Chapter 5
They show to better advantage when only a few pairs are kept and fed daily at some settled place; but to make really interesting pets two are quite sufficient, and may be made very amusing companions. Some species may possess more mental capacity than others. Those I have to speak of were snow-white trumpeters. A pair was sent to me, but, to my sorrow, I found on opening the basket that the male bird had escaped on the way; so I could only put the solitary hen in a cage, and do all that was possible in the way of plentiful food and kind care to make her happy; but all to no purpose. The poor bird pined and grew weaker every day, till she became unable to get up to her perch. I used, therefore, to go to her every evening and place her comfortably for the night; and she soon grew tame enough to like being caressed and talked to. When spring returned I obtained a male pigeon, and hoped Blanche would accept him for a mate, but she showed a great deal of temper, and made him so unhappy that he had to be exchanged for another--a fine snow-white bird like herself, and, happily, of such a forbearing disposition as to endure being considerably "hen-pecked." Now began the curious part of Blanche's history. The pair built a nest in a small pigeon-house close to my window, so that I was able to watch all the family arrangements with much interest. Blanche liked to be with me for some hours in the morning, sitting on the table pluming herself, quite at ease, and when that operation was ended she generally seated herself on a large Bible which lay at one end of the dining-table, and there she usually went to sleep; a white dove resting on the Word suggested to one's mind many a beautiful emblematic thought. These visits to me were paid most regularly when a nest was finished and the eggs were being hatched; she then shared the duties of incubation by turns with her mate. He would sit patiently for four hours on the nest, while Blanche spent that time with me; then, punctually at the right moment, she would wake up, and, lazily stretching her wings, would fly out at the open window to see how affairs were getting on at home, and take her place on the nest for her appointed four hours.
She was a most eccentric bird in the matter of laying eggs. I sometimes found she had made me a present of one, neatly placed amongst my working materials! In fact, wherever she happened to be upon the table would be deemed by her a suitable place for laying; and, as I always conveyed the eggs to her nest, her little freaks did not much matter. But at last she took it into her wilful little head to lay her eggs in the coal-scoop, an arrangement which by no means improved her snowy plumage. She had a pretty crest, which curved over her head, and her feet were clothed with rather long feathers reaching to the claws. At our breakfast-time she would often sit close to my plate, letting me stroke her and draw out her pretty wings. I must own she was as conceited as any peacock, throwing herself on her side and stretching out a feathered foot, little dreaming how she was being laughed at for her affected attitudes. If she had a fault, it was her temper! I have seen her go up to her mate and give him a most uncalled-for peck, and he--amiable bird!--would bear all her unkindness so meekly, only answering by a propitiatory coo. Blanche reared many sons and daughters, but none were so interesting as herself. I ascribe her unusual tameness to the loving care bestowed upon her in her long illness. When once a bird's affections are won in that way they generally remain firm friends for life.
GERBILLES.
These curious little animals were brought to my notice by a scientific friend who had seen them at the Zoological Gardens, and heard that they were to be obtained there by applying to Mr. Bartlett.
As I always regretted the untimely death of my pet jerboa, I thought these little rodents would fill his place, and prove amusing pets. And, accordingly, I paid a visit to the Zoo, and found a whole colony of gerbilles of all ages living very amicably together in a large, strongly-built wooden box, with bran, oats, and nuts for provender.
It was no easy matter to secure a pair of suitable size and age. I could but admire the patience of the attendant who made persevering attempts to catch the nimble creatures for me, but they leaped and sprang about, darted through his fingers, disappeared into holes, and seemed to enjoy his discomfiture. At length a lively pair, with sleek skins and perfect tails, were securely caged.
Then I was warned to keep them in a tin-lined cage, as they would "gnaw through anything," even the solid teak chest in which they were kept was being rapidly demolished by their powerful incisors.
The gerbilles were placed in a plant case, four feet long, with glass sides and top, through which their gambols could easily be seen. The case had a glass partition, and on one side lived a pair of chipmunks, or striped American squirrels. They were highly incensed at their new neighbours, springing with all their force against the partition, with low growlings, casting up the cocoa fibre with their hind legs, as if to try and hide them from their view. They soon found a little chink, through which, I am afraid, some very strong language was launched at the new-comers.
