Part 22

The season being dry, one morning early the person to whom reference has been made repaired to the lawn and poured a pitcher of water over some plants that grew near her porch, when one of these squirrels was observed to pass among them on his way to the trees. He paused from his journey, sat up on his haunches, took one of the wet leaves in his hands, pressed the sides together for a trough for the moisture, and holding it to his mouth drank from it the water in the most comical fashion imaginable. He then went to another and another, drinking from five or six leaves in all, while she stood watching near by. A large saucer filled with water was placed near the plants, which the little fellows quickly discovered, and both thereafter drank and washed regularly at the dish.

A practice of testing their knowledge of nuts was then made. When cracked hickory nuts were given them, they at once sat down and picked out of them the meats, which they eagerly devoured. Cracked nuts, it would seem, were deemed worthless for storage. But, on the contrary, when whole nuts were given, they tested them, evidently by weight, to see if they were sound. Sound nuts were promptly transported to their burrow, but the poor ones were dropped. They were never known to be mistaken in their judgment, for the rejected nuts on being cracked were always found to be worthless.

Although the food of the Hackee is mostly vegetal in character, yet, like his English relative, he is occasionally carnivorous in his appetite, for he has been detected in the cruel act of robbing birds’ nests and devouring their callow young.

Some Squirrels are remarkable for their extreme agility in climbing trees, and in making extraordinary leaps from one bough to another or from some elevated spot to the earth. The Ground Squirrels, however, are intended to abide on the earth, and are seldom known to ascend trees to any great height. As they possess cheek-pouches, they are placed in a separate genus under the name of Tamias, which is a Greek word, signifying a store-keeper, and are distinct from the others in being furnished with these appendages. _Tamias striatus_ is the appellation by which the subject of our sketch is known to the books.

CANINE SAGACITY.

Many years ago, two decades or more, the writer was the possessor of a little dog--a French poodle by breed. A more knowing animal of his kind never lived. He was a pretty creature, with hair as white as driven snow, and manners the most agreeable. Great pride was taken in his appearance. That his dress should maintain its natural purity, he was weekly subjected to a warm-water bath. This task devolved upon a little brunette, for whom the canine had contracted a strong affection.

Frisky, for such was our pet’s name, had never before coming into the family known what it was to receive a good washing. His first experience was as uninteresting as it was novel and strange. It was anything but pleasant to him, but the little fellow bore it like a martyr.

Such treatment, by the ordinary cur, would have been resented with snaps and snarls, but his was a gentle nature that knew no such untoward manifestations. But there was, all the same, an aversion to the bath, as looks only too plainly indicated. So pronounced was the dislike, that the very sight of water caused his delicate frame to shake like a child’s with the cold.

Had not the greatest care been taken in the preparation of the bath, it might have been thought that the tremors that shook his by no means robust frame were induced by the water’s chilliness or by its undue warmth. But this could not be the case, as the fluid was always tempered to the most sensitive touch.

But there came a time, however, when Frisky was determined to evade these kindnesses upon the part of his mistress. He had pleaded immunity from them in pitying glances, but without avail. Something must be done, his looks would seem to say, as he lay cuddled up by the cosy kitchen fire. One could almost read the thoughts that were shaping themselves in his mind.

For three long years Frisky, who had been allowed to sleep at nights in the sitting-room, was accustomed, when morning broke, to visit the different members of the family in their respective dormitories, and have a lively, rollicking time. These visits were always looked forward to, and in no instance, during the whole of that period, were they ever intermitted. To have missed one of these exciting romps, would have been a keenly-felt deprivation. But that we were to be doomed to such disappointment and affliction, subsequent events only too clearly showed.

One Saturday morning, for it was always on the Jewish Sabbath that the bath was given, Frisky failed to make his accustomed calls. This was noticed by everyone, and no amount of comment was provoked. Loudly his name was spoken, but no response was elicited, and it soon became evident that the cunning little elf was beyond the reach of calling. Search was instituted, but to no effect. His absence was lamented, and it was feared some calamity had befallen him. A silence, like unto death, filled the house. There was weeping and wailing about, for Frisky was not.

But just as the shadows of night were deepening, and hope was dying out of the bosoms of all, the patter of little feet was heard upon the pavement leading to the back-door. The sounds were too familiar to be those of a stranger. All listened with breathless silence. “’Tis Frisky, ’tis Frisky,” went up a chorus of voices, and we all rushed to the door to welcome the runaway back to the fold. Not a chiding word was spoken, not a look of reproof given, as with outstretched arms the culprit was received to our hearts. A more crestfallen, conscience-stricken being, however, could hardly be conceived to exist.

