Ostrich-farming is no child's play. It involves risk in more ways than
one, and sometimes taxes both the courage and strength of the farmer.
In ordinary circumstances the ostrich is a mild, inoffensive creature--
indeed the female is always so; but when a male ostrich is what I may
style nesting--when, enclosed in a large field or paddock, he guards his
wives and his eggs--no lion of the desert, no tiger of the jungle or
kloof, is more ferocious or more savagely bent on the death of any or
all who dare to intrude on his domain.
The power of the ostrich, too, is quite equal to his strength of will.
He stands from seven to nine feet in height, and is very heavy.
His tremendous legs are his only weapons, and his kick is almost, if not
quite, equal to that of a horse. Possessing enormous feet, with two
toes on each, the horny points of which can cut and rip like cold
chisels, he rushes at an adversary and kicks, or hits out,
straightforward, like a prize-fighter. No unarmed man on earth could
stand long before a furious male ostrich without being killed. But
there are one or two weak points about him, which abate somewhat the
danger of his attack. In the first place his power lies only in his
mighty legs, the thighs of which--blue-grey and destitute of feathers--
are like two shoulders of mutton. With his beak he can do nothing, and
his long neck is so weak that if you can only lay hold of it and pull
his head to the ground you are comparatively safe, for he cannot kick
effectively in that position, and devotes all his energies, when thus
caught, to useless attempts to pull his head out of your grasp. But,
then, how are you to get hold of that neck--the root of which stands
nearly as high as your own head--in the face of two claws that go like
battering-rams wrought by lightning? As well might you attempt to lay
hold of a prize-fighter's nose while his active fists are darting out at
you.
A powerful, active man has been known, when attacked while unarmed, to
spring on the bird, grasp a wing with one arm and the body with the
other, and hug it, but there is great danger in this method, because in
the attempt you are pretty sure to receive at least one kick, and that,
if it takes effect, will be quite sufficient to put you out of action.
It also requires much power of endurance, for, hugging a creature that
is strong enough to dance about and lift you off your legs in its wild
efforts to get rid of you, must be hard work. Supposing that you do
succeed, however, in holding on until you work your way along to the
neck and get the head into custody, then you can without much difficulty
choke the bird, but a male ostrich costs about 150 pounds, and one
hesitates to choke 150 pounds, even for the sake of one's life,
especially when the valuable bird belongs to one's friend.
Another and perhaps the best plan, if you are caught unarmed, is to lie
down. An ostrich cannot kick you when you lie flat on the ground, he
can only dance on you, and although that process is unpleasant it is not
necessarily fatal.
The ostrich is easily killed by a blow on the neck with a stout stick,
but this is as objectionable as the choking process, on the ground of
cost. In short, the only legitimate method of meeting a savage papa, in
his own field, is with a strong forked pole eight or nine feet long,
with which you catch the bird at the root of the neck, and thus keeping
him at pole's-length, let him kick and hiss away to his heart's content
till he is tired, or until assistance comes to you, or until you work
him near a wall, when you may jump over and escape, for an ostrich will
not jump.
Often have I gone, thus armed, with my friend Hobson to feed the nesting
ostriches. The risk of attack, I may mention in passing, is not great
when two men go together, because the bird seems undecided which foe to
attack, and generally ends by condescending to pick at the mealies,
(Indian corn), which are thrown down to him.
One morning Hobson and his eldest son Six-foot Johnny and I mounted our
steeds and rode away to the field in which one of the male ostriches
dwelt with his meek brown wives. The wives are always brown, the
husbands are jet-black, with the exception of those magnificent and pure
white feathers in wings and tail which are so much prized and worn by
the fair dames of Europe. Hobson carried a sack of mealies at his
saddle-bow.
There were several male birds on the farm, all of which were
distinguished by name. There were "Master," and "David Marais," and
"Black Jack," and "Blind-boy," (minus one eye!) and "Gouws," etcetera.
Our visit that morning was to David Marais. David was by far the
fiercest of the lot, but he was excessively fond of mealies, and could
be attracted--though by no means appeased--by these.
"Johnny," said Hobson, as we cantered along by the side of the little
stream which caused a strip of bright fertility to wind like a
green-snake over the brown Karroo, and which was, as it were, the
life-blood of the farm, "Johnny, I want you to go to the nest and count
the eggs, while I keep David in play."
"Very well, father."
