We have now gone far and near among the animals kept by man, have seen them at work and at play, on farm and on road, in doors and out of doors, some helping him, some amusing him, some supplying him with food and clothes. But so far we have kept among the animals of common use. There are others not so often kept and at some of these we must take a passing glance before we finish our journey.
Man, you know, is only one among many thousands of kinds of animals which dwell upon the earth. These are found everywhere, from the hot equator almost to the frozen poles. The most of them, of course, live in warm regions, but away up in the seas of ice may be seen creatures clad in thick wool and fur and finding food under the snows. So there is hardly any part of the earth without its living beings.
Some of these animals are so savage that man rarely tries to tame them. The fierce lion and tiger, the ferocious grizzly bear, the huge and stupid rhinoceros, and many others of the same wild sort are shown us at times in menageries. But we look at them through the iron bars of their cages. If any of them should get out of the cage we would hasten to get out of the show.
Even these fierce animals at times grow tame enough for men and women to go into their cages and teach them some simple tricks. But they are never safe to deal with, and we are always glad to see the tamers of lions and other wild beasts come out of the cages alive.
It is not such creatures as these that man makes use of. He has picked out those of gentle nature, the grass eaters, not the flesh eaters. The dog and cat, it is true, are flesh eaters, but the dog is an animal that is easily tamed and becomes one of man's best friends. As for the cat, it rarely becomes quite tame. Its wildwood ways cling to it still.
Animals fitted for man's use are found in all parts of the earth, but the tame ones mostly came from Europe and Asia, the countries in which civilization first began. Here are the native places of the horse and the cow, the sheep, goat and pig, the hen, duck and goose, and nearly all the other animals found about our homes.
There is no continent with a greater variety of animals than Africa, but few of these have been tamed, and this mostly in the civilized north, for the people of that continent have long been in a savage or barbarian state, and have been hunters instead of tamers of animals. It has been the same in America. When white men came here they brought their home animals with them and there was no need to tame those found in this new continent. The only ones tamed by the Indians were the dog and the Peruvian llama, and nearly the only one added by the white man has been the turkey. The rest of our animals, like our forefathers themselves, came from abroad.
Though we have dealt with the chief animals kept by man, for use or as pets, there are many others which have been at times tamed and made into friends and comrades, and it may be well to speak of such of these as seem of most interest.
Men and women have a natural love for pets and sometimes pick out very odd ones. You know what the flea is—or if you do not know it is all the better, for the flea's way of making itself known is by biting. Yet even these small pests have been taught to do things, such as being harnessed to little carriages, which they drag about in a way to please those who are near enough to see them.
A strong little insect is the flea. It can leap, we are told, two hundred times its length, while few of us can jump twice our length. And it can pull a heavy weight for a creature of its size. But it is not tamed nor taught. It is simply tied fast and pulls to get loose, and in this way draws its carriage. So to talk about learned fleas is to talk nonsense and most of us would be satisfied if there were no such thing as a flea.
There are other insects which man has at times taken under his care, the ant, for instance, and some others. But these also are not tamed, they are simply studied and made use of in various ways. When we talk of taming animals we must come to those of a higher order, such as the birds and the four-footed creatures. We speak at times of the fish being tamed, but this is only from its losing its fear of man and taking food from his hands. It has not brain power enough for much more than this.
Yet man at times makes a pet of the fish, which he keeps in the little table pond called the aquarium as he keeps his bird pets in the cage, and of these fish pets a few words may be said.
The aquarium is a very pretty piece of furniture for the lovers of animal life, for a variety of water-living things can be kept in it alike for study and pleasure. Plants are needed of various kinds, to give beauty to the collection and keep the water in a fit state for the fish, for animal life and plant life need to go together. The plant gives off oxygen for the fish to breathe.
There are a number of other small animals kept in the aquarium, such as the tadpole, the water-beetle and several kinds of fresh-water snails. But it is the fish that gives life and action to the parlor pond. Swimming in its little lake, now up, now down, darting nimbly about, with its bright scales glistening in the sun, it is always a pretty and attractive object.