Things resumed their wonted sway. Happiness reigned once more in the family. Frisky’s matutinal visits were as though they had not been interrupted. His frolics had all their former vivacity. The sin committed had been condoned, and he in splendid repute again.

A week since his first wrong-doing had elapsed. Would he repeat his plan of getting rid of the obnoxious bath?--had never entered our minds. The day dawned bright and lovely. All was bustle outside, and the slamming of shutters told that the servant was astir in the kitchen. As was her usual custom, the entry door was left open for Frisky. All ears were on the stretch. There were no familiar signs. The sharp, glad bark that always heralded his coming was wanting, and so, too, the timing of little feet upon the stairs. Not a sound of breathing, not a rustle of counterpane, was heard. Still and motionless we all lay, till the minutes seemed hours, and then came the thought that it was Saturday and Frisky had again disappeared. Search was everywhere made, but the missing one was nowhere to be found. That he had slipped out when the door was opened, was now most obvious. No effort was made to find his hiding-place, for we all knew that he would come back with the shadows.

His coming was later this time than before. The sun had long gone to rest. It was pitch dark when the pawing of little feet against the door announced his return.

This second offence was passed over as the first had been, and Frisky was his jolly, frolicsome self once more. A score of Saturdays was thus managed and the hateful bath escaped, for well this cunning bit of flesh and fur knew that the seventh was the only day of the week when it was convenient for his mistress to attend to his ablutions.

That Frisky was able to count, or had some means of determining the coming of the day he so thoroughly detested, there can be no question. But the exceeding cuteness of his nature not only showed itself in his manner of getting rid of the hateful bath, but in various other ways. He seemed equal to every emergency that could arise. Oftentimes I have watched him, as he lay upon a rug by the kitchen-hearth, or upon the pillow of a new-made bed, for he was at liberty to go where he pleased about the house, and I have fancied that I could see him thinking, or read the train of thoughts passing through his mind, so human-like seemed he in these reflective moments.

When scolded for some trifling misdoing, or threatened with denial of some expected pleasure, no so-called brute could show more pitying glances. His grief was often heart-rending to behold. Prostrate upon the ground or carpet, or in what place soever he chanced to be, he would moan and moan for hours together, and only consent to be comforted when the burden was lifted from off his soul by a kind word spoken, a smiling look given, or a quick, hearty shake of his delicate paw. When happy, and it did not take much to make him happy, he was full of life and vivacity, capering and prancing about with the utmost _abandon_, and doing his very best to show off his happiness and pleasure. His eyes seemed kindled with a holy affection, and a blaze of heavenly sunshine would appear to play over his features. I have seen him, when in such mental agony, to actually shed tears, a sight that never could fail to reach and melt the flintiest hearts. He knew and understood every word that was spoken to him, and responded by a shake of the head, or a low, soft bark. A conscience within told him the right from the wrong, and though he sometimes knowingly erred, yet he was always truly sorrowful for his sins afterwards.

There came a day, however, when the idol of the household went out and never returned. Some unlucky event had doubtless befallen him, or he had been spirited away to parts unknown. If living, I trust he is being cared for as he richly deserves. He was a kind, gentle, loving being, and I cannot help thinking that some day I shall meet him in the beautiful world beyond the grave.

FELINE INTELLIGENCE.

Probably no creature has been more calumniated by man than the Domestic Cat. While wonderful intellectual powers, as well as the most amiable traits of character, have been accredited to the dog, and rightly so, it seems rather strange that so little of good has been found to exist in the subject of our sketch. She has been held up to reprobation as a thoroughly selfish animal, seeking her own comfort rather than that of others, and manifesting a stronger attachment to places than to owners. Sly and treacherous as her untamed kindred of the forests and jungles are known to be, she receives no higher commendation, and is even accused of concealing her talons in her velvety paws when matters go pleasantly with her, and ready to use them even upon her best friends when crossed in her purposes.

Whatever may have been the experience of those who have so grossly libelled the Cat, my own large acquaintance with the animal has led to different conclusions. Nearly all the Cats with which I have been most familiar have been as docile, tractable and affectionate as any dog could be, and have exhibited an amount of intellectual ability unsurpassed by few dogs. There is as much to be said about the good and bad temper of the Cat as of the dog, while, as to her mental capacities, the advantage is not so decidedly upon the side of the dog as is generally supposed. Nor is my own experience exceptional, for in all instances where friends have possessed favorite Cats their experiences have been similar to my own.

