THE OSHINGI, OR CIVET
An oshingi with its beautiful, spotted, leopard-like skin, and pretty,
long-ringed tail, was cosily sleeping one day in the deep and dark
hollow of a tree. When the day had passed away, and night had come, he
grew restless in his sleep; for the oshingi belongs to the night
prowlers. At last he opened his eyes, stretched himself, and yawned
several times.
A great storm was raging; the rain was falling heavily, and claps of
thunder followed in quick succession. It was a fearful night. As the
oshingi listened, he said to himself, “What a nice home I have! not a
drop of rain comes in, and the wind cannot penetrate.” Then, with a long
sigh, he added, “But a comfortable home does not give me a meal; and a
nice home, without food, is a poor one. I have been hungry these last
few days, and have several times returned to my lair with an empty
stomach, or had only a scanty meal. I have lived too long in this
neighborhood, and destroyed so many lives that I have frightened away
all the prey. I ought to have departed before this; but I am loath to
give up this comfortable home, one of the best that I have ever had.”
No wonder the oshingi loved his lair. The hollow was very deep, cosey
and soft at the bottom, and no animals would ever have thought that any
one lived there, for the hollow was a few feet above the ground. Though
his abode was pitch dark, his glittering eyes could see everything
there, through the intense darkness, even the smallest grain of sand,
just as if his place had been lighted by electric lights.
“It is too early yet to go out after prey,” resumed the oshingi, “for
the birds are not yet in their heavy sleep. They awaken easily, and
scent danger quickly. They are suspicious, for they fear us, and other
night prowlers who feed upon them. I must wait a while though I am so
hungry. He who is patient and waits, gets the prey.”
Reflecting thus, the oshingi coiled himself up and took another snooze;
but now his heavy sleep was over, and he awoke now and then. At last
about midnight he rose, saying to himself: “Half the night is over.
Every day creature, animal and bird, is in its heaviest sleep, and will
not scent me.”
With the help of his cat-like claws, he ascended his hollow, and when he
came to the top put his head out, looked around, and listened. The storm
was over, so he could hear well.
The oshingi is one of the most cautious and sly of the night prowlers.
He is not of a very large size, with a body of about two feet long and a
tail somewhat longer, and cannot fight big animals. His elongated head
possesses most treacherous eyes. He sniffed the air, and thought there
was no danger. So he came out, and descended the trunk of the tree
backward, his claws firmly imbedded in the bark as a support to prevent
him from tumbling down.
When he had reached the ground, he stopped, and thought a while. He
wondered in what part of the forest it was most likely that game could
be found. He sniffed the air, so as to go against it, in order that the
animals or birds upon which he preyed could not scent him, for the
oshingi have a strong odor.
Having discovered in which direction to go, he started out on his
journey, saying: “I hope I shall find to-night some partridge or
pheasant, or some of the fat green pigeons that perch on the lower
trees. There are so many together that if I do I shall have a glorious
feast. If I am unlucky then, I will go toward a river I know, and prowl
along the shore, and seek for some wild duck resting or feeding on its
banks, or for some other water bird.” He went noiselessly through the
jungle, over the leaves and dead branches. Not one of his steps could be
heard, for they were as light as those of the grasshopper, and did not
make any more noise than a butterfly alighting on a flower or a leaf.
This silent walking is the greatest gift possessed by the oshingis; no
animal has a lighter step in the forest.
But, in spite of all his gifts, of light step, of keen scent, and of
splendid eyesight, he saw no game that night, and returned to his lair
with an empty stomach. It was four o’clock in the morning, about the
usual time the night prowlers return to their homes. Before he went to
sleep, he said: “I must change my quarters. I shall not come back here
again to spend the day, for I shall surely die of starvation in this
neighborhood. How hard I have to work for my living!”
[Illustration: [Civet]]
The following night, the oshingi left his home earlier than usual, for
not only had he to change his abode, but also to find prey. After a long
tramp, he scented a black pheasant, and his eyes glittered with joy at
the prospect of a good meal. When he came near, he saw that the black
pheasant was seated on her nest; and in an instant he pounced upon the
poor bird, cut its jugular vein, and drank its blood, devouring the body
afterward. Then he continued his journey. “Now,” he said, “I have had a
meal, and can look out for a new home.”
Shortly afterward, looking carefully at the trees he passed by, he heard
a noise of something coming toward him, and he hid under the root of a
big tree. The noise was made by kambis that were travelling. After the
kambis had passed, the oshingi came out of his hiding-place, and started
again.
The night was far advanced, and he had to hurry to find a place to sleep
in. At last he found one, though it was not very comfortable, not being
dark enough in daytime. As he lay down to sleep, he twisted his long
tail over his eyes to hide the dim light when the day should come. Just
as he was dropping off to sleep, he heard the cry of partridges calling
to each other, and said to himself, for the oshingi know by the
different noises the birds make what species they belong to, “To-morrow
night I will hunt up those partridges.”
The oshingi did not sleep well, for the place was not very dark, and he
could not help remembering the cosey home he had abandoned. When it was
night he left his hiding-place, and went after the partridges he had
heard in the early morning; but they had gone far away, and he could not
get his supper, and felt very disappointed. Giving up the chase of the
partridges, he looked for a big old tree with a hollow, and ascended
several in the hope of finding good lodgings, but saw none.
Continuing his search, he heard a slight noise. He stopped, and saw a
porcupine near by. But he said: “No matter how hungry I am, I will not
attack you, porcupine. I am afraid of your long and hard quills.” And
both animals went their way.
Soon after the oshingi heard a great noise and ran up a tree to hide. A
large herd of ngoas thereupon appeared, grunting terribly; for they had
found many nuts on the ground, and their grunts were grunts of gladness.
