν, line 256). ³² In Tatius, the Phoenix’s wings are “gold and scarlet” (χρυσῷ καὶ πορφύρᾳ). ³³ Exagoge, in line 257, mentions that πτεροῖσι ποικίλοισιν ἠδὲ χρώμασι, “[it] had multi-colored wings.” ³⁴ It would be a stretch to call two colors “multicolored.” Tatius’ description focuses on its “halo” and its behaviors, but the Exagoge makes no mention of either its habits or its corona.

The most promising potential parallel in Tatius’ account is the Phoenix’s “escort” of birds. Tatius writes that, after the elder Phoenix dies, its son carries the corpse to the Nile and

an escort of other birds accompanies him, as a bodyguard attends a migrating king, and he never fails to make straight for Heliopolis, the dead bird’s last destination. ³⁵

The Exagoge passage Jacobson has in mind is lines 265–67:

Indeed, it seemed that he was the king of all the birds. For all of them followed behind him in fear. ³⁶

Once the texts are directly compared, their connection becomes too general. In addition, the contexts are entirely different. However, the most important difference is the state of the birds following him: for Tatius, they are like a royal bodyguard (δορύϕορος), while they are instead “in fear” (δειλιάζω) in the Exagoge.

Jacobson is correct that there are parallels between Tatius and the Exagoge, but only at the most general level: its wings are more than one color, and it is surrounded by other birds. Tatius’ Phoenix has only two colors in its wings, a pale shadow of the Exagoge’s “multicolored” bird. The Exagoge’s crowd of birds is a fearful bunch, while Tatius’ birds are the opposite, standing firm as an entourage of bodyguards. Their fear and “crowding” behavior in the Exagoge is, as I argue later, best explained by the ortygometra tradition.

Hesiod, Antiphanes, and Herodotus

Wacholder and Bowman continue by arguing that the three pagan parallels (Hesiod, Herodotus, and Antiphanes) cited in support of the Phoenix identification are tenuous at best, providing no concrete connection to the Exagoge excerpt. ³⁷ Hesiod (eighth- or seventh-century B.C.E.), in a fragment preserved in Plutarch’s De defectu oraculorum (circa 95 C.E.–115 C.E.), ³⁸ focuses on the longevity of the Phoenix, along with “the lifespan of the crow, the deer, the raven, . . . , and the Nymphs.” ³⁹ In contrast, the Exagoge does not devote even a passing interest in lifespan. ⁴⁰ Likewise, Antiphanes (fourth-century B.C.E.) does not contain a description of the bird but only its habitat: “In Heliopolis, it is said, there are phoenixes.” ⁴¹ These two parallels are weak enough that Jacobson does not address them in his response.

Rather, Wacholder and Bowman and Jacobson battle over the passage in Herodotus (fifth-century B.C.E.), whose Historiae (Histories) contain a lengthy description of the Phoenix. ⁴² Wacholder and Bowman agree that the description of the Exagoge contains general connections to Herodotus’ Phoenix regarding two aspects: its variegated plumage and its size. ⁴³ Regarding its feathers, Herodotus states that “his plumage is partly golden but mostly red” (τὰ μὲν αὐτοῦ χρυσόκομα τῶν πτερῶν τὰ δὲ ἐρυθρὰ ἐς τὰ μάλιστα), ⁴⁴ while the Exagoge’s description of the creature’s wings is that they are “multicolored.” ⁴⁵ Wacholder and Bowman are correct that these descriptions are not similar enough to see them as parallel. Only the bird’s legs are described as “red” (line 259) in the Exagoge, and nothing is described as “golden.” ⁴⁶ The analogy to its size also breaks down when examined in more detail. Herodotus writes “[the Phoenix] is most like an eagle in shape and bigness” (αἰετῷ περιήγησιν ὁμοιότατος καὶ τὸ μέγαθος). ⁴⁷ Exagoge’s bird is “twice the size of an eagle.” ⁴⁸ In other words, Exagoge’s bird is twice the size of Herodotus’ Phoenix and much more colorful.

What about Jacobson’s assertion that, even if the details do not directly match, the parallel between Herodotus and the Exagoge is still noteworthy, because “it means that the only two descriptive features in Herodotus’s account are also present in Ezechielus’s”? ⁴⁹ Although a defensible claim, it is also a double-edged sword. It reduces the argument to a generality. Both texts draw from a common source because they both describe the size and colors, but are neither the same size nor the same color. Such a parallel is too weak.

Jewish parallels

Wacholder and Bowman argue that known Jewish parallels also are limited ⁵⁰ and of uncertain date. 3 Baruch’s Phoenix only parallels the Exagoge in its comment about a “wondrous” voice; its details find more parallel in later pagan and Christian texts. ⁵¹ 2 Enoch ⁵² contains a description that seems promising:

2 Enoch 12 bears a closer resemblance to Ezechielus than any other ancient text. In both the creatures described are strange and wonderful, both are multi-colored and winged. ⁵³

But:

[T]he differences are considerable: here the phoenixes are solar spirits, their size astronomic; they are multi-zoomorphic and twelve-winged. Manifestly the phoenixes in 2 Enoch are part of the lore associated with the antediluvian sage’s flight up to heaven. Moreover, they are not connected with the Exodus. It is unlikely that these two texts are literarily related. ⁵⁴

Once again, the parallels are too weak and their interests are far afield of the Exagoge’s. ⁵⁵ (Jacobson does not address these arguments either, perhaps recognizing their weakness.)