From D. M. Smith's Japanese Gold Fish
The Fantail. The Japanese have had wonderful success in changing the form of the gold fish
A favorite among all cage-fish, if I may so call the pets of the aquarium, is the gold fish, with its bright golden scales, flashing as it darts about. This fish is of Chinese origin and belongs to the carp family. It is apt to vary, not only in color but in its fins and tail, the fins being sometimes double and the tails at times triple. Some of them change till they look very odd, and have long, wide, lace-like tails, strange but pretty. Some of the gold fish lose their color and grow white and are then known as silver fish.
The common carp is not as handsome as its cousin, the gold fish, and is apt to grow too large for the aquarium. Those who choose to keep it may have it all their lives and leave it to those who follow, for it is said to live from one hundred to two hundred years.
There are many other fish well fitted for the aquarium, such as the gudgeon, the roach, the tench, and the perch. But the perch can be kept only while young and small, as it is a fish eater and has an appetite that will soon leave it few of the other fish for company.
One must not forget the minnow among the dwellers in the glass house. This little, lively fellow is well fitted to live in close quarters and no fish does better in the home fish-pond. It is a pretty little thing, with olive back and silvery belly, which sometimes becomes bright red. After a little time the minnow will grow very bold and tame enough to come to the edge of the tank at the sound of a familiar voice and take its morsel of food from between the thumb and finger.
Among the fish kept in the aquarium must be named the stickleback, the nest-builder of the fish tribe. This little fish resembles the bird in building a nest, laying its eggs in it, and watching them with great care until they are hatched out. The stickleback is a pretty little fellow, but, like the perch, not safe to keep among other small fish, as he has the bad habit of feeding on them, so that he soon has the aquarium to himself.
Dr. Lankaster says of him: "He has all the ways of other fishes and many others besides. Look into your tank; see, there is one larger than the rest; he is clothed in a coat of mail like a knight of old, and it is resplendent with purple and gold. He is a male fish and the king of your little shoal. He has important offices to perform. In the course of a few days, if you watch him and are fortunate, you will see this wonderful little fish engaged, in the most useful manner, in building a nest.
"He seizes hold of one little bit of weed, then of another, and carries them all to some safe corner, till at last his nest is built. Having done this, he gently allures his mate to their new-made home. Here she deposits her eggs, and having done this resigns the care of them to our hero of the purple and gold, who watches over them with an anxiety that no male in creation but the male stickleback seems to know. He fans and freshens the water with his fins, and at last, when the young are hatched, watches over their attempts at swimming with the greatest anxiety."
From the fish let us turn to the snake, a gliding creature without limbs and without joints. It is much like one of the fishes, the eel, in shape, but not in anything else, while no other animal is so much feared and hated by man. We hate this creeping reptile from the fact that a few species of snakes carry a deadly poison in their teeth, and the strongest of men, bitten by one of these, has often only a few minutes to live.
It is this that makes man a bitter foe of the snake and quick to kill any one he sees, whether it has a poisoned tooth or not. He fears it and hates it and has made up his mind that he and the snake are not fit to live together on the same earth.
This is not fair to the snakes, for only a few of them are poison bearers. Most of them are as harmless as rabbits and can be handled as safely. But the cry of "a snake" is almost as bad as the cry of "a mad dog," and even so gentle a little thing as the garter snake has usually a short lease of life if seen by man or boy.
Not quite everybody has this foolish fear of all snakes, the good and the bad alike, for there are some who make pets of them. And snakes thus petted become very tame and grow fond of those who take care of them. This is the case even with the huge python and the boa-constrictor, the greatest of all snakes. They are not poisonous, but when they wind their body in strong coils around an animal, even one of good size, they can soon crush the life out of it.
Many stories might be given of tame snakes and it may be well to quote one of these as told by Mr. Romanes in his "Animal Intelligence." He had it from Mr. Severn, an artist, who tells of a call he made on a Mr. and Mrs. Mann, two snake-lovers who were much blamed by their neighbors for keeping these crawling creatures.
