WHILE on the subject of noxious creatures, we remember that one, if not more, of the spiders of Madagascar must be included in the list. This is a small arachnid, about the size and shape of a marble, shining glossy black in colour, except for a small red spot on the fundament. It is greatly dreaded by the natives, who believe its bite to be fatal, and it is probably so if cauterisation and other remedies are not immediately applied. Dr Vinson, a French naturalist, ascertained that this spider, called Mènavòdy by the people, is closely allied to the malignant Latrodectus of Elba and Corsica, whose bite is believed to be fatal, and also to another spider found in Martinique, which is equally dangerous. People bitten by this Madagascar spider scream out with pain at intervals of a minute or two, as if it came on in paroxysms. I remember that one of our servants when bringing one of these spiders to look at took care to hold it at a very respectful distance from himself, at the end of a long stick.

As we push through the bushes we break through many spiders’ webs, and are struck by the extraordinary shape of some of those whose snares we unwittingly destroy by our passing along. Here is one, small and reddish in colour, but much broader than it is long, each side projecting into a long sharp spike—indeed it is spiky in several directions, and is utterly unlike any other spider we know of. This is, I believe, a species of Cærostris (C. stygiana?), and belongs to a genus of which several species have names denoting their demoniacal shape and colouring—e.g. avernalis, stygiana, etc.

As we stop to observe his geometric web, and his bizarre shape, we see on the tree to which several of his main “guys” are fixed a very different spider’s house and a very different spider from our angular friend just mentioned. This creature is a much larger species than the other, with jet-black legs and satiny dark grey abdomen as large as a good-sized nut. He apparently hunts his prey, for he has no net, but hides himself in an inverted cup-shaped house of strong web. As I tap the top of this retreat he shams dead and tumbles down into the grass, from which he will presently ascend as soon as the enemy is clear off the ground.

Close by this hunting spider’s home we see the large web of a third species, quite different from the other two. At first sight this appears to be the same insect as the large Nephila, which is so plentiful in Imèrina, in orchards and outside houses. A closer inspection, however, shows that it is a different species from that common large spider, for this one has a long filbert-shaped abdomen, striped with brown lines, very different from the golden and silvery markings of the more abundant species. It appears to be strictly a forest spider and seems rather rare.

In rambling along the edge of one of the pretty rice-valleys north of Ambòhimànga, I came across a species I had not met with before. This was of medium size, but was striped in transverse lines of white and black across the abdomen, so as to give it a zebra-like appearance. The under side was almost white; altogether it is a handsome species, and is probably still undescribed scientifically. It makes a geometrical web, and, like several other Madagascar spiders, puts the web into rapid vibration if it is disturbed. Some species draw up their legs close to the body when lying in wait in the centre of their web, so that they too resemble a small lump of earth or a stone. Is not this also done as a disguise? It seems to me highly probable. Other species have the habit of stretching out their legs in couples, so as to seem almost as if they had only four or six legs instead of eight, and thus appear to mimic insects. Is this also intended to hide their predaceous character?

A traveller through the Tanòsy country, south-east coast, speaks of the uncanny aspect of one of the villages in which he stayed; and he says that what increased his impression of it, as like a town of wicked enchanters, was that all the houses were festooned and closely linked together overhead by tangled masses of gigantic spiders’ webs, amongst which lay in wait monstrous black spiders. Some of the coast villages, he says, were almost completely roofed in by these great webs. Spaces of quite thirty feet have been observed spanned by the lines of the nephila mentioned in a former chapter; and I have noticed that the angles and outer spaces of its great web are frequently filled up by the minute geometric webs of smaller species. These lesser fry appear to be tolerated, if not encouraged, by their giant neighbour, as they probably catch what would be insignificant to her, and very likely clear her web of what she rejects; and so they all live together in harmony in a small colony.

Looking about in the undergrowth for wild flowers and fruit, and happening to rub against the stem of one of the bushes, a small rough roundish ball falls off on to the ground; this appears exactly like a bit of round wrinkled bark, but on watching for a minute or two, it develops four pairs of legs, and runs nimbly away under cover, revealing itself as a spider, with a marvellous protective resemblance to its surroundings. Unless the creature actually moves, it is impossible to detect it, it is so exactly like a knobby bit of the brown bark.