Hence, of Wacholder and Bowman’s arguments that Jacobson addresses above, none of them are satisfactorily dispatched; their doubt about the ζῷον’s identification as a Phoenix remains standing. Wacholder and Bowman’s identification of Ps.-Eust. as the origin of the Phoenix identification in the Exagoge passage is self-evidently correct. So too does the lengthy passage in Achilles Tatius yield no specific connections between it and the Exagoge, with the most promising parallel (the crowd of birds) also ending up imperfect. All three pagan parallels are too general. Jewish texts describing the Phoenix also lack specificity.

The location of the Phoenix in the Exagoge

Jacobson’s other arguments are on more solid ground, but deal with only tangential concerns—none of them are decisive for the Phoenix identification. He defends the possibility that the Exagoge’s author drew on pagan sources, ⁵⁶ which, considering the Greek Egyptian context, would be expected (or at least unsurprising). ⁵⁷ Jacobson’s final arguments explain the potential rationale behind the author’s placement of the Phoenix in the narrative. ⁵⁸ His full-length commentary produces these arguments at greater length, and the discussion raises several points that will be important in the development of this argument.

The Phoenix passage is inextricably linked with the fragment that precedes it, which discusses the oasis of Elim. Two issues in the passage of Elim and the Phoenix are relevant here:

(1) What motivated Ezekiel to introduce the Phoenix in his narrative of the Exodus and to what purpose? (2) Why did he associate the Phoenix with Elim? ⁵⁹

Its narrative location is the first question. Van den Broek lists several of these theories. ⁶⁰ Louis Ginzberg proposes that the Phoenix acted as a guide to the twelve springs at Elim, since “in legends birds are frequently spoken of as guides to water.” ⁶¹ As Jacobson notes, however, the discovery of Elim precedes the appearance of the Phoenix. ⁶² Most other proposals can be classified according to the idea of the Phoenix as a “good omen.” Both H. Kuiper and J. Weineke, editors of the original fragments, associated discussions about the Phoenix’s appearance with the reign of Ptolemy III Euergetes. ⁶³ B. Snell goes further and suggests that the Phoenix served to foretell the Israelites’ capture of the Promised Land. ⁶⁴ Jean Hubaux and Maxime Leroy, in their own study of the Phoenix myth, argue for the association with the manna and the quail in the desert. ⁶⁵

Van den Broek himself agrees with the “good omen” reading, seeing the commemorated event as the exodus. ⁶⁶ Jacobson likewise notes that the Exodus is a sort of “rebirth” for the Jewish people, much as the Phoenix dies and is reborn. ⁶⁷ He also adduces some calendrical evidence that corresponds to a (disputed) mention of the month of Nisan in the Physiologus’s account of the Phoenix in which it is supposed that the finding of the oasis at Elim takes place at Nisan. ⁶⁸ Ultimately, most scholars are in agreement that the Phoenix is a herald of some sort and have produced several potential candidates—though what exactly the event is, is still debatable.

How the Phoenix and Elim are connected, beyond the broad association between the Exodus event and the Phoenix, is the second question. Jacobson provides three major reasons. ⁶⁹ First, at the broadest level, the Phoenix is often spotted in “paradisaical types of places.” ⁷⁰ Second, Greek sources often fill paradises with birds. ⁷¹ Third, there is an orthographic similarity between the terms φοῖνιξ, “palm-tree,” and φοῖνιξ, “Phoenix.” ⁷² Samuel Bochart is the genesis of this argument, found in his Hierozoicon, where he supposes the Exagoge author “took advantage” of the resemblance. ⁷³ Other authors, as van den Broek attests, note the similarity as well. ⁷⁴ Hubaux and Leroy recall the argument that a orthographic correspondence occurs in Hebrew, with the word for “sand” (חוֹל) and the later rabbinic understanding of the word “Phoenix” (חוֹל). ⁷⁵ Jacobson, in a fortuitous comment (as I shall show), states that Hubaux and Leroy have “transformed the quail episode into a Phoenix story.” ⁷⁶

One last issue concerns the opening line of the section, which reads: ἕτερον δὲ πρὸς τοῖσδ᾽ εἴδομεν ζῷον ξένον, (“We saw something else too, a strange and remarkable creature.”) Some have taken ἕτερον, “other,” to suppose that there was “another” creature introduced in the missing section and this Phoenix is a second (ἕτερον, “other”) creature. ⁷⁷ Jacobson notes, however, several features militate against this reading. ⁷⁸ It is unlikely that those who preserved these fragments would have skipped from Elim to the Phoenix to avoid another fantastic beast. ⁷⁹ Furthermore, Polyhistor (or Eusebius) implies only a short length between the Elim episode and the Phoenix episode. ⁸⁰ Finally, ἕτερος being used in this fashion is found elsewhere, and does not necessarily imply “something else.” ⁸¹

There are two essential questions to ask about the Phoenix passage: “why this creature here, in the story?” and “why here at Elim?” To the first, the consensus has been that it is only the Phoenix (contra those who would see ἕτερον as implying another creature in the narrative) and that the Phoenix generally marks auspicious occasions. The answer to the second is more complicated and less certain but may involve both a verbal parallel (φοῖνιξ-tree and φοῖνιξ-bird) and a conceptual one (the paradisaical Elim).

Wacholder and Bowman’s proposal: the Eagle ⁸²

Before offering my own proposal, I need to discuss Wacholder and Bowman’s own solution to the puzzle, having cast so much doubt upon the Phoenix. They agree that the most natural reading is of a winged creature, but do not necessitate a Phoenix, or even a bird. ⁸³ Instead, they propose an eagle. ⁸⁴ Their issues with the Phoenix identification having already been laid out earlier, they rally the proof for identification.