When Mr. Severn called he was asked by Mr. Mann if he was afraid of snakes. He said, in a timid way, "No, not very," and his host took out of a cupboard a large boa-constrictor, a python, and a number of small snakes, which at once made themselves at home on the writing table among pens, ink and books.
Mr. Severn's eyes opened very wide when he saw the two big snakes looking at him with their bright eyes and thrusting out their forked tongues, and they opened wider still when he saw the great serpents coil round and round the body of his friend. But when he found that they were very tame and would do no harm he lost his sense of fright.
After some time Mr. Mann went out to call his wife, leaving the boa on an arm chair. The other snakes were put away. The visitor now began to feel rather queer, the more so when he saw the great serpent creeping slowly towards him. He was glad enough when Mr. and Mrs. Mann came in, bringing their two children. The lady and the children went at once to the boa, called it by loving names, and let it twine itself around them. We give the rest in Mr. Severn's own words:
"I sat talking for a long time, lost in wonder at the picture before me. Two beautiful little girls with their charming mother sat before me with a boa-constrictor (as thick round as a small tree) twining playfully round the lady's waist and neck and forming a kind of turban round her head, expecting to be petted and made much of like a kitten. The children over and over again took its head in their hands and kissed its mouth, pushing aside its forked tongue in doing so.
"The animal seemed much pleased, but kept turning its head towards me with a curious gaze, until I allowed it to nestle its head for a moment up my sleeve. Nothing could be prettier than to see this splendid serpent coiled all around Mrs. Mann while she moved about the room and when she stood to pour out our coffee. He seemed to adjust his weight so nicely, and every coil with its beautiful marking was relieved by the black velvet dress of the lady.... The snakes seemed very obedient, and remained in the cupboard when told to do so.
"About a year ago Mr. and Mrs. Mann were away for six weeks and left the boa in charge of a keeper at the Zoo. The poor reptile moped, slept, and refused to be comforted, but when his master and mistress appeared he sprang upon them with delight, coiling himself around them, and showing every symptom of intense delight."
Is not this a pretty story of snake taming! Others might be told, for these animals, like others, learn to know and love those who care for them and treat them well.
Would you like to know something more about these great snakes? Many stories are told of them, but the trouble is that these are not all true. Thus we are told of pythons forty feet long and able to kill and swallow a goat or antelope, horns and all. The fact is, that they are never seen more than twenty feet long, usually little more than ten. And though they can kill a goat or antelope, they cannot swallow any animal larger than a small dog.
The python and the boa-constrictor are much alike, but they do not live in the same countries, the python dwelling in the Old World and the boa in the New World. They lurk near water, hiding in the bushes or in the trees, where they are ready to seize small animals that come to drink. These they slowly swallow. Winding their tails around the limb of a tree, they can hang down and seize any animal passing beneath.
But it was not these big snakes, but the doings of the snake charmers, I set out to talk about and to this I must return. We hear of snakes being charmed as we hear of forty foot pythons, but the fact is that there seems to be no charming of the snake at all. When the snake goes through what is called "dancing" one would suppose it had been trained. We know that this is not the case from the fact that the moment a snake has been captured a snake-charmer is able to make it "dance."
Reproduced by Permission of the Philadelphia Museum
Hindu Snake Charmers with the Deadly Cobras
What is called the snake dance is a natural habit of the cobra, which raises its head and one-third of its body above the ground and sways about in the air while the charmer is playing on his pipe. The cobra has poor sight and poor hearing and certainly no ear for music. What it lifts itself in this way for is a chance to strike its enemy. It can strike only with the part of its body that is lifted up and this the charmer knows and can easily keep out of reach.
The cobra is a very deadly serpent. It kills thousands of persons every year in India with its fatal bite. Yet it can be tamed and taught to make itself at home. It can even be made to take the part of a house dog. At any rate Major Skinner, an English officer in India, tells us this snake tale:
"In one family near Negombo cobras are kept as protectors in the place of dogs, by a wealthy man who has always large sums of money in his house, and this is not a solitary case of the kind.... The snakes glide about the house, a terror to the thieves, but never attempting to harm the inmates."