Protective resemblance in quite a different style appears in a small spider, perfectly white in colour—thorax, legs and abdomen—which scuttles out of the coralla of certain white flowers when these are examined or shaken. This also, unless it moves, is all but invisible; and there can be no doubt that it is thus enabled to catch the many small flies which are attracted by the honey and fragrance of the flowers. A larger and green spider, a handsome species, with a long oval abdomen striped with red, probably also a hunter, thanks to its close resemblance to green leaves and the pale reddish veining seen on many leaves, by which it is thus protected from observation until it can pounce upon its prey. This is one species of the many spiders which are caught by some of the solitary wasps, as described in Chapter VII.

As we notice these curious disguises in spiders, as well as in numbers of other living creatures, we are reminded of the old nursery tales and fables of the gift of invisibility supposed to be conferred by certain plants, or by certain charms or ceremonies. With these spiders, as well as in many other creatures, some lower, and others much higher, than them in organisation, this power of becoming at will unseen, even under the closest observation, is no fable, but a veritable fact. There is a curious habit which I have observed in several species of Malagasy spiders which is apparently also used for protection. If they are disturbed, or if their web is shaken, they immediately throw themselves into a state of violent vibration, so that the eye cannot follow them; and this rapid motion is continued for two or three minutes, until the supposed danger has passed away. It would seem as if this must be done to confuse a possible enemy intending to attack them.

Besides the red-spot spider, there is another kind called by the natives Fòka; this is rather common in gardens and is extremely like a small crab, with a lozenge-shaped abdomen; it is covered with tubercles, and its legs are roughened, like those of a crustacean. Its bite is followed by swelling, which spreads from the wounded part through the whole body. This dangerous spider’s bite is said to be often fatal. There is another spider, apparently a species of Mygale, called by the people Tàrabìby, found fifty to sixty miles west of the capital, whose bite is also said to be dangerous, if not actually fatal. It appears to be a trap-door species. Besides this one, another species of trap-door spider is also said to be found in Imèrina, but I have not seen a specimen myself; it is said to leave the door of its dwelling open.

The illustration given herewith will give a better idea than any mere description can of the strange shapes of many Madagascar spiders. The largest figure shows an Epeira of extraordinary shape; it will be seen that the abdomen is like a set of three cones, fixed into one another and terminated by a sharpish point. A still more bizarre figure is presented by Epeira mitralis, as it crouches, fixed close to a branch or twig; whether viewed from the back or front or side, it is equally “uncanny” in its appearance. Then, again, the two Gastera-canthæ, with their bodies much broader than they are long, are very unlike our ordinary idea of a spider, while the formidable spikes with which they are armed would appear a very efficient protection from any insect-eating bird or beast. The rather diabolical-looking Thomisus foka, with its crab-like pincers, is much dreaded by the Malagasy, as giving a fatal bite, if speedy remedies are not applied. Happily, it is not very common.

There is a considerable variety in the webs of Malagasy spiders. Here is one which may be seen by hundreds, filling up the space between the sharp-pointed leaves of the aloes. At first sight it appears only a tangled mass of web, but on closer examination we see that the groundwork is a geometrical web in the centre, but as it is stretched horizontally, and not vertically, it is cup-shaped. But from it, above and below, stretches a labyrinth of lines, like the crossing and recrossing of the lianas in the forest. In the centre of this maze of lines the owner of the structure lies in wait, a small spider, handsomely marked with black and white. Not far off a grey silken bag is hung, which contains the eggs, from which a swarm of little spiders will eventually proceed, not bigger than small ants.

A word or two may be added about a very common house spider which is abundant in Imèrina. This is a rather large species, light brown in colour, but its peculiarity is that it is extremely thin and flat—a case almost of extension without thickness, as it is hardly thicker than a piece of stout paper; and so it is enabled to wait for its prey hidden in narrow and almost imperceptible cracks. It is emphatically a hunting spider and makes apparently no nest or web, and it is amusing to see the adroit way in which it will cautiously approach the edge of a crack in a board and sweep off an unwary fly.