The chief of the herd scented the oshingi, and made for the tree in
which he was hidden. But the oshingi waited for the boars to move on,
and when they had done so, he came down the tree, crying: “What a fright
those horrid ngoas gave me!”
That night the oshingi discovered a fine, deep hollow, and entering it,
explored it with great prudence, saw that it was all right, and rejoiced
greatly, saying to himself: “I hope prey will be plentiful round here,
so that I can enjoy this nice new house of mine for some time.” Then he
looked at everything so as to know the surroundings well.
From his new home the oshingi started every night after prey. At first
he fed well, partridges, black pheasants, and other large birds being
plentiful. He killed many and drank their blood. At last the survivors
were terrified, and departed for another part of the forest.
Then once more the oshingi had a hard time to get his meals, and days of
hunger and starvation came again. He at first thought of going back to
the lair he had left, but reflected to himself: “It has not been long
enough yet since my departure for the partridges, pheasants, and other
birds to return to that neighborhood. I must seek new quarters.”
After two nights’ wandering, he reached the outskirts of a village of
human beings, and, to his great joy, scented chickens. “I like to come
to the habitations of human beings,” he chuckled, “for they always have
chickens, and when I can get into a chicken-coop I am happy.”
But he also scented dogs, which caused him to add, “I must beware of the
dogs, for they are my enemies. Oh, how I hate dogs!” He took great
precautions as he walked in the direction of the village. When near, he
heard human voices and the barking of dogs, which frightened him.
Thereupon he ascended a tree, and, seeing a hole in which to hide and
sleep, he said: “I am going to stay here. I have seen villages of human
beings before, and when they all go to sleep my turn will come, and I
shall have a great time in the chicken-coops.”
The following night the oshingi left his hiding-place to make his raid
upon the chicken-coops. On his way, he said: “I must be very cautious,
for now I am a thief, and must keep out of the way of the human beings
and their dreadful dogs.”
When he approached the village, his searching eyes saw fires burning in
the street, and he heard the human beings talk. Then he went back to the
forest to wait, and after a while returned to spy. This time everybody
was asleep; there was no more noise. The dogs had gone inside the
houses, or were also asleep. It was so quiet that only the wind passing
through the branches of the trees could be heard by the night prowlers.
The oshingi entered the village slyly, walking at first behind the
houses, then in the street. He came to several chicken-coops; but there
was no way of getting in, for they were very tightly made, the people
having had their chickens killed by oshingis before. He walked several
times around each, and noticed a dog asleep in the street. “I must keep
out of the way of this ugly dog,” he said. “Happily they cannot see me
when it is so dark; besides, they do not suspect my presence, and they
cannot hear me walk.” He did not want to run any risks, and walked
toward the end of the street. Suddenly he stopped, for he scented
another chicken-coop. The scent was very strong, for the coop was full
of chickens.
He approached it and walked round it. To his joy, he found a little
opening through which he could push himself. As soon as he had entered,
he saw quantities of chickens perched on sticks, and his eyes glared
like fire with hungry anticipation. In an instant the chickens were
aware of the presence of one of their most inveterate enemies, and, much
frightened, flew from one place to another, cackling very loud.
The oshingi first caught the big rooster by the neck, cut its jugular
vein and drank its blood, then did likewise with the other chickens, and
did not go until they were all dead. He had hardly time to get through
the hole, when the men, hearing the noise made by the chickens, rose and
called their dogs. These dogs knew at once what they were wanted for,
and hunted all round. The oshingi had just time to escape with his life.
The people of the village were very angry when they saw the havoc the
oshingi had wrought, and said, “Let us make traps to catch him.” The
following day, they set traps outside the village, and put chickens in
each of them. But the oshingi did not come back. He knew too much.
The oshingis are very cunning, and it is very seldom that they return to
a village where they have committed depredations. They wait a long while
before coming again.
One night the oshingi came to a river bank and spied on the water a
flock of ducks in the midst of the thick darkness. His eyes followed the
ducks swimming up and down the stream as the fancy took them. They were
very shy, and once in a while through the deep silence of the forest
they uttered subdued quacks, which were warnings to those of the flock
who were approaching too near the shore not to go nearer. Their leader
constantly uttered the note of warning which meant, “Keep in the middle
of the stream.” He feared danger, for two or three weeks before, one
night while feeding quietly on the grass growing on the low bank of the
river, an oshingi had suddenly seized one of the ducks, and the flock
flew away in great fright. The ducks had not forgotten this event and
had been timid ever since.
[Illustration: [Civet]]
The oshingi, tired of waiting, became impatient, and said to himself:
“When are those ducks coming ashore? I am hungry, and I want a meal.
Surely they will land soon.” He did not know that the ducks had such
good memories. But at last several of the ducks came dangerously near
the shore. When the oshingi saw this, he left his hiding-place, and
crawled toward the water through the shrubbery, his belly touching the
ground. He was very cautious in all his movements. The subdued quacking
of the ducks increased his ferocity and appetite.
At last, to the great joy of the oshingi, some of the ducks came within
a few feet of the shore. When he saw this, he said: “Surely I am soon to
have a meal.” But he was again disappointed, for suddenly they veered
round and swam back toward the middle of the stream. Their leader had
given a peculiar quack which called them back; and, when they
approached, he scolded them for being so imprudent, saying also: “Do you
not remember the ferocious oshingi that pounced upon us some time ago?
Do you wish the same fate as our comrade?”
“No, no,” loudly quacked all the ducks.
While the leader of the flock was talking, the oshingi was full of rage,
and said: “Oh, how I hate the water! If it were not for the water, I
should have had a meal of a duck by this time; but I did not dare to
jump, for if I had I should have had to swim to the shore to save my
life instead of catching ducks.”
The oshingi spent the whole night watching the ducks, and at last, as
daylight was soon coming, he