So it seems that even the deadly cobra is not as black as it is painted, but can be tamed and made a friend of by man. When the snake-charmer wants a new snake he plays on his pipe near places in which serpents are apt to hide, and the cobra and other snakes come out and are caught. Sometimes the poison fangs are drawn out of the snake's jaws, but often they are not, the charmers knowing how to avoid being bitten. If bitten, they know how to take care of a bite.
Here is a story told by a Mr. Reyne, who tried to learn the truth about the snake charmers. He made one of these men go with him into the jungle, after finding that he had no snakes hidden under his clothes. As these Hindus wear very little clothing, this was easy to do.
In the jungle was a tall ant-hill in which Mr. Reyne knew that a large cobra made its home. Here the man played his pipe, and soon the cobra came gliding out, as if charmed by the music. Mr. Reyne goes on to say:
"On seeing the man it tried to escape, but he caught it by the tail and kept swinging it around until we reached the bungalow. He then made it dance, but before long it bit him above the knee. He at once bandaged the leg above the bite and applied a snake-stone to the wound to draw out the poison. He was in great pain for a few minutes but after that it gradually went away, the stone falling off just before he was relieved."
Thus it may be seen that a snake can be made to dance the instant it is caught and before it can have any lessons in dancing. The dancing is only a movement made by the serpent when it is alarmed and rises to defend itself.
As for the taming of snakes, it is not very hard to do. The snakes must get used to the sight of man by seeing them often, as when kept in a cage where people pass or stop to look in. And when thus used to see man, they may be handled freely at all times except just after a meal. But those who handle them must be careful not to touch their necks or tails, for these are tender parts of the snake. Thus treated, they soon grow tame. Of course, some are much more savage than others, and any one who wants to own a tame snake had better leave the poisonous kinds alone.
As I have now told the story of the snake, it is well to give a little time to one of the snake's chief enemies, the little weasel-like animal known in Egypt as the Ichneumon and in India as the Mongoose. Larger than a cat, but with a long, slender body, and very quick in its movements, the ichneumon is death to snakes. I cannot say that it is proof against the snake's bite, but it jumps about in so lively a way that the snake gets no chance to bite it, and when it once gets its teeth in the snake's hide it soon puts an end to his career.
This little animal is also death to crocodiles. But you must not think that it deals with the crocodile as it does with the snake. The fact is that it is very fond of the crocodile's eggs, and by digging these out of the sand and eating them it is of much use in cutting down the crocodile crop.
It is easily tamed and becomes a house pet, doing much to keep the house free from rats and mice. Its worst fault is that it loves poultry and is hard to keep out of the chicken coop. The ichneumon has a pretty fashion of squatting down and eating out of its fore-paws like a squirrel. When it sleeps it coils up into a round ball, with its head and tail under its belly.
The Mongoose. The Deadly Foe of Snakes and Rats
The mongoose is a little smaller than the ichneumon, but it is like it in other ways. Not many years ago some of these animals were brought to the island of Jamaica, where rats in the sugar-cane fields were giving the planters a great deal of trouble by gnawing the cane. For a time all went well. The mongoose went for the rats and soon these gnawers grew very few. The planters thought they had done a good thing in the way of saving their sugar-cane.
In time the mongoose was to be seen everywhere and hardly any rats were left. Then the hungry little strangers had to look for food elsewhere and found it in the poultry-yard. The chickens began to follow the rats. Nowadays the planters look on the mongoose as a worse pest even than the rat and would like very much to get rid of their late friend, who makes it very hard to keep chickens and any kind of poultry. They would be glad to find some animal that would serve the mongoose as the mongoose served the rat.
A very tamable little creature is the mongoose, and a very active one also, for it is never still for a minute except when asleep. It is not always hungry, like some other tame animals, but soon gets enough food. But when it does want something to eat it wants it badly and will walk around on its hind legs in man-like fashion after its keeper, and climb up his body till he gives it the food and drink it needs.