Happily the gerbilles did not mind. They found delightful tree-roots to gnaw at, plenty of food, and freedom to frisk and frolic to their heart's content, so their neighbours were free to growl as much as they liked, and they in their turn raised a hill of fibre and played at hide-and-seek in their new domain.
But let me now describe these gerbilles. I believe there are several species, differing somewhat in appearance. These were fawn-coloured, with sleek, soft fur, which, like the chinchilla, was blueish next to the skin. They were about the size of small rats, with little ears and long tails, with a black tuft at the end. The fur was white underneath, the eyes jet black and very large, and long black whiskers, which were always in motion. The hind legs being longer than the front ones, enabled the creature to spring and leap along the ground with great rapidity, as I found to my cost one night, when five of them got out of their case and gave us an hour's occupation before they could be recaptured. One managed to get inside an American organ, and effectually baffled all our efforts to secure him. There was no help for it, he had to be left there, and I went away with an anxious mind as to what his busy teeth would be employed upon all night; and, sure enough, next morning a velvet curtain was found nibbled and tattered, and being converted into a nest for the enterprising gerbille! They became very amusing, tame little creatures, ready to take dandelions, nuts, or any little dainty, from one's hand.
As they breed very readily in England, I was soon presented with a little family of five very tiny, pinkish-coloured infants, quite blind, and destitute of hair. They were not attractive, and so were left to their mother's care till they could see and were properly clothed, and then they were extremely pretty, and rapidly developed all the habits and manners of their parents, gnawing wood, nibbling nuts, and having merry games of their own, darting with wonderful quickness in and out of the tree-roots, and getting up small battles for some coveted morsel of diet. The first pair were quiet enough, and agreed happily together, but when, later on, mother and daughter happened to have a little brood at the same time, things became complicated, and it was no uncommon sight to see the two mothers careering about, each with an infant in its mouth, and it often fell to my lot to take care of the unfortunate children and replace them in the nest whilst the mothers had a "stand-up" fight, and this is a literally true expression, for gerbilles sit bolt upright and fight each other with their front feet; but, though they appear to be in desperate conflict, I must say I never saw that any damage was done. As to their gnawing power, it is almost beyond description. I gave them a strong wooden box as a nursery for the young gerbilles, but before long they had eaten out the back and sides, and a mere skeleton of a box remained. There was a piece of zinc, which formed a partition, but they ate a hole right through the zinc in no time, and when a wire cage, with a sliding door, was placed in the plant case, they soon learnt how to lift up the door and get out. We often watched the formation of the family nest, which was constructed of wool and hay nibbled very small, and carried by mouthfuls and woven together. It generally had two outlets for ingress and egress. There the entire family would sleep during the day amicably enough, but towards evening the nursery disputes would begin, and old animosities led to frequent battles and scrimmages, because somebody wanted some one else's pieces of wool for the precious infants. Still they were very tame, amusing little creatures, liking to be stroked and fed and rewarded by a run upon the breakfast-table, where they would examine every dish and plate in a delicate, inquiring way, not touching the contents--only trying to add to their small amount of knowledge of the outside world. Their food consisted of bran, oats, pea-nuts, wheat, fresh dandelion and clover-leaves, and on these they lived in perfect health and beauty.
As the colony increased, it was needful to make several homes for the gerbilles, and the original pair happened to be, for a time, in a cage upstairs on a landing. One of these found its way out of the cage, down the stairs, across the hall, and was discovered next morning in a room where the younger members of the family were kept. This would go to prove a keen scent, which, I suppose, guided the little animal to find its friends, and also confirms what travellers have written about gerbilles living in large colonies and always keeping together.
One evening I had to read some natural history papers at a Band of Mercy meeting in a neighbouring village, where the clergyman's wife took great interest in promoting kindness to animals, and as I proposed speaking about the gerbilles, I thought I would take some of them with me to show the children. Accordingly a mother and four little ones, were put into a cage with some food and bedding for their comfort whilst being exhibited. I was concerned to see the extreme terror they seemed to feel at the unusual motion of the carriage, and in a few minutes one became convulsed and literally died of fright. I held the cage in my lap, and talked to the others to reassure them, fearing more casualties, but after a while they settled down, and we reached the schoolroom in due time. I was scarcely prepared for the tremendous sensation the gerbilles created. Remarks in broad Hertfordshire greeted their appearance. "Whoy, here's a lot of moise." "Noa, they ain't; they's rats!" "Will they boite?" and then such a cluster of children came round me they had to be called to order, and the cage was carried round that all might see the little foreigners, and through all the after-proceedings many pairs of eyes remained fixed upon the cage and its inmates. I fancy that evening will long be remembered by the children.
The great difficulty that attends the keeping of these little animals is their rapid rate of increase. It is true they can all be kept together, for, as I have said, though there are squabbles they do not result in any personal injury, and thus my colony was allowed to go on till there was no counting the number of generations that existed. I very much wished to reduce the numbers, and give some away, but could never tell which were the mothers of the small pink infants I was being presented with continually. I tried putting a little family of the babies into a cage in the plant case, hoping the mother who belonged to them would then appear and take care of them; but no, the entire colony trooped in and ran riot in the new place, and if a young gerbille was by chance left uncovered in the _melée_, a twentieth cousin would take it up tenderly as if it was its own mother, and replace it in the nest--a very emblem of brotherly kindness and charity. The colony had finally to be dispersed and given away in small detachments to different friends, and, strange to say, in no other case did the numbers increase, I imagine because the requisite conditions of space and quietness were not realized as in the pleasant home I was able to provide for them.
WATER SHREWS.
Hearing that the little patients in a London hospital had scarcely any toys, and that they especially desired a very large doll, I had one dressed for them, and various other interesting items, such as an album of pictures, bags of shells, a stamp snake, &c., were prepared; but a large box was needed in which to pack all these treasures; and one which had been for months in the wine-cellar was brought up for that purpose into the hall.
It was filled with straw, and as I was watching this being taken out I noticed some small black animals darting about in it.
"They must be young rats," I exclaimed, "and the rare kind, too--the black rat, which has been almost entirely eradicated by the stronger brown species." A curious instance, by the way, of a foreign interloper driving out the native.
I immediately resolved to secure these animals, whatever they might prove to be, and, armed with leather gloves, and an empty glass globe to place my captures in, I began to search in the straw, and soon secured the supposed rats, but they proved to be a pair of water shrews--jet black, lively little creatures, with sharply-pointed snouts and teeth, as I soon discovered to my cost. I had taken off my gloves and was watching the activity of the shrews, when suddenly they flew upon each other, biting and screaming with rage, and, thinking they would kill each other at that rate, I tried to separate them, but one turned and bit me pretty severely, and it was with some difficulty they were parted. One I put into a zinc fern case, and the other into a large empty aquarium, with shingle at the bottom, moss and wool for bedding, and a large pan of water for swimming and bathing.
They were rather larger than the common mouse, jet black above, and greyish-white beneath--restless, active creatures, usually found near ponds and ditches; and how ever these two had found their way into a dry cellar, and lived in a box of straw will always remain a mystery. I learnt from books that they fed on worms and insects, and that diet was provided, though much to my distress, for it is a miserable thing to see any living creature tortured and devoured alive, even though it may be in obedience to natural instincts. Happily I soon found a substitute. I was showing one of the shrews to a fellow-student of natural history, and with a long feather soon attracted the little animal's attention; he always came out of his bed and sprang upon the feather like a little tiger, dragging it about and holding on with the grip of a bull-dog, so that one could lift him off the ground and keep him swinging a minute in the air to see the pretty white fur underneath. My friend suggested that it probably fed on small birds and thought the feather was part of its daily fare.
I obtained a fowl's head from the larder, and then it was a sight to see how it was pounced upon and dragged about until securely hidden under the moss, when we could hear our little friend crunching the bones and tearing it to pieces as if he had not had anything so good for a long while.
One shrew died in a few days, but the other lived three weeks in perfect health, and I believe it was an accidental failure of sufficient food that led to the death of the second; their appetite seems to be, like that of the mole, most voracious, and unless they obtain a constant and ample supply of food they quickly die of hunger.
They are worth studying for a few days, but their dreadful odour and fierce character make them anything but pets. I suppose there is hardly any animal in England so fierce and combative, and probably that may account for the fact that one so often comes across a dead shrew lying on the path in summer.
When swimming, the shrew's furry coat perfectly resisted the entrance of moisture; it always came out absolutely dry. The said coat was most carefully kept in order; a daily brushing and cleansing went on, the little tongue was often at work licking off every little speck of dust; the toes were spread out and examined; the small amount of tail kept in order. I could but think how many a lesson we may learn from the small as well as the great creations of God's hand--habits such as this little animal possessed might, in the way of cleanliness, lead to the prevention of endless diseases, if imitated by those who never dream of daily cleansings as being necessary to health and life.
SQUIRRELS.
If one lives in the country where these graceful little animals exist, it is well worth while to attract them near the house so that one may enjoy the sight their gambols and minister to their wants by suitable diet. As I have already said, for many years food was placed in a basket outside the dining-room window to attract the charming little titmice, and four species might be seen feasting on fat of different kinds. I placed Barcelona nuts for the nuthatches, and they came and shared the contents of the basket with the tits. The nuts also drew a squirrel to the spot, and after about a year, the little fellow became so used to seeing us moving in the room that he would sit in the basket with his graceful little tail curved over his back, cracking his nuts, and nibbling away quite at ease. Then the window was opened and the nuts put on a table inside the room, and there little "Frolic" sits whilst we are at meals and forms one of the family, holding his nuts cleverly in his paws, whilst his sharp teeth bite a hole in them, and, regardless of tidiness, he flings the shells about as he nibbles at the kernels, looking at us with his black, beady eyes, perhaps speculating upon what our breakfast may be. How much more enjoyable is this sort of pet than a poor caged squirrel whirling round in his wheel, condemned to a dreary life, with no freedom or change, no intercourse with his kind.
In town there is, perhaps, no way to keep a squirrel but in a cage; even so, by an occasional release from its captivity, a constant variety in its food, and its being talked to and noticed, its life may be made less irksome, and, if young, it may eventually be made quite tame, and become an interesting daily companion.
We derived great amusement from our squirrel visitors; one after another they would leap up the side of the window and spring in and out of the basket in quick succession, carrying away a nut at each visit, playing and skirmishing with each other in lively fashion. I am sorry to confess there was great jealousy amongst them. A second squirrel took to coming into the room, and Frolic and he had a pitched battle, in which our favourite, poor little fellow! lost half his ear, and a sponge and water were needed to efface the sanguinary stains left by the fight.
The squirrel's great enemy is the cat. One would not think she could catch the agile little creature; but one day we saw a cat watching an unconscious little squirrel under the tulip-tree: we did not dream that she could harm it, but in a moment she made one swift rush at her prey. The squirrel ran at full speed, but alas! before we could interfere it was caught and carried away.
At Dropmore, the gardener told us he had a cat that kept the Pinetum quite clear of squirrels. They certainly nibble the young shoots of firs and horse-chestnuts unmercifully in the spring, and one very dry summer they took very kindly to our peaches and nectarines; but I freely forgive their little sins, and should be sorry to miss them from the lawn where there are often four or five to be seen at once.
They chase each other round a tree-stem with wonderful agility, and express their animosity with angry grunts and a stamp of the foot like a rabbit. In autumn I have acorns and beech-mast collected, and store some bushels of each to be doled out through the winter and spring; strewn under the tulip-tree this food, mixed with corn, attracts an amusing variety of live creatures. Besides the squirrels which are constantly there, we see jays, wood-pigeons, jackdaws, rooks, and flocks of the smaller birds; if snow should prevail, a whole rookery will come to see what is to be had. By constantly watching their movements I have learnt that the squirrel's tail has quite a language of its own. It can be curved over its back and so spread out that on a wet day it forms a complete shelter from rain. It will take the form of a note of interrogation or lie flat on the ground, stand out at an angle or bristle with anger, according to the mood of the possessor.
I did not find the American chipmunks, before alluded to, at all tameable. They were very handsome, of grey colour with dark brown stripes on their sides.
They were extremely wild, and would spring round their cage in perfect terror when looked at, so, finding they could not be made happy in confinement, I let them loose in the garden in the hope they might burrow under a large rhododendron clump, but after a day or two they disappeared, and I suppose they made their escape to a neighbouring wood, so that I have little hope of ever seeing them again.
A MOLE.
A live mole above-ground is a somewhat rare sight, for, as a rule, his habits are altogether subterranean; but now and then he may be captured by a sudden grasp as he scrambles along in his odd, unwieldly fashion, and a curious fellow he is in many ways.