There is an old and true saying--"Everything comes to him who waits." I
thought of this saying while on my way to visit the well-known place
near the London Docks where Mr. Jamrach is supposed to keep almost every
rare animal, bird, and reptile, ready to supply the wants of all
customers at a moment's notice. For many long years I had wished to pay
him a visit, but ill-health and other causes had proved a hindrance and
I could hardly believe my wish was going to be realized when I found
myself on the way to his menagerie. After driving through a labyrinth of
narrow, dirty streets, we were at last obliged to get out and walk till
we came to the shop, and then we did indeed find ourselves in the midst
of "animated nature." We had landed amongst the cockatoos, macaws, and
parrots, and they greeted our arrival with such a chorus of shrieks,
screams, and hideous cries that my first desire was to rush away
anywhere out of the reach of such ear-piercing sounds. One had to bear
it, however, if the curious creatures in the various cages were to be
examined, and after a time the uproar grew less, and I could hear a word
or two from Mr. Jamrach, who called my attention to some armadillos,
huge armour-plated animals, very curious, but somehow not attractive as
pets; one could not fondle a thing composed of metal plates, shaped like
a pig, with a tendency to roll itself up into a ball on the slightest
provocation, and even Mr. Jamrach's argument that if I got tired of it
as a pet I could have it cooked, as they were excellent eating, failed
to lead me to a purchase. There was a fine, healthy toucan, with his
marvellous bill, looking sadly out of place in a small cage in such a
dingy place. Did he ever think of his tropical forest home, I wondered,
and wish himself in happier surroundings? A long wooden box with wire
front contained rows and rows of Grass Parrakeets: many hundreds must
have been on those perches, one behind the other, poor little patient
birdies, sitting in solemn silence, never moving an inch, for they were
wedged in as closely as they could sit and how they could eat and live
seemed a mystery. As I was in quest of some small rodents I was asked to
follow Mr. Jamrach to another place where the animals were kept. We came
to a back yard with dens and cages containing all kinds of tenants, from
fierce hyenas and wolves to tame deer, monkeys, cats, and dogs. A chorus
of yelps and barks and growls sounded a little uninviting, and a caution
from Jamrach, to mind the camel did not seize my young friend's hat,
made us aware of a stately form gazing down upon us from a recess we had
not before noticed. Every nook and corner seemed occupied, and in order
to see a kangaroo rat I was invited up a rickety ladder into a loft
where a Japanese cat, a large monkey, and sundry other creatures lived.
I did not take to the kangaroo rat, he was too large and formidable to
be pleasant, and was by no means tame, but to be pulled out of the cage
by his long tail was, I confess, enough to scare the mildest quadruped.
At length I was shown some Peruvian guinea-pigs. Wonderful little
creatures! With hair three or four inches long, white, yellow and black,
set on anyhow, sticking out in odd tufts, one side of their heads white
and the other black, their eyes just like boot buttons, they _were_
captivating; and a pair had to be chosen forthwith, and packed in a
basket with a tortoise and a huge Egyptian lizard, and with these spoils
I was not sorry to leave this place of varied noises and smells. The
lizard was about fourteen inches long, a really grand creature. He came
from the ruins of ancient Egypt, and looked in his calm stateliness as
though he might have gazed upon the Pharaohs themselves. When placed in
the sun for a time he would sometimes deign to move a few inches, his
massive, grey, scaly body looking very like a young crocodile. I was
greatly teased about my fondness for "Rameses," as I called this new and
majestic pet; there was a great fascination about him, and as I really
wished to know more of his ways and habits, I carried the basket in
which he lived everywhere with me indoors and out, and studied all
possible ways of feeding him; but alas! nothing would induce him to eat.
After gazing for five minutes at the most tempting mealworm, he would at
last raise up his mighty head and appear to be revolving great ideas to
which mealworms and all sublunary things must give place. Jamrach told
me that the lizard would drink milk, so a saucerful was placed before
him, and once he did drink a few drops, but generally he walked into and
over the saucer as if it did not exist.
I believe the poor creature had been without food so long that it had
lost the power of taking nourishment, and to my great regret I found it
grew weaker and thinner, and at last it died, and all I could do was to
send the remains to a naturalist to be preserved somewhat after the
fashion of its great namesake.
The odd little guinea-pigs were named Fluff and Jamrach, and were a
source of much amusement. As they could not agree, and as the fights
grew serious, Jamrach was banished to the stable and Fluff occupied a
cage in the dining-room. When let out it was curious to see how he would
always keep close to the sides of the room--never would he venture into
the middle, the protection of the skirting board seemed indispensable,
and when let out under the tulip-tree he ran round the trunk in the same
way, only occasionally making an excursion to the edge of the branches
which rested on the ground, the space beyond was a _terra incognita_
which could not be explored by the timid little beastie.
There the two little guinea-pigs enjoyed a happy life on fine days and
grew to be friends at last, grunting little confidences one to the other
and going to sleep side by side. They had to be watched and their
liberty a good deal curtailed when we found a weasel began to appear
upon the scene, and as it is proverbially difficult to catch a weasel
either awake or asleep, he has not at present been captured. I much fear
if he ever attacked the little Peruvians they would stand a poor chance
of their lives, for they have no idea of self-defence and would fall an
easy prey to such a fierce, relentless persecutor. Perhaps the gardener
may devise some way of trapping the wary little creature, so that my
little friends may dwell in peace under the shady tree.
As the winter came on the cold prevented Fluff going out-of-doors, and
he led a most inactive life. I don't think he ever had more than two
ideas in his little brain--he just lived to eat and sleep, and was about
as interesting as a stuffed animal would have been. He is the only
instance of any animal I have ever known who seemed to be literally
without a single habit, apparently without affection, without a temper
good or bad, with no wishes or desires except to be let alone to doze
away his aimless life.
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