The mongoose always wants to know. He must have his nose in everything he sees. He is all the time looking for something new. He would make a good scholar if sent to school. We are told of one that had his doll, his pet rabbit, his toy monkey, all stuffed, and these he played with till the stuffing all came out. If they were stuffed again he would go back to his play. One day he was given a Japanese paper snake and he went for that snake as if it was a live one. First he bit it in two. Then he bit the halves into quarters. Before he let the snake go there was not a piece left big enough for a bite. The little chap knew somehow that he was a born snake killer.
When he could find nothing else to do he would climb into the window and view with delight all that went on outside, the cat, the dog, the horse, the milkman, everything. A game of tennis would hold him quiet for hours, for he was fond of ball play himself and very good at it. When he could find nothing to do or to see he would wander about like a lost lamb, and as a last resort would coil up in his master's lap and go to sleep.
He had no fancy for being locked up in a cage, as had to be done at times, and he let people know this. If a friend of his came into the room where he was caged he would begin to cry like a cat, his voice growing loud and shrill if no notice was taken of him. In a minute more he would be flying around the cage in a fury, tearing up his bedding and flinging it to all quarters. If this had no effect his voice would sink into a wail of despair which it was hard to resist.
But the instant he was taken out all his rage and grief were at an end. He would cuddle up in his master's arms, lay his head lovingly on his cheek and coo and crow away in deep delight.
Leaving the mongoose, we may take a look in upon some other four-footed creatures that make good pets. Among these are such as the chameleon, the odd lizard that has the power to take on a new color whenever it gets tired of the old one; the armadillo, which wears a coat of mail and can roll itself up into a ball that no teeth can bite into; the hedgehog, another little creature that rolls up into a ball with sharp spines sticking out on all sides; the porcupine, that does the same thing and has much longer spines; in fact, almost all kinds of small animals, even those we call house vermin, the rat and the mouse.
We might fancy that pet-lovers would draw a line at rats and mice, but these have often been tamed, at least the white rat and mouse, which some people like for their color. The rat makes a better pet than the mouse, for it is very quick-witted, while the mouse is apt to be dull. Among animal stories there is one we are told about a white rat that seems worth telling.
The owner of this rat found it to be clean, loving and very lively. Like all rats it had the habit of laying up a store of food for future use, and when it found a supply would never stop till it had carried it all away. It was funny to watch it. If a plate of biscuits was put upon the table with no one near by, it would carry them away, one at a time, till not a biscuit was left. They would all be taken to its nesting place, across the room, and laid away for future use.
If it got hold of a hunk of bread too heavy to carry up to its elevated nest, this did not stop its work. It would sit on the floor and gnaw the bread into small bits, carrying those up one at a time. It was fond of warming itself before a coal fire, and seemed to take the fancy that coal was a good thing to have, for it carried it off a piece at a time till it had a store of this hard stuff a foot wide and five or six inches deep.
Very likely many of you have read about how rats will carry off eggs, even taking them down stairs without an egg being broken. It takes two rats to do this, one passing the egg down to the other on the step below. They have even been seen to take eggs up stairs. One rat catches the egg between its fore-paws and its head, and gets up on its hind legs, passing it up to the other, who catches it in its fore-paws. Then they go up another step and keep at this till the top is reached. They are very fond of oil, and when they find bottles of oil have a cute way of their own to get it. First gnawing off the cover, the rat sticks its tail down into the oil, pulls it up well covered, and licks off the oil. Sometimes they take turns, each handing down its tail for another rat to lick. You may see from this that the rat is a very wide-awake little nuisance.
The tame rat we have been speaking of died in good time and a hedgehog became his master's next pet. Have you ever seen a hedgehog? Some of you have, no doubt; but for those who have not I would say that it is a little creature that lives in a hole in the ground or in trees or rocks and comes out at night to feed on mice, frogs, insects and such like prey.
The hedgehog is about a foot long and six inches high, with small black eyes and sharp-pointed head. The odd thing about it is the fact that where most animals are covered with hair this one is covered with spines, hard and sharp, like little thorns. These grow to be about an inch long and there are muscles in the back that cause them to stand up and stick out in all directions.