They note the chariot vision in Ezekiel 1, stating that the ζῷον in the biblical vision includes the head of an eagle. ⁸⁵ In quick succession, they further argue that: The “shining eye” reflects Ezek. 1:27; the voice, the sounds in Ezek. 1:24–25; the eagle is the “king of all birds” and that God is viewed as a king; and the bull, to which the creature is compared, is a symbol of divinity. ⁸⁶ Jacobson, however, responds to their evidence, and demonstrates the difficulty with such an identification. ⁸⁷ He notes the parallel with Ezekiel’s ζῷον is tenuous: the connections made to the head and eye are loose readings of the text; the loud sound is not a “voice,” but a commotion; the use of the vision-text would be inapt, since it would bring to mind the destruction of Jerusalem; and the specific verbal connections to Ezek. 1 are either too general or nonexistent. ⁸⁸ (He successfully uses the same critique that Wacholder and Bowman had of his arguments—that general parallels are not strong enough once compared at the verbal level.)

More complex arguments follow. Wacholder and Bowman’s next parallel is the prophetic vision in Ezek. 17:3: “a large eagle [with] large wings, long of limb, full-feathered, and multi-colored came to Lebanon and took the top of the cedar.” ⁸⁹ They see a parallel in Exagoge, line 256 (“He was about twice the size of an eagle”). ⁹⁰ The colors of the Exagoge’s bird seem to find correspondence particularly in the priestly garments of Ezek 16:10–13. ⁹¹ In addition, they point out the metaphor of God bearing Israel “on eagle’s wings.” ⁹² Hence:

It seems likely that Ezechielus’s depiction of the ζῷον fuses elements of his prophetic namesake from 17:3 with 16:10–12. In Ezek 17:3, as cited above, the very large eagle symbolized Nebuchadnezzar but for Ezechielus it becomes a metaphor for God which the poet embroiders with the colors of Ezek 16:10–13. ⁹³

Of all these arguments, Jacobson grants only the parallel that the eagle was, as Exagoge line 265 states, the “king of all birds.” ⁹⁴ For all of the remaining parallels, Jacobson points out that the colors are not exclusive to the priestly garments, the connection between “God as ruler” and “eagle as king” is a non-sequitur, and the connection between the priestly garments and God’s actions vis-à-vis Israel is nonexistent. ⁹⁵ The most decisive piece of evidence, however, is that the comparison to an eagle (“twice the size of an eagle,” line 256) is stated in such a way as to imply that the creature is not an eagle.

Taking Stock

This section of the paper has sought to outline the argument between Howard Jacobson on one side and Wacholder and Bowman on the other regarding the Phoenix identification. Wacholder and Bowman’s article makes valid arguments even after Jacobson’s formidable assault. The late identification (by Ps.-Eust.) with the Phoenix is not dispositive, but it is not as solid as one might otherwise like. Other parallels in ancient authors—Achilles Tatius, Hesiod, Herodotus, and Antiphanes—fail to produce specific verbal parallels, causing the argument to be reduced to vague generalities and leaving the door open for another animal.

Next, I discussed the animal’s placement in the narrative, addressing two related questions: “why here in the narrative?” and “why here in the desert wanderings?” While authors (who accept the Phoenix identification) agree that the Phoenix acts as an auspicious herald, precisely what is being heralded is a matter of some dispute. Most commentators are more unified in their understanding of the Phoenix-Elim connection, including the “paradisaical” nature of Elim and the wordplay between φοῖνιξ, “palm-tree,” and φοῖνιξ, “Phoenix.” These authors all recognize the connection between the Exagoge’s ζῷον and the quail narratives, but few of them capitalize on that connection to help identify it. This is important for understanding the roots of my own identification of the animal as an ortygometra.

Finally, Wacholder and Bowman’s own proposal, the eagle, was discussed. On this argument, Jacobson has the upper hand: The connections with LXX-Ezekiel are either nonexistent or general, with the most conclusive evidence being the absurdity of comparing an animal to itself (that is, “an eagle twice the size of an eagle”). Despite the weakness of their own proposal, they successfully “defend the gap” in their article, leaving it open to be filled with another proposal. It is to that proposal I turn next.

Masoretic text (MT)

Two narrative stories involving quail occur in the Pentateuch. (For ease of reference, the story in Exod 16 will be referred to as the “first quail narrative” and the story in Num 11, the “second quail narrative.”) The first quail incident is found in Exodus 16. ¹¹² Exod 14, two chapters before, describes the Israelite’s escape from Egypt. After the Song of the Sea (15:1–21), the Israelites begin their desert journey in 15:22. ¹¹³ They first go through the wilderness of Shur (מִדְבַּר שׁוּר, ‎ 15:22) to Marah (מָרָה,‎15:23), where Moses cleansed the bitter water (15:24–25a). They next journey to Elim (אֵילִם,‎15:27), memorably described as being “where there were twelve springs of water and seventy palm trees” (וְשָׁם שְׁתֵּים עֶשְׂרֵה עֵינֹת מַיִם וְשִׁבְעִים תְּמָרִים), where they camped “near the water” (עַל־הַמָּיִם,‎15:27). Finally, they move to the wilderness of Sin (מִדְבַּר־סִין,‎16:1).

