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.
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