One more curious spider may be noticed here; this has a very small body, hardly larger than a big pin’s head, but it has extraordinarily long thread-like legs, covering a very wide area when compared with its minute body.

There must be still a large number of these Arachnidæ yet unknown to science, for they are very numerous in species in some localities. I remember spending an afternoon, many years ago, on a hill a few miles south of the capital, together with two or three friends, hunting spiders. We caught at least thirty different species among the bushes on the hill-top and slopes. Doubtless some of these are described and figured in one of the volumes of M. Grandidier’s great work on Madagascar, still in progress. But there are probably a much larger number of these creatures still awaiting the careful observations of anyone who will note their interesting habits and homes, and their very varied appearance and structure.

I fancy my readers will now say, you have told us a good deal about the insects, and something about the reptiles and birds of the forest, but are there no four-footed animals in the Madagascar woods except the wild boar? Yes, there certainly are many such, for there are at least fifty species of quadrupeds already known in addition to the lemurs; but as they are, most of them, small—sixteen are species of rats and mice, and twenty-three are a kind of hedgehog, and therefore are burrowing animals—they are not at all conspicuous and must be sought for if we want to observe their habits; and the ten species of carnivora are also mostly small in size. Leaving for the present the carnivora and the rodentia, let me say here what can be said of interest about a group of small animals which are in habit and appearance much like the European hedgehogs, being of the same order (the insect-eaters), but belonging to a distinct family, the Centetidæ, which, except for one genus, are peculiar to Madagascar. Some of these animals have a covering of strong spines, while in other species this consists rather of firm prickly hairs, which, however, do not cover the whole of the body. The larger kinds, called Tràndraka by the Malagasy, are used by them for food, and have very much the taste of pork. (I have eaten them once or twice, but they are rather rich and greasy.) They are found in the woods, but especially in the scattered brushwood in the vicinity of the forests; and we occasionally met with two or three varieties of these harmless creatures while rambling in the outskirts of the woods. Our dog often chased and attempted to worry them, but she usually came back with her mouth and nose stuck full of prickles and looking like a pincushion, and apparently very uncomfortable.

The tail-less tenrec (Centetes ecaudatus) is the largest and best known of its family. Its manner of life is remarkable, for it passes half the year, the cold season, in a profound sleep, in a burrow which it excavates about May or June. The female is very prolific, bringing forth from twelve to twenty-two young ones, which are bravely defended by the mother against every enemy. Their food consists chiefly of earthworms, and also of roots, fruits and insects. They sleep almost constantly during the day, while they are very active during the night; and what has been here said of the Tràndraka as to habits, food, etc., may be taken as representing what might be said of most of the Centetidæ. The striped tenrec is about the size of a mole, and is streaked with black and yellow, as are indeed the young of other species. The spiny tenrec is much like our European hedgehog, as it is covered with strong spines, and can roll itself up into a ball when attacked. Another species, called Sòra by the natives, is about five inches long. A female of this kind was one day brought to us for sale, together with eight or nine tiny young ones only a few days old. These were prettily banded with yellow and brown stripes, their hair being still soft. They were about the size of a large egg, and a most curious little family of creatures they looked. The rice tenrec inhabits the plains between the two lines of forest, and does immense injury to the rice crops by burrowing into the earth and rooting up the young plants. Another species (and genus) is strikingly modified for aquatic life, having webbed toes, and a thick and powerful tail. The smallest species known is only two inches long, with a tail of three inches. Small as the animals of this family are, they are remarkable from the fact that in no equally confined area are they represented by so many peculiar types as in Madagascar. But it is still more remarkable that the only other known genus of Centetidæ is found in the West India Islands; two portions of the same family being separated from each other by an extensive continent as well as by a deep ocean.

These sketches of the forest would be very incomplete without saying something about what are the most characteristic animals of Madagascar—viz. the lemurs; for though there are a few allied forms found in Africa on the one side, and in Southern Asia on the other, this island is the home of Lemuroid animals. It was indeed proposed to call a supposed former continent in the Indian Ocean by the name of “Lemuria.” It must be said, however, that there are few of them to be seen in the neighbourhood of the sanatorium, although the cries of some may be heard, a strange long-drawn-out wailing sound, as if of people in distress, or children crying. Yet it was always a pleasant sound to me, as a sign of life, and probably of enjoyment, in these active and harmless denizens of the woods. There are no fewer than thirty-nine different species of these animals living in Madagascar, of which twenty-nine are the true lemurs, while the other ten are closely allied to them and are lemur-like (Lemuroida). The eastern and north-eastern forests contain about a third of the larger number; and M. Grandidier has pointed out that while some species have a wide range, others have a very distinctly defined habitat, which is frequently limited by two rivers, one to the north and the other to the south of their district.