In the wilderness of Sin—specifically, “between Elim and Sinai” (בֵּין־אֵילִם וּבֵין סִינָי,‎16:1)—the first quail episode takes place. Israel “grumbles” (לוּן) against Moses and Aaron (16:2) ¹¹⁴ and longingly remembers how they ate meat and bread in Egypt (16:3). Exod 16:4–12 contains Moses’ specific instructions regarding the manna and how God has heard their grumbling, closing with the appearance of the pillar of cloud and a reiteration that he will provide sustenance for them. In Exod 16:13, the quail and the manna first appear:

In the evening quails (הַשְּׂלָו) came up and covered the camp; and in the morning dew (הַטַּל) lay round about the camp. ¹¹⁵

וַיְהִי בָעֶרֶב וַתַּעַל הַשְּׂלָו וַתְּכַס אֶת־הַמַּחֲנֶה וּבַבֹּקֶר הָֽיְתָה שִׁכְבַת הַטַּל סָבִיב לַמַּחֲנֶה

No additional narrative space is spent on the quail, with the remainder of the chapter focused on the manna. ¹¹⁶ In this narrative, the quail appears to be little more than an afterthought to the miracle of the manna, though their sudden appearance implies a similarly miraculous source. ¹¹⁷ This story, as it stands, provides the relative location (after Elim but before Sinai), “grumbling,” manna, quail, and dew.

The second quail incident is found in Num 11. ¹¹⁸ This narrative is intertwined with the story of elders and prophets, though the stories are self-contained and contain little in the way of cross-over. ¹¹⁹ In the chapter opening, they make “three days’ journey” (דֶּרֶךְ שְׁלֹשֶׁת יָמִים, Num 10:33) from Sinai. Once again, the people complain again about missing the plethora of food they had in Egypt, fantasizing about the diversity of vegetables and complaining about the manna (11:4–6). Moses then complains to God about the people (11:10–15). In response (11:18–20), God threatens:

¹⁸ Therefore the Lord will give you meat, and you shall eat. ¹⁹ You shall not eat one day, or two days, or five days, or ten days, or twenty days, ²⁰ but a whole month, until it comes out at your nostrils and becomes loathsome to you, because you have rejected the Lord who is among you, and have wept before him, saying, “Why did we come forth out of Egypt?”

Moses responds skeptically (11:21–22), but, after all this, the quail appear (11:31–32):

³¹ And there went forth a wind from the Lord, and it brought quails from the sea (שַׂלְוִים מִן־הַיָּם), and let them fall beside the camp, about a day’s journey on this side and a day’s journey on the other side, round about the camp, and about two cubits above the face of the earth (וּכְאַמָּתַיִם עַל־פְּנֵי הָאָרֶץ).‎ ³² And the people rose all that day, and all night, and all the next day, and gathered the quails (וַיַּֽאַסְפוּ אֶת־הַשְּׂלָו); he who gathered least gathered ten homers; and they spread them out for themselves all around the camp.

This is followed by divine punishment (11:33–34):

³³ While the meat was yet between their teeth, before it was consumed, the anger of the Lord was kindled against the people, and the Lord smote the people with a very great plague. ^{120 34} Therefore the name of that place was called Kib′roth-hatta′avah (קִבְרוֹת הַתַּאֲוָה, “graves of greed”), because there they buried the people who had the craving (קָֽבְר֔וּ אֶת־הָעָ֖ם הַמִּתְאַוִּֽים).

Unlike the first quail incident, the second dwells more on the gathering of the meat and includes a subsequent divine punishment. ¹²¹ The closer integration between the grumbling of the Israelites and their punishment, unlike most other “grumbling” stories, implies a later, more developed version of the tradition. ¹²²

In the broadest terms, the two narratives are similar: Wandering in the desert, the people complain and receive bread (manna) and meat (quail). However, in their specifics, the differences are clear. Most obviously, they occur at different chronological points in the desert wanderings (pre-Sinai for the first, post-Sinai for the second), and hence in different geographical locations. Manna, quail, and dew occur simultaneously in the first, but in the second, the manna and dew (Num 11:7–9) precede the quail, which answers further complaining about meat. The first narrative displays little interest in the quail, outside of their miraculous provision, while in the second, the gift of meat (sourced “from the water”) is followed by punishment that names the location in which the event occurs.

LXX

Throughout the LXX, “ὀρτυγομήτρα,” literally “quail-mother” (ὄρτυξ, “quail” + μήτηρ, “mother”), is the LXX’s only translation of שְׂלָו. ¹²³

LXX-Exodus is considered consistent enough to propose the same translator throughout—even the problematic freedom throughout the latter half of the book (LXX-Exod 35–40)—though “another hand may be at work in some way in the final chapters of the translation.” ¹²⁴ It is thought to follow its Hebrew Vorlage faithfully. ¹²⁵

In the first quail incident, the order of events is the same, culminating in LXX-Exod 16:13:

So evening came, and ortygometra (ὀρτυγομήτρα) came up and covered the camp. Then morning came, when the dew (τῆς δρόσου) was lifting around the camp. ¹²⁶

Morning is marked with the cessation (καταπαύω) of the dew instead of MT’s note that “there was a layer of dew around the camp” (שִׁכְבַת הַטַּל סָבִיב לַמַּחֲנֶה).