Self is not always paramount to everything else with Cats. Some are generous to a fault. Mothers have been known, whose devotion to their young has been so strong that they have hunted all day for their benefit, even when the latter were full-grown, scarcely taking any nourishment for themselves. But such feelings are perfectly natural. When, however, we see a Cat that is willing to share its food with a stranger, one cannot resist the thought that here is a case of real generosity. A friend once possessed a fine black Cat. He was dainty in his eating, scrupulously exact in his dress, and well-mannered in his deportment. No Cat ever received better training. Unlike the average Cat, he could be trusted in the presence of tempting viands, and was never known to abuse the confidence reposed in him. Beauty, for so he was called, was a model fellow, and well deserved the name. The education he received, while it made him gentle, kind and affectionate, and gave him reliability of character, did still more, for it endowed him with a soul that was not a stranger to the noblest impulses. Life had few luxuries that he did not enjoy; but a sprig of catnip was more to him than the choicest steak or raciest tidbit, and to this luxury he was weekly treated. Notwithstanding his fondness for the herb, he was never reluctant to share it with another, whom Fortune had less favored.

Cats, at least such as are well circumstanced, possess some knowledge of the uses of things. We once knew a Cat that would, when out of doors, make its presence known by a few loud raps upon the closed door, administered by its right front paw. If the call was not immediately answered, a few more raps, louder than before, would be given, and then the Cat, unable to restrain its impatience, would spring up to the latch, striking it a downward blow, as though endeavoring, human-like, to effect an entrance.

But quite as interesting as any of the foregoing cases is that of a female Cat that had run a spine into one of her hind feet. Limping upon three legs she made her way to her mistress, and, raising her foot, implored with a piteous look and sad, distressing cries the removal of the offensive spine. A child could not have made its suffering better understood, nor supplicated the needed relief more intelligently, than did this poor creature, which thoughtless man in his self-glorification is so prone to regard as a senseless, unintelligent and unreasoning being, which has no existence beyond this sublunary sphere.

While Cats are useful in the destruction of vermin, and afford man no little amusement by their wonderful antics, yet they seldom put themselves to any practical use. The Cat, about which we shall now have something to say, is an exception to the rule, and quite a marvel in his ways. He is a resident of a far-away town in New Jersey, and came to his present quarters a long, gaunt, wild-eyed, unfed creature. But something in his looks told of a soul within that fore-shadowed a great deal of good, and so the Cat, which at first seemed an unwelcome guest, began to be looked upon in an appreciative manner. And now Tom, as the Cat is called, is a fixture in the household.

Almost from his advent into the family Tom began to give an exhibition of his common-sense. This first remarkable show of intelligence was on the Sunday succeeding his adoption. The family had repaired to church, leaving Tom contentedly snoozing in a corner of the kitchen. But their surprise can hardly be pictured when in the midst of the sermon Tom came flying down the aisle to the place where his master was seated, and clawing the legs of the trousers of the latter, began yelling at the top of his voice. The minister stopped in the midst of his talking, and everybody got up to see what the trouble was, but Tom, utterly oblivious of them all, continued his strange behavior.

Convinced that the actions of the Cat were not the result of an epileptic fit, but foreboded something wrong at the house, the male portion of the congregation started thither, and when the house was reached a dense column of smoke was seen pouring from the kitchen window. The door was thrown open, and the carpet on the floor was found burned to a cinder. A coal of fire had evidently fallen from the stove-grate and started the fire. That Tom had understood the danger, was shown by his actions.

One day, a horse, belonging to a neighboring farmer, ran away, and tore down the road past Tom’s home at a thundering gait. Tom was sauntering around the yard, and his attention being drawn to the rattling of the wagon, he was soon in the road to see what the trouble was, and observing that the team was unaccompanied by a driver, he leaped upon the head of the runaway horse and hung on with teeth and claws until the animal was secured. On another occasion a tramp, happening along the road, descried a bicycle that belonged to one of the inmates of the house. He was soon astride the wheel, and might have made his escape had not he fallen under the eyes of Tom, who, as quick as a flash, was after the thief. Leaping into the air, he fell on the man’s shoulders and set his teeth firmly into his neck. There was a howl and a crash that brought the family to the yard, and there they found the tramp rolling on the ground and making desperate efforts to get away from Tom’s rigid jaws. Finally the Cat was induced to relax his hold, and the wounds of the tramp being cared for, he was allowed to proceed on his way.

More wonderful still is what follows: When the master wants to bait his cows and keep them within a certain area he instructs Tom to watch them, and the allotted task is performed with all the faithfulness and wisdom of a shepherd’s dog. Any disposition to stray outside the limits is checked, the erring animal being hustled back by Tom, who, attaching himself to her caudal extremity, remains there until she is brought back to where she belongs.

No animals seem to require human sympathy so much as Cats, or to be so capable of giving sympathy in return. Where they have formed a strong attachment to a person they are loath to be away from his society and follow him wheresoever he goes, giving caresses and expecting a liberal share of the same in return. I have been upon a bed of sickness and a favorite Cat, which I always addressed as Puss, would, whenever the opportunity occurred, make her way into my room, and, jumping upon the bed, lay her head against my face in the most endearing manner, and purr her sweetest and gentlest, ever and anon stopping to express her sympathy by licking my forehead or uplifted hand. Even when Puss has been suffering from maladies to which all flesh of her kind is heir, I have sat by her side and stroked her head, and have read in the look which she gave me that she felt my sympathy and appreciated it beyond any power of expression of hers to declare. She seemed to think at all times that I was wholly her own, and no other Cat, not even one of her own offspring, would be allowed such familiarities, as any attempt was sure to provoke the most intense jealousy. Nor was I permitted to lavish attentions upon any of her kith, for she would soon become wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, and instant vengeance would be wreaked upon the recipient of my favors.

Much more might be said about the Cat. It has its good qualities and its bad qualities. There is hardly a trait of character which the human animal possesses that it does not possess. Of course I now speak of our Domestic Cat. In the long-past times, when the Egyptian nation was at the head of the civilized world, _Felis maniculata_, which is the reputed origin of our Domestic Cat, was universally domesticated in their homes, and it is not unknown the very high position it held in the love and esteem of the people, for it was deified and worshipped as a god. Even in England, still later down in time, the Domestic Cat was so scarce that royal edicts were issued for its preservation. Yet in those days, A. D. 948, the wild Cat was rife in the British Islands and was considered as a vicious animal, which must be destroyed, and not a useful one to be protected by the law. How we came into the possession of the Cat is a matter of conjecture, the current belief being that it was imported from Egypt into Greece and Rome, and thence into England.

BRIGHT LITTLE CEBIDAE.

Next to man, in descending the scale of animal life, come the Quadrumana, or Four-handed Animals. They are represented by the Apes, Baboons, Monkeys and Lemurs. Excepting the last, and a few other species, these animals are not very pleasing in aspect or habits, some of them, the larger apes and baboons, being positively disgusting. The air of grotesque humanity that characterizes them is horribly suggestive of human idiocy, and we approach an imprisoned gorilla or baboon with much the same repugnance that we do a debased and brutal maniac. This aversion seems not to be produced so much by the resemblance that the ape bears to man, as by the horror felt lest man should degenerate to the condition, character and physiognomy of the ape. But to the naturalist, who sees wonder or beauty in all things animate, these creatures are no less pleasing than others that are not so repugnant.

Were we to take a survey of the varied forms which the Quadrumana of the Old World assume, we would find that the forms would show such diversification that there would hardly seem scope for further modifications. Yet the prolific power of nature is so inexhaustible, that the depth of our researches would only bring to light objects of such infinite variety of form as to overwhelm the mind with surprise and admiration. Thus it would be found to be with the Cebidæ, or American Monkeys. While they would be shown to possess the chief characteristics of the monkey nature, thus establishing their close relationship with the Old World monkeys, yet they would be seen to exhibit the strangest modification of details. Their four hand-like paws, and other quadrumanous peculiarities, would indicate their _status_ in the animal kingdom, while sundry differences of conformation would show that they were intended to live under conditions that would ill suit their relatives on the other side of the globe. Curious it is to observe how the same idea of animal life is repeated in various lands and climates, even though seas, impassable to creatures unaided by the light of civilized reason, intervene. So we have the Simiadæ of Asia and Africa represented by the Cebidæ of America. Nor is this wonderful idea restricted exclusively to the man-like animals. The lion, tiger and other feline races of the Eastern Continent find Western representatives in the puma and jaguar, and the same circumstance may be observed of nearly all the mammalia, the birds, the reptiles, the fishes, and, in short, through the entire animal kingdom.

But of all the monkeys of the New World, and they are numbered by hundreds included in several genera and species, there are none that deserve more consideration than the Capuchin Monkeys. They are active, little animals, lively and playful. So similar are all the species in general habits, that a description of one will equally serve for any other. Their youthfulness and sportive manners make them very desirable companions, and hence we frequently find them domesticated by the native Indians and European settlers. Like other small monkeys, the Capuchin often strikes up a friendship for other animals that may happen to live in or near its home, the cat being one of the most favored of its allies. It is sometimes the case this familiarity is carried so far that the cat is turned into a horse by the monkey, who, seated upon her back, perambulates the premises. More unpromising subjects, we are told, have been pressed into similar service. Humboldt cites the case of one that was accustomed to catch a pig every morning, and, mounted upon its back, was known to retain its seat during the entire day. Even when the pig was feeding in the savannas its rider remained firm, and bestrode the animal with as much pertinacity as one skilled in equestrianism would the most rampant steed.