The Common Hedgehog with his Battery of Spines
When a dog gets busy about a hedgehog, it does not try to run away. All it does is to roll itself up into a ball, its head and tail meeting over its lower parts and its spines sticking up all around. When the dog gets these into his nose a few times he is apt to lose his taste for hedgehog meat. He may roll the animal about with his paws, but that does no good, and he soon goes away with sore head and paws, leaving the hedgehog to unroll and make its way back to its burrow.
When taken home and fed it soon becomes very tame and friendly. It can be handled with safety, for when it is not rolled up its spines lie flat along its back, so that its friends can stroke its back and scratch its nose without harm. These it likes to have done. When it is put on a table it does not a bit mind taking a dive to the floor, for it rolls up so to fall on its spines and thus is not hurt.
A tame hedgehog is a good thing to keep in a garden or kitchen, for it helps to clear the one of worms and the other of roaches and sometimes will catch and kill a rat. It is not afraid to attack snakes, even poisonous ones like the viper. The poison does not seem to do it any harm.
I have spoken of the armadillo as a pet and as an animal that rolls itself into a ball like the hedgehog. Instead of spines, it has a covering of hard, bony plates, which cover the whole body, even the tail. When it rolls itself up it is like a hard stone and can laugh within its coat of mail at the enemies which roll it about but cannot get in.
The armadillo is an American animal, and is found in our country in the state of Texas. It goes south from there through Mexico and on to South America, where it is found everywhere. It lives in large numbers in the woods and on the great grass plains. In its food and habits it is much like the hedgehog, and like it burrows in the ground. To do this it has very strong claws, and these it can use to defend itself when it takes a fancy to fight.
The same person who kept the white rat I have spoken of also had a pet armadillo, though the two were not very good friends. The armadillo was very quick in its motions and the first time it saw the rat it went for it like a lightning flash. The rat was one of the kind of vermin it fed on in its natural state and it thought here was a good chance for a feast. In a minute it had the rat driven into a corner where there was no hole or hiding place and where it stood up as if praying with its paws in the air. In a minute more the armadillo would have made mince meat of the rat with its sharp claws, but its master just then came to the rescue, and saved his pet rat.
The Three-banded Armadillo. An Animal in a Coat of Mail
In the end he punished the armadillo by making a little wagon in which he made it draw the rat about as a passenger.
His armadillo, he tells us, was a famous sleeper, lying asleep about twenty-three hours out of the twenty-four. But in its wakeful hour it was very active and lively. It loved to lie before the fire, but if turned over on its back and scratched it grew furious. It could not turn itself back again much easier than a turtle.
The one thing that threw it into a panic was a sudden noise. If, for instance, the poker was thrown down, the scared animal would make a bee-line for its home, and if it missed the mark would tumble around in a fright till it found the entrance to its cage. When it got used to the noise of the poker any other noise would set it off in the same way, and it never got over its panic at a strange and sudden noise.
So many kinds of animals have been tamed at times that I cannot speak of them all. But I must not forget our familiar little friend, the squirrel, one of the prettiest and liveliest of tree-dwellers. To see him seated, with bushy tail curled up over his back, and gnawing away at a nut held between his fore-paws, is to see one of nature's most charming sights. And he is a tameable little creature, easy to keep and to feed, and very pleasing in his ways.
There are many kinds of squirrels, but all of them may be tamed. They need a cage of good size, and a usual feature of the cage is a revolving wheel or cylinder of zinc wire, a sort of tread-mill in which the active little fellow may take all the exercise he wants, making it spin round at a great speed. He needs a snug little ante-room, to which he may retire when tired of his wheel. Any kind of nut will be welcome as food, and even a stale crust of bread or a bit of boiled potato, all of which he will gnaw in his funny way.
A Friendly Gray Squirrel
Many stories of tame squirrels could be told. Here is one which we owe to a Captain Brown. I give it both for its neatness and its odd ending.