The order, and the quiet acceptance of it, did not seem to involve much,
yet Johnny had been ordered on somewhat dangerous service that morning,
for David Marais was intensely watchful as well as savage. Several of
the other males, although capable of giving way to temper, were so far
amiable that my friend and I had frequently gone into their enclosures
with our forked sticks and mealies, and had received no worse at their
hands than a threatening attitude or a suspicious look, which passed
away when the food was thrown down; but David's temper was such that we
never ventured into his paddock, contenting ourselves by throwing the
mealies over the hedge or wall that bounded the field. This field, or
enclosure, by the way, was not a small piece of ground which one could
take in at a glance. It was more than a mile in extent, undulating in
form, with a stream bisecting it, and mimosa bushes scattered here and
there, so that from any one point you could not see the entire field, or
ascertain its exact form or size. Sometimes, on going into such a
field, one has to look about for the birds--also to "look out" for them,
as they are prone to sudden assault!
But David Marais required no looking for. His large eagle-eye had
detected us from afar, and we found him at the nearest extremity of the
nearest angle of his grounds ready to give us battle, pacing slowly to
and fro, with that peculiar motion of the wings which indicates
suppressed wrath.
We rode along close to his hedge a short distance, and he marched with
us, brushing against the hedge and showing an anxious desire to get at
us. If there had been a gap in that hedge he would have charged like a
thunderbolt, but there was no gap, and it is a strange fact that an
ostrich cannot leap--at least he _will_ not. The merest trifle of an
obstruction--a bit of wall or hedge over which he could _step_ with
perfect ease--is sufficient to check his advance and keep him in; that
is, if he _walks_ up to it, but he is a stupid bird, and if he _runs_ up
to such an obstruction he may _tumble_ over it, gather himself up on the
other side, and so continue the charge.
On reaching a part of the hedge which dipped into a hollow, Hobson
dismounted and opened the sack with the peace-offering. The bird, after
breasting up to the hedge and finding it impassable, sat down on what
may be styled his elbows, scraped his wings on the ground, and rolled
his head and neck about in a fashion that is indescribable. This, I was
told, was his method of rousing himself, or of relieving his feelings.
It looked more like making a fool of himself. A handful of mealies
seemed to irritate him at first, but by degrees the temptation became
too strong. He commenced to pick a few seeds--ready, however, on the
smallest provocation, to forsake them, charge up to the hedge, and hiss
at us.
"Now, Johnny, I'll keep him in play," said Hobson senior. "You go round
to the nest. Keep well down in the hollows, else he'll be sure to see
you."
Johnny at once rode off. The suspicious David looked after him and
showed a tendency to retire in the direction of his nest, but Hobson
raised his forked stick over the hedge and made a demonstration
therewith. This was more than enough.
Inflated with rage David at once accepted the challenge, and rushed back
to the hedge, over which another handful of mealies were thrown at him,
but mealies had lost much of their power by that time. Thus, with
alternate taunt and temptation was the false attack maintained by the
father, while the real attack was made by the son, at the other
extremity of the fortress.
I followed the real attack. We did not go direct. The bird would at
once have made for its nest had we done so. We rode off in the
direction in which we had come until out of sight, and then, making a
long circuit at full gallop, came round to the other end of the
enclosure, from which point the enemy could not be seen.
There was a wall to cross, then a deep hollow through which the little
stream ran, then a belt of pretty thick bushes, beyond which, on the
open plain, the nest was known to lie--if I may call that a nest which
is a mere hollow in the sand, in which the eggs are laid. Here the
female sits all day while the male marches about on guard. At night the
male sits while the female goes about and feeds. They are most
attentive parents, and there is a fitness in this arrangement as regards
colour, for the brown female squatted on the brown Karroo is almost
invisible in daylight, while the black male is equally invisible during
the darkness of the night.
"You mustn't come with me," said Johnny, dismounting; "it would only
increase the chance of my being seen by David."
I was detailed, therefore, to the inglorious duty of holding the horses,
while my young friend made the assault alone.
He leaped the wall, descended into the bed of the stream, scrambled up
the opposite bank, crossed the clump of small wood, and came out into
the open. Now a short piece of this open--fifty yards or so, perhaps--
was visible from the lower end of the field, where Hobson and David were
still coquetting with each other. Johnny tried to skulk over this open
ground. He might as well have sought to evade the eyes of Argus. The
long-sighted bird caught the very first glint of his cap. Insult and
mealies were alike unavailing now. He forsook the sire and made at the
son with his great compass-like legs, covering the ground in tremendous
as well as rapid strides. No race-horse ever cleared the ground like
David Marais! Johnny saw that the "game was up." Applying his own long
legs to the ground with a will, he rushed at the nest. The female
bounced up, ran a few yards, and squatted in helpless stupidity. Johnny
counted the eggs, turned, and fled. Not a moment too soon! Indeed he
was too late, for the ostrich was already close up, and Johnny's retreat
by the way he had come was cut off; but he turned at a sharp angle, and
made for another clump of bushes, through which he plunged with a wild
hilarious laugh, into the safe retreat of the river-bed. David Marais
could not follow there, but he doubtless consoled himself with the
reflection that he had gallantly defended his wife and little ones, and
had beaten the enemy from the field!
Nothing of all this had I seen, for the belt of bushes hid the actors
from view, but I heard the ringing laugh with rather anxious surprise,
and saw Johnny emerge immediately after from the banks of the stream,
flushed and panting from his adventure.
That I do not exaggerate the power and ferocity of these birds, may be
gathered from an incident which occurred to Hobson himself, and which he
related on our way home.
One morning he rode to the enclosure of the bird named Master, and
entered, intending to feed him and his wife with mealies. Master must
have risen off his wrong side that morning, for, instead of amiably
accepting his breakfast, he made a sudden and furious rush at his
benefactor. Hobson's horse wheeled round and bolted,--no wonder, with
the claw of an ostrich acting as a spur on his flank! The horse was so
frightened that he fairly ran away. Master ran after him, and, being
much fleeter, kept on kicking his legs and flanks, so that they were
soon covered with blood, and once he kicked so high as to cut the
crupper. The horse became almost mad with terror, and quite
ungovernable. It was chased round and round the place, the walls being
too high to leap, and the gate having been closed. At last the horse
dashed madly into a mimosa bush, and stuck fast. The impetuous Master
followed, but, before he could back out, Hobson caught him by the throat
in his powerful grasp. He held on until Master choked. Not wishing to
kill the bird, he then let go, and Master dropped like a stone. Hobson
then galloped to the river, but Master, who recovered immediately, came
rushing on to renew the attack. Hobson, however, had found shelter and
safety behind some bushes in the bed of the stream.
Not long after our visit to David Marais, I went with Six-foot Johnny to
the territory which belonged to Blind-boy. That sagacious bird was not
so blind but that, with his one eye, he observed us coming, and met us
more than half-way. Knowing him to be, comparatively, a peaceable bird,
and being mounted, we entered the enclosure and rode towards him. From
certain symptoms and rufflings of the feathers and cockings of the tail,
however, my companion knew that Blind-boy was not as amiable as might
have been wished.
"Take care," said Johnny.
"Why?" said I.
"Because he's angry."
The signs of wrath did not appear to me very obvious, but I afterwards
came to understand that, in an ostrich, a small amount of demonstration
means an extreme depth of anger.
We rode slowly forward. Blind-boy advanced as slowly, with a dangerous
motion of the wings.
"Keep on this side of the ditch," said Johnny. "Now, then, we'd better
be off."
Before I well understood that it was advisable to get out of the bird's
way, my companion had put spurs to his horse, and was off like an arrow.
Or ever I was aware what my horse meant to do, I was almost thrown to
the ground. He whirled on his hind-legs--without orders,--and went off
like the wind. Nothing but a natural tendency to hold tight with my
knees prevented me from being left beside Blind-boy. We went at
racing-speed to the gate, and then found, on looking back, that we might
have spared ourselves the rush, for Blind-boy was standing as we left
him! The ditch had proved an impassable barrier, and he was gazing
after us in apparent wonder at our haste. My own wonder at the smart
behaviour of my horse was removed when Johnny told me that it was the
identical steed his father had ridden when attacked, as I have
described, by Master.
Johnny himself was once assaulted, trampled on, and severely cut about
the head, by one of these same ostriches, and might have been killed if
his father had not chanced to be at hand. Johnny was younger at the
time, and, in the foolish ardour of youth, attempted to rise when
knocked down. This gave the ostrich the opportunity of once and again
repeating his blows. If the lad had lain still he would have suffered
less. I might draw a beautiful moral on submission and humility out of
this, but won't.
Strange to say, the male ostrich loses nearly all his courage when out
of his own proper paddock or domain. This was illustrated to me one
morning in the case of Gouws. We were walking by the side of his
enclosure, and he was advancing to meet us in his own warlike style,
when we observed that the gate was open. Before we could get near to
close it Gouws marched through. If we had entered his grounds an attack
would have been highly probable, but no sooner did he find himself
outside the accustomed wall than the spirit in him changed. He looked
confusedly round at the unfamiliar objects, then dropped his defiant
tail, and fled.
It cost us the better part of a forenoon, with temperature at 105
degrees in the shade, before we succeeded in driving that bird back into
his own paddock, and all that time he was running away from us,
overwhelmed, apparently, with fear!