LXX-Numbers is considered a mostly-literal translation with a Vorlage similar to the MT. ¹²⁷ The second quail incident is identical to its Hebrew counterpart:

³¹ And a wind went out from the Lord, and it brought ortygometra (ὀρτυγομήτραν) from the sea (ἀπὸ τῆς θαλάσσης), and it cast them upon the camp, a day’s journey on this side and a day’s journey on the other side, all around the camp, about two cubits in height from the ground. ³² And the people rose up all the day and all the night and all the next day and gathered the ortygometra (ὀρτυγομήτραν). He who gathered little gathered ten kors, and they dried them for themselves with dryings around the camp. ³³ The meat was still between their teeth before it expired, and the Lord became angry against the people, and the Lord struck among the people with a very great plague (μεγάλην σφόδρα). ³⁴ And the name of that place was called Tombs of Craving (μνήματα τῆς ἐπιθυμίας), because there they buried the people that craved (τὸν λαὸν τὸν ἐπιθυμητήν).

The LXX once again uses ὀρτυγομήτρα to translate שְׂלָו. “Ἐπιθυμία,” “craving,” translates Hebrew תַּאֲוָה (“craving”) in the placename commemorating the slaughter.

Vulgate

The Vulgate of both Exodus ¹²⁸ and Numbers is considered to follow the MT. ¹²⁹ Both quail stories use the common word coturnix (“quail”). Where the victims are buried is termed the sepulchra concupiscentiae, “graves of desire” (Vul-Num 11:34).

Section in Summary

In summary, two related but distinct quail stories, in which the people complain and receive bread and meat, occur in the Pentateuch. The first quail incident (Exod 16) occurs after their departure from Elim and evinces little interest in the quail, which are restricted to one verse (Exod 16:13) but are nonetheless noteworthy for their miraculous appearance. In the second quail incident (Num 11), after the departure from Sinai, the quail is more integrated with their context, being the vehicle for a punishment from God. After the punishment, its victims are commemorated with a placename. The LXX and Vulgate do not diverge from the core narratives, introducing the key terms ὀρτυγομήτρα (“ortygometra”), ἐπιθυμία (“craving”), and concupiscentia (“desire”), though the Vulgate chooses the more common coturnix (“quail”) as the name for the birds.

Psa 105(LXX 104):40

The Hebrew Bible contains several (extra-Pentateuchal) exegeses of the quail incidents. However, the only Psalm in which the term שְׂלָו appears is Psa 105(104). Much like Pss 78 and 106, this psalm contains a “selective review of Israel’s history, here with the accent on Yahweh’s work on his people’s behalf and his faithfulness to his ancient promise.” ¹³¹ This context, of God’s fulfillment of his promises to Israel, colors the events in a flattering light. Psa 104(105):40 focuses on the quail incidents:

They asked, and he brought quails, and gave them bread from heaven in abundance.

שָׁאַ֣ל וַיָּבֵ֣א שְׂלָ֑ו וְלֶ֥חֶם מַ֗יִם יַשְׂבִּיעֵֽם׃

Although in both quail stories the Israelites “grumble” (לוּן), Psa 105(104):40 chooses the much more charitable “ask” (שָׁאַל). Its minimalism obscures which quail narrative the psalmist has in mind, but seems to reflect the first quail narrative—not only because of ideological alignment (seeing the quail event positively), but also because no punishment follows the provision of quail.

LXX-Psalms, though not precisely dated, probably postdate the translation of the Pentateuch and predate (or was produced contemporaneously with) much of the remaining Greek translations of the wisdom literature, placing it around the second-century B.C.E. ¹³² Its translation often corresponds strictly with its Hebrew source text, though it exercises occasional freedom. ¹³³

Such is the case with LXX-Psa 104:40: “They asked, and ortygometra (ὀρτυγομήτρα) came, and with heaven’s bread he filled them.” While the general sense of the passage is the same, the Psalm’s agency differs (“[God] brought” in MT versus “ortygometra came”), and MT-Psa 105’s “שָׂבַע” (“to satisfy”) becomes ἐμπίμπλημι, “to fill.” Nonetheless, even with these alterations, the first quail incident still shines through, as there is no punishment that follows.

Jerome produced two Latin translations of the Psalms. The first, the so-called Gallican psalter, was based on the Greek text found in the Hexapla, ¹³⁴ while the second, the Iuxta Hebraeos, was based on the Hebrew text. ¹³⁵ At Psa 105(104):40, when translating שְׂלָו, “quail,” in the Gallican psalter, Jerome uses the term coturnix, but in the Iuxta Hebraeos, he uses the term ortygometra. Although he does not explain his vocabulary choice, it is possible that the word was present in the Old Latin and kept by Jerome; as Oliver Norris notes regarding his Hebrew psalter: “Jerome often maintains the text as found in the Old Latin Psalter, perhaps subconsciously, even sometimes employing Old Latin formulations that he had rejected in the composition of the Hexaplaric Psalter.” ¹³⁶

In summary, Psa 105(104) is a brief recounting of the first quail incident. It does not expand or elaborate on the event, other than providing a positive “spin.” The LXX translation, in keeping with the LXX psalter in general, retains the essence of the underlying MT, making small (but noticeable) grammatical adjustments; it also keeps the term “ὀρτυγομήτρα.” Finally, Jerome’s two translations take two divergent approaches, one (the revision of the Greek psalter) that conforms to the use of coturnix in the original events, while the other transliterates ortygometra.

De vita Mosis I.37–38

Philo was a Hellenistic Jewish philosopher living around the first-century C.E. ¹³⁷ His two-volume work De Vita Mosis (On the Life of Moses) is considered apologetic in nature ¹³⁸ and may have served to introduce his cycle of works called “The Exposition of the Law,” a set of writings meant to find the logic, purpose, and basis of the Pentateuch through a Greek philosophical lens. ¹³⁹

In I.37–38, Philo addresses the quail incidents:

In the evenings a continuous cloud of ortygometra (ὀρτυγομητρών νέφος συνεχὲς) appeared from the sea (ἐκ θαλάττης) and overshadowed the whole camp, flying close to the land, so as to be an easy prey. So they caught and dressed them, each according to his tastes, and feasted on flesh of the most delicious kind, thus obtaining the relish required to make their food more palatable. Though this supply of food never failed and continued to be enjoyed in abundance, a serious scarcity of water again occurred. ¹⁴⁰

Philo’s exegesis contains elements of both quail narratives. While the origin (ἐκ θαλάττης, “from the sea”) is derived from the second quail narrative, the lack of explicit punishment recalls the first quail narrative. He mixes a naturalistic explanation with a miraculous one. On one hand, he provides a plausible method by which they were caught (“flying close to the land, so as to be an easy prey”). On the other hand, for him, there were not only one or two quail episodes, but a “continuous cloud of ortygometra” (ὀρτυγομητρών νέφος συνεχὲς) that supplied the Israelites with meat during their entire desert journey—which implies a miraculous provision.

LAB 10:7

LAB (“The Book of Biblical Antiquities,” also known by the name Pseudo-Philo ¹⁴¹ ) is a first-century document that aims to retell the history of Israel from Adam to David, “imaginatively” retelling large swaths of the biblical text. ¹⁴² It may have been composed in Hebrew, but only the Latin text (which is probably a translation from an intermediate Greek version) survives today. ¹⁴³

By its tenth chapter, LAB has already reached the book of Exodus in its retelling of the biblical narrative. Its placement reflects the first quail narrative, occurring after the liberation from the Egyptians (10:2–6) ¹⁴⁴ and before the giving of the Law on Sinai:

He led his people out into the wilderness; for forty years he rained down for them bread from heaven and brought ortygometra to them from the sea (ortigometram adduxit eis de mari) and brought forth a well of water to follow them. ¹⁴⁵

Although not attributable to the historical Philo of Alexandria, Ps.-Philo’s exegesis in this passage contains parallels to the exegesis given above: The origin, “from the sea” (de mari), reflects the second quail narrative, but its positive nature parallels the first. It is unlikely that it reflects knowledge or acceptance of Philo’s exegesis, however, since the former insists on a scarcity of water, but Ps.-Philo discusses a mobile water well.

Wisdom of Solomon

Wisdom of Solomon, a deuterocanonical book, is an exhortatory discourse that can be dated to the first-century C.E. ¹⁴⁶ It was originally composed in Greek. ¹⁴⁷ Its reinterpretation of the Exodus story has garnered much interest. ¹⁴⁸ From Wisdom 11 onward, the text acts as a “compare-contrast” between God’s treatment of the Israelites and his treatment of the Egyptians. ¹⁴⁹ One such action—beneficence for the Israelites contrasted with punishment for the Egyptians—is his provision of quail. Twice the story is used, both times for different purposes. It first appears at Wisdom 16:1–3:

¹ Therefore [the Egyptians] were fittingly punished by similar creatures and were tormented by a swarm of insects. ² Instead of this punishment, you benefited your people with a novel dish (ξένην γεῦσιν), the delight they craved (εἰς ἐπιθυμίαν ὀρέξεως), by preparing ortygometra (ἡτοίμασας ὀρτυγομήτραν) for their food, ³ So that those others [i.e. Egyptians], when they desired (ἐπιθυμοῦντες) food, should lose their appetite even for necessities, since the creatures sent to plague them were so loathsome, while these [i.e. Israelites], after a brief period of privation, partook of a novel dish (ξένης μετάσχωσι γεύσεως). ¹⁵⁰

Wisdom’s shaping of the quail narrative here is unique. First, the provision of ὀρτυγομήτρα from nature is contrasted with the punishment, also from nature, of Egyptian idolators (the ten plagues). ¹⁵¹ Second, Wisdom does not refer to it as simply “meat” or “food” but rather a “novel dish” (ξένην γεῦσιν; twice, v. 2 and 3). Third, despite the clear echo of the second quail narrative here (“the delight they craved,” εἰς ἐπιθυμίαν ὀρέξεως, compare Num 11:34), the punishment is ignored. Fourth, unlike the other retellings, God is said to “prepare” (ἡτοίμασας) the ortygometra. “Preparation” casts the decision to send quail as a foreordained choice rather than because of their request. ¹⁵² Fifth, Wisdom’s focus is on the delicious taste of the dish, to contrast with the “odiousness” (εἰδέχθεια) of the Egyptians’ circumstances. ¹⁵³ Ultimately, the description of the ὀρτυγομήτρα given in Wisdom 16 is unlike any other interpretation thus far.

With Wisdom 19:10, the focus of the book shifts from antitheses to a few brief mentions of God’s providence for the Israelites. ¹⁵⁴ Wisdom 19:10–12 returns to the quail, focusing on God’s miraculous provision of quail:

¹⁰ For [the Israelites] were still mindful of what had happened in their sojourn: how instead of the young of animals the land brought forth gnats, and instead of fishes the river swarmed with countless frogs. ¹¹ And later they saw also a new kind of bird (γένεσιν νέαν ὀρνέων) when, prompted by desire (ἐπιθυμίᾳ), they asked for pleasant foods (ἐδέσματα τρυφῆς) ¹² For to appease them ortygometra (ὀρτυγομήτρα) came to them from the sea (ἐκ θαλάσσης). ¹⁵⁵

This passage from Wisdom builds on insights from the previous passage. The ten plagues are once again compared to the ὀρτυγομήτρα, but favorably (as signs of God’s power over creation) instead of unfavorably. The ὀρτυγομήτρα is called “a new kind of bird” (γένεσιν νέαν ὀρνέων), an appellation not yet found in the exegesis of the passage. Again the second quail narrative is alluded to, in 19:11 (ἐπιθυμίᾳ, “desire”) and 19:12 (ἐκ θαλάσσης, “from the sea”), but there is no subsequent punishment. That “desire” is connected to a request for “pleasant foods” (ἐδέσματα τρυφῆς, 19:11), fulfilled by the ὀρτυγομήτρα in v. 12.

Wisdom of Solomon represents an innovative departure from the traditional exegesis of the ὀρτυγομήτρα. Both Wis 16 and 19 emphasize the “novelty” of the creature, both in its taste (16:2, 3) and as a bird (19:11). The “desire” of the second quail narrative is transformed into the desire for delicious foods, which God grants (rather than punishing them). Its ὀρτυγομήτρα is almost unrecognizable from its other narratives. The ὀρτυγομήτρα tradition as seen here makes more sense when juxtaposed with the Exagoge and De mirabilibus (which will be discussed below) than with the traditions already covered.

I briefly mention here the Latin translation of Wisdom, which is important for its vocabulary. Although sometimes erroneously attributed to Jerome, the text of Wisdom found in the Vulgate is not his, but is identical with the Old Latin text, which follows the LXX text closely. ¹⁵⁶ It contains the same satellite of Latin vocabulary found in Exod 16 and Num 11 (concupiscentia, de mari, and so on), though it uses the transliteration “ortygometra” to refer to quail, instead of coturnix.

De mirabilibus Sacrae Scripturae XXVII

Written in 655 C.E. ¹⁵⁷ by an author that refers to himself as “Augustinus” ¹⁵⁸ —and whom scholars have dubbed “Augustinus Hibernicus,” ¹⁵⁹ “Irish Augustine,” ¹⁶⁰ or “Pseudo-Augustine” (Ps.-Aug.) ¹⁶¹ —De mirabilibus Sacrae Scripturae (On the Miracles of Sacred Scripture) is a noteworthy Hiberno-Latin exegetical text. ¹⁶² This three-part work (covering the Pentateuch, the Prophets, and the New Testament) clearly states its goal in the preamble:

The main purpose of all this work is to show that in all things in which something appears to be done (aliquid factum videtur) beyond daily administration [i.e., a “miracle”], God does not make a new nature there (non novam ibi Deum facere naturam) but demonstrates that He governs the selfsame one He created in the beginning (in principio). ¹⁶³

In other words, God’s interaction with His creation builds on their natural properties instead of changing or destroying those properties. ¹⁶⁴ This concern mirrors those in the writings of the historical Augustine of Hippo, suggesting the pseudonym was purposefully chosen. ¹⁶⁵ Such a choice was also fortuitous in its preservation, as the association with Augustine clearly aided the spread and influence of De mirabilibus. ¹⁶⁶

In De mirabilibus XVII, Ps.-Aug. discusses the food given to the Israelites in their desert wanderings. After summarizing the opening to the second quail narrative (Num 11), he describes the ortygometra in what appears to be an attempt to explain the presence of the unusual Latin transliteration in the biblical text from Wis 16 and 19:

He [God] introduced the ortygometra (ortygometram inseruit), which the people, gathering, ate for a whole month, that is, for thirty days. But revenge for the unbelieving murmuring followed. For in that place, before the people left, those who had lusted were buried by the anger of the Lord. Surely in this nothing new or contrary to nature was given by the Lord, who once created a “creation of birds” (creaturam avium) and hid it in a hidden corner of the world, to seem provide for the needs of his people (qui olim creaturam avium conditam, et in abdito mundi quodam angulo reconditam, in necessitate populi sui praestare videtur). However, it is written in the book of Wisdom: “They saw a new creation of birds” (novam creaturam avium viderunt, Wis 19:11). Of course, [this means that] it was only shown recently, not created recently (nuper utique ostensam, non nuper creatam). What God once created with the rest of the creatures in the beginning, this he served to his people in the time of their need (quod olim Deus cum caeteris creaturis in principio condidit, hoc in tempore necessitatis plebi suae ministravit). ¹⁶⁷

Unlike the other exegeses covered above, Ps.-Aug. is focused on the phrase describing the ortygometra a “new creation of birds” (novam creaturam avium) in the Wisdom of Solomon. In alignment with his mission in the treatise, he feels obliged to explain the use of novus close to the term ortygometra, since, after all, he wishes to limit novel divine action to the six days of Creation. His solution here is simple but profound: It was “new” to the Israelites, but neither to God nor the world, having been created at the beginning of time and hidden away in a “secret place.”

It is critical to note here that he does not treat ortygometra as a mere synonym for coturnix. If it were, no explanation of the ortygometra would be necessary. Indeed, he takes seriously that it was a “new” bird, and that it was seen during the desert wanderings of the Israelites.

Ps.-Aug., however, goes further than necessary. The problem would disappear with the answer that it was not new to God but new to the Israelites. But go further he does, and in doing so reveals an intriguing development of the ortygometra tradition. He describes how the ortygometra was “hid[den] in a hidden corner of the world” (in abdito mundi quodam angulo reconditam) and how “God created [it] once with the rest of the creatures in the beginning” (olim Deus cum caeteris creaturis in principio). Then, he twice explains God’s purpose for doing so. First, he provides the rationale for God’s action in the beginning: “to provide for the needs of his people” (in necessitate populi sui praestare). He follows this by explaining what happened: “This [bird] he served to his people in the time of their need” (hoc in tempore necessitatis plebi suae ministravit). In other words, God created this creature at the beginning of time, and—foreknowing that he would need to provide for the needs of his people—hid it away; while the Israelites were in the desert, he then pulled the bird from hiding to serve it to his people.

These latter phrases have no parallel with the other ortygometra texts discussed above. They do, however, find connection with a different set of texts: material making up the so-called “combat-banquet” tradition. In this tradition, Behemoth and Leviathan—a pair of creatures found in the final divine speech of Job in Job 40–41 ¹⁶⁸ —were (at some primordial point in time) separated from one another, placed in distinct domains (dry land or water), and will serve (at some eschatological point in time) as food for the righteous. ¹⁶⁹ This tradition is found in three particular texts: 4 Ezra 6:49–52, 2 Baruch 29:4, and 1 Enoch 60:7–10. ¹⁷⁰ 4 Ezra—whose Latin translation enjoyed widespread popularity and is the most germane to the text—contains strong verbal similarity to the aforementioned phrases in De mirabilibus. Ultimately, they indicate that either Ps.-Aug. or his source(s)—but not, crucially, Wisdom, the text he was exegeting—introduced the ortygometra into this combat-banquet matrix, either directly or indirectly implying that the bird was a legendary beast like Behemoth and Leviathan.

4 Ezra, a pseudepigraphic text in which the biblical Ezra receives visions and engages in a “dialogue-dispute” with God—is dated to the first-century C.E. ¹⁷¹ It survives in eight different translations, all stemming from a Greek translation made from a no-longer-extant Hebrew original. ¹⁷² The Latin translation had the greatest spread, due to its presence in many copies of the Vulgate (as part of a composite work titled 4 Esdras). ¹⁷³

Ezra’s third vision recounts (with additions) the six days of Creation, couched in the language of a prayer (and thus in second person). ¹⁷⁴ In one key excerpt, Ezra describes how Behemoth and Leviathan were created on the fifth day (6:49–52):

⁴⁹ Then thou didst preserve (conservasti) two living creatures which you created; the name of one thou didst call Behemoth and the name of the other Leviathan. ⁵⁰ And thou didst separate one from the other, for the seventh part where the water had been gathered together could not hold them both (non enim poterat septima pars ubi erat aqua congregata capere ea). ⁵¹ And thou didst give Behemoth one of the parts which had been dried up on the third day, to live in it, where there are a thousand mountains; ⁵² but to Leviathan thou didst give the seventh part of the watery part; and thou hast kept them to be eaten by whom thou wilt, and when thou wilt (et servasti ea, ut fiant in devorationem quibus vis et quando vis). ¹⁷⁵

This excerpt reflects the general structure of the tradition: termed the “two living creatures” (duas animas, 6:49a), they are separated from one another soon after their creation (6:49b–50), with Behemoth sent to the “thousand mountains” (compare Psa 50:10; 6:51) and Leviathan kept in the water (compare Psa 104:26; 6:52a). Both are “conserved” (conservasti, 6:49a) and “kept to be eaten by whom thou wilt and when thou wilt” (et servasti ea, ut fiant in devorationem quibus vis et quando vis). This banquet text contains three major features. First, it appears in a protological context; second, it emphasizes God’s choice to preserve, conserve, or hide away; and third, it underscores God’s desire to serve them at a time of his choosing.

How, then, does this illuminate Ps.-Aug.’s text? As with 4 Ezra and the other combat-banquet texts, Ps.-Aug. (1) emphasizes the protological dimension (“God created [the ortygometra] once with the rest of the creatures in the beginning”); (2) stresses God’s free will in hiding it away (God “hid it in a hidden corner of the world”); and, most importantly, (3) underscores the divine freedom to use the creature how he wanted (“this [bird] he served to his people in the time of their need”). Furthermore, all three of these elements have striking verbal parallel in 4 Ezra.

For Ps.-Aug., the presence of the ortygometra in his Latin version of Wisdom’s retelling of the first and second quail narratives required explanation. In particular, the idea that the ortygometra was a “new” creation was troubling. Explaining that the creature was new to the Israelites but not to God, he further explains using phrasing that strongly suggests the ortygometra was a creature requiring the same treatment as the legendary beasts Behemoth and Leviathan.

Taking Stock

Both quail narratives undergo substantial modification, abridgement, and merging in their journey through different exegetes, particularly if we narrow to those who explicitly name it the ortygometra, in either Greek or Latin. Psa 105(LXX 104), in all its versions, reflects only the first quail episode; the LXX uses ὀρτυγομήτρα and the Latin “Hebrew psalter,” ortygometra, introducing the transliteration as an alternative to coturnix. Philo’s De vita Mosis also eschews the punishment of the second narrative (though he displays clear knowledge of it), as does Ps.-Philo. Wisdom of Solomon displays a highly creative explanation of the quail story, and Ps.-Aug. demonstrates an even more developed version of it.

This small sampling serves to display several facts. The barrier between the two quail narratives is porous rather than rigid. Details are swapped in and out as each reader needs. One can trace an ortygometra-specific strand, as I have done. By the time of Wisdom and De mirabilibus, the ortygometra had, at the very least, gained some sort of reputation, either a “new” bird as in Wisdom or even gaining a legendary status, as in De mirabilibus.