Three species of the Propitheques (Lemuroida) are known by the Malagasy under the common name of Sìmpona. They live in companies of from six to eight, and are diurnal animals; one may see them morning and evening, when the heat is not too great, leaping in the woods from tree to tree in search of food. Often they may be surprised at sunrise, says M. Grandidier, squatting on the fork of a tree, their long legs bent under them, touching the chin, their hands resting on their knees, stretching out their arms and legs so as not to lose a single ray of the newly risen sun. The food of these animals is entirely vegetable; and they are formed for purely arboreal life, for there is a membrane along the arms and legs which acts, to a certain extent, as a parachute, so that they make leaps of from twenty-five to thirty feet without apparent effort, and they seem to fly through the air. On the rare occasions when they leave the woods they advance by leaps, as if their feet were tied together, and have a most comical appearance as they go across a bit of open ground. One of these sìmpona is silvery-grey in colour, with black head and neck; another is entirely white, except for its dark brown face; and a third species is black or dark brown in colour. Of the true lemurs, I had the good fortune once to see a pair of the kind called red lemur (Lemur varius, var. ruber) cross a path near the house; these were large and handsome animals, warm reddish-brown in colour, and took astonishing leaps in a most graceful manner; but they were out of sight in an instant, and I can easily believe what is said by collectors, that it is easier to shoot a flying bird than a lemur in motion.

In the small streams which occur at the bottom of many of the ravines, we may often come across the curious nests of the pensile weaver-bird (Ploceus pensilis), which are beautifully and ingeniously constructed, shaped like an inverted chemical retort, and are suspended from the extremities of the branches of the trees and usually over running water. These nests are about a foot or fourteen inches long, the bulb giving ample room for the eggs or nestlings, and the tube, forming the entrance from below, being three to four inches in diameter. The native name for this species, Fòdifètsy—i.e. the “Crafty Fòdy”—recognises this skill of the bird in protecting its young. The nests of another species are large and simply globular in shape, and, from thirty to forty in number, may be seen hanging from a single tree. The Madagascar bee-eater is one of the most beautiful birds to be seen in the forest, both from its elegance of form and its bright colouring of various shades of green (Merops superciliosus). It has a very long curved beak, and an extremely long tail, with two long feathers extending beyond the others. Its nests are excavated about a foot deep on a sand-bank bordering streams.

Another group of birds, also conspicuous from their size and colouring, must be noticed here—viz. the couas, a genus of cuckoos peculiar to Madagascar, and of which twelve species are known. They are large and handsomely coloured, and are, says M. Grandidier, strictly local in their habitat, most of them being confined to one district, out of which they are never found. Five species of coua inhabit the forests or wooded regions, while the other seven live on the plains. The blue coua (Coua cerulea), the only species I have seen in the upper forest, is fairly common, and is conspicuous from its colouring; while the crested coua is found all over the wooded regions. One of the twelve species goes from rock to rock, seeking the large land-shells which form its principal food (Coua delalandei). These molluscs it breaks by striking their shells against a stone, from which habit comes its native name of Famàki-sìfotra, or “snail-breaker.”

But several chapters would be required to say all that might be said of interest about the birds inhabiting the upper belt of woods, and I will not weary my readers by further descriptions, in this place at least. I will conclude this chapter by quoting a few sentences written about the wonder and mystery of the Madagascar forests by my late friend, Mr Baron; for no one knew better than he did how to explore and how to describe them.

After speaking of the fatigue of travelling in the forest, Mr Baron says:

I have of course, during many journeys in Madagascar, spent many a night in small villages surrounded by forest, but I have not had quite the experiences described by Mr Baron in another passage which I shall venture to quote. Mr Baron says: