For the opening of the Hippodrome we had imported a drove of nearly
forty ostriches and had quartered them at the American Institute. The
birds attracted a great deal of attention, not only on account of their
rarity, but also on account of their magnificent plumage, some of them
being marvels of natural splendor. They would walk around their
enclosure with the most majestic gait imaginable. Among the
professional spectators one morning was Mr. J. J. Nathans, a retired
circus proprietor. Mr. Nathans wore in his scarf a very valuable
diamond stud, and the stone evidently attracted a great deal of the
attention of the birds. They would turn their heads around and the
gleam in their small eyes would rival that of the stone. Suddenly one
of the ostriches made a vicious peck at Mr. Nathans. That gentleman
immediately drew back, but too late to save the precious stone. The
bird had swallowed a $400 solitaire! Mr. Nathans ever afterwards
admired ostriches from a distance.
At the American Institute we had placed the ostriches in charge of an
old employe named Delaney. This man had noticed that for some time two
of the male birds had been pecking at each other and, to use his own
expression, were "spoiling for a fight." This increasing viciousness
one day culminated in a battle royal.
The morning of that day both seemed to be in a particularly ugly mood,
and the rest of the drove gave them a wide berth. Every now and then
one of them would stretch out his long neck and, with head uplifted,
give vent to a sharp hissing sound. This was evidently a challenge, for
it would be immediately taken up and answered by the other. They would
follow each other around the wooden enclosure, striking viciously at
each other. As by concerted action all the female birds huddled
themselves together at one end of the enclosure and eight or ten males
took up positions just in front as if to protect them. This left the
enclosure almost clear for the two belligerents, and they went at it in
fearful earnest.
Word was immediately sent me, but neither I nor any of my employes were
on terms of sufficient intimacy with them to justify a personal attempt
at arbitration. Delaney, however, armed himself with a stout club,
deliberately threw himself into the breech and attempted to separate
them. In doing so he only exposed himself to the risk of sustaining
severe bodily injuries. The birds took no notice of him whatever, but
continued to fight, uttering at times a series of piercing screams and
hisses, They would swing around each other and land fearful blows.
Their mouths were wide open, their eyes red and hideous, and their
magnificent plumage ruffled, until the spectators, while deploring the
fight, could not help admiring the splendid appearance of the birds in
their rage. The smaller of the two was the more cautious. After a
severe blow he would with some difficulty recover his equilibrium and,
running off a little distance would suddenly wheel about and deal the
big fellow two or three blows in rapid succession.
Delaney jumped between them and used his club on their long necks, but
without any effect, for the birds seemed tireless. Their cries grew
harsher and louder and the resounding blows fell like the beats of an
automatic sledgehammer. Suddenly a most peculiar cry was heard. The
others of the herd seemed to manifest more attention; and the two
principals spread their wings, like the dragons of old, and made the
final onslaught. Screaming with frightful shrillness and with their
little bloodshot eyes gleaming hideously they made the crucial rush.
Just as they were within a few feet of each other, Delaney managed to
strike the larger bird a severe blow on the neck. The creature wavered
for a moment and then fell prostrate. Another peculiar cry came from
the smaller bird and both principals receded from each other. They were
about to resume hostilities when a second blow brought the larger bird
to the floor and the other one seeing this, evidently adjudged himself
the victor, for he walked proudly away, followed by many of the
admiring female birds. We immediately took steps to prevent a
repetition of this remarkable fight by keeping the combatants in
separate pens.
The fight, however, was most stirring and splendid, and the birds
themselves seemed to be the very embodiment of knightly pride, so
manifestly aggressive did they look in their ruffled plumage. Alas for
vanity! Scarcely twelve hours had passed when a message was brought me
from Delaney to come at once to the ostrich pen. I did so, expecting to
hear of another combat of feathered gladiators. Instead a sorry sight
met my eyes. During the night some vandal had plucked the brilliant
plumage from the birds and left them miserable and dejected specimens
of despoiled pride. I would cheerfully have given $1,000 to have
discovered the miscreant. As for the birds, the life seemed to have
left them. They would gaze sadly at each other, peer at their own
denuded bodies, and with an indescribably piteous expression, slink
away into corners as if inexpressibly ashamed of their appearance.
Every possible inquiry was made in the hope of finding out the vandals
who had plucked their feathers, but in vain. I dare say, if the truth
were known, some of our own men secured the plumes. The birds did not
regain their beauty for many moons, and all we got that season for our
big outlay was the thrilling spectacle of the ostrich fight.