It is of a tame squirrel that used to run up its master's leg and pop into his pocket whenever it saw him getting ready to go out. As he went through the streets it would keep in his pocket, sticking its head out in a saucy way to took at people passing. As soon as the outskirts of the town were reached and trees and bushes became common, out of the pocket it would pop, down the leg it would scramble, and up the trees it would climb, nibbling away at the bark and leaves. If its master started on, down it would come and climb back to his pocket. If a cart or carriage came by it would hide till they had passed, for it was timid with any one but its master.
It was not a good friend with the house dog and this seems to have been bunny's fault, for he had a fashion of his own of teasing the dog. If it lay down and went off into a snooze, down would come the squirrel, scamper over its body, and dart off to its cage again before the dog had time to growl or snap.
This squirrel—or it may have been another squirrel which had the same fancy of hiding in its master's pocket—had one night an adventure in which it served its master as well as any watch-dog could have done. The gentleman who kept it used, when he came home at night, to hang his coat behind one of the downstairs doors. This made a neat sleeping place for the squirrel, who would climb up to the pocket, taking some tow with him for bedding.
One night, after the family and the squirrel alike had gone to bed, a burglar made his way into the house and began to peer around for plunder. Seeing the coat hanging on the door, he began with that, putting his hand into the pocket. In an instant he drew it out again with a cry of pain. He had got a sudden bite from the squirrel's sharp teeth. At the noise the man of the house sprang up, seized a poker and ran down stairs. He was in time to capture the burglar, who was just climbing out of the window.
Perhaps you have read enough about tame animals of the four-footed kind. At any rate it will be well to turn now to the two-footed kind, the birds, and talk about a kind of sport in which birds have been used for many centuries. Nowadays, when one of us goes hunting, we take our shot-gun or rifle, with the dog for companion, and bring down the game with a bullet or load of shot. But long ago, before the gun was known, there was another way of catching game, and of this I wish to speak.
It is called Hawking or Falconry, and is a very old sport in which the falcon or the hawk was used to take game. It is still in use in some countries, but in old times falconry was the favorite sport of kings and nobles, many of whom spent much of their time in the field, hunting smaller or weaker birds by aid of the strong and swift falcon or hawk.
This kind of sport began very long ago, no one can say how long, it being common in Asia long before it was known in Europe. And it is common in some parts of Asia still.
A Hooded Peregrine Falcon. Its eyes are covered by the hood until the game is in sight
Bishop Stanley says: "About two thousand years ago ancient writers speak of hawking as a common sport. People used to go out into the marshy grounds and beat among the reeds and bushes for small birds, and as these flew away hawks were let loose in pursuit, and when the game fell to the ground, either through fright or struck by the hawks, men ran up and secured them.
"In China it is a favorite sport with some of the mandarins to hawk for butterflies and other large insects with birds trained for that particular pastime. In India the Goshawk and two other species are taught to keep hovering over the hunters' heads and when deer and other game start up, they dart down and fix their claws upon its head and thus bewilder it until it is secured. A certain sultan kept a corps of seven thousand falconers."
The Arabians used the falcon to hunt the goat. When a rock goat was seen on a mountain the falcon would be let loose and would fly like an arrow straight for the animal, lighting on its back and fixing its talons in its throat. It held fast until the huntsman came up to the weakened animal and cut its throat, the falcon being paid for its service by drinking the blood.
Falconry is still common in Persia and is much spoken of in the poetry and stories of the Persians. One of these stories is worth telling, both from its being a very pretty one and from its being like a famous story of ancient Wales. In the Welsh story, which we have in a fine ballad, Prince Llewellyn had a faithful dog named Gellert which he left in charge of his infant child. During the absence of the prince a wolf entered the house and was attacked and killed by the dog. When he came home he saw the cradle upset and blood all over the floor, and thinking that the dog had killed his child he plunged his sword into its side. A minute later he saw the child safe under the cradle and the wolf lying dead. He was sorry enough when he saw this, but all he could do was to build a monument over his faithful dog.
Stories like this were common in the past, with other animals than the dog and the wolf. In old Persia it was the hawk and the snake. We are told of a Persian king who went out hunting with his favorite falcon on his wrist. After a time a deer started up and was pursued by the falcon, and was in time brought down and killed.
In chasing it, the king had left all his people in the rear and now found himself alone. He was also hot and thirsty and finding some water trickling down a mountain side, he filled his cup with it, but very slowly, as the water came down only in drops. He was about to drink it when the falcon struck the cup with its wings and spilt the water.
Vexed at this, the king filled the cup again and once more raised it to his lips. Again the falcon flapped its wings and the water was spilled. This made the king so angry that he flung the bird to the ground and killed it on the spot.
At this moment one of his attendants came up and the king, who was too thirsty to wait again until the cup was filled drop by drop, gave it to the man and told him to climb up and fill it at the spring. The man did so, but as he came down he saw a large serpent lying dead with its head in the water, into which a poisonous foam flowed from its lips. When he came down and told of what he had seen the king was deeply grieved, for he had killed the faithful bird which was seeking to save him from death or danger.
Coming now to later times we find that hawking made its way from Asia into Europe very long ago. Denmark was a famous place for this sport in the far past and it was common in France and England at least as early as the 10th century. The kings of those countries grew very fond of it. When Edward III. of England went to fight in France he took with him thirty falconers and hunted or hawked every day, and Henry VIII. at one time nearly lost his life when out hawking. In recent times it has died away in great part, but is still practiced in some countries.
Such is the history of hawking. Now a few words may be said about the practice. The birds used belong to two classes, the long-winged, dark-eyed falcons and the short-winged, yellow-eyed hawks. The falcons used are the Gerfalcon, Peregrine, Hobby, Merlin, and some others. The hawks used are the Goshawk and the Sparrowhawk. The falcons take their prey by rising above it in the air and darting down upon it. The hawks fly in a straight line and take it by their great speed.
The taming of these birds is a slow process. It was of old the custom to fasten jesses or soft leather straps round their legs and hoods over their heads. A line fastened to the strap kept them from flying away. They were taught to rest and feed on the gloved hand of the trainer and also to make short flights to a "lure," a piece of wood on which food was placed. They were drawn back by the cord tied to the jesses. In this and other ways the birds were taught, and in time could be trusted to fly free and come back to the huntsman's hand.
Leg and Foot of Falcon Showing the Method of Attaching the Fastening
When the hawkers went abroad on a hunt, gay was the show and lively the sport. On horseback, carrying the hawks on their wrists, the gallant company rode briskly away, all of them dressed in fine robes and the hawks also richly "dressed." The bird might have around its neck a collar of gold filagree and over its head a hood of the finest silk, with a plume of colored feathers on top. Little tinkling bells, those of finest sound, hung from the leather leg rings, and the glove on which the bird sat was often spangled with gold, and sometimes adorned with jewels.
While the hood was on the bird would not move, but when the hood was taken off and it saw the prey it was eager to fly. Here is the story of a hawking party as late as 1825. This party set out in the afternoon, riding towards a place frequented by herons—a large, strong bird with which only the strongest falcons could deal. There were four couples of birds, all of the kind known as Peregrine falcons. Each bird had a small bell on one leg and a leather hood, with pieces of red cloth in it to cover each eye.
After some time a heron was seen near at hand. At once the hoods were taken from the heads of two of the falcons and as soon as they had seen the bird they were let loose. Away they flew after the heron, but a crow chanced to cross their track and one of the birds started to chase this, while the other kept on.
When it came near the heron it flew in circles until it was far above it and at length came pouncing down and struck its prey on the back. Down came the two birds, tumbling from a high point to the ground. By this time the crow had escaped and the second falcon came flying up, just in time to see the other falcon and the heron falling. At this instant a rook flew across and the second bird struck at him, bringing him to the ground not far away from the other game.
Up now dashed the falconers, held out the lure, on which was a live pigeon, and secured the game while the birds were making a meal upon the pigeon. Two other herons were taken by the other falcons and the day's sport closed. Such was a scene of hawking in the 19th century. In olden times the game was often much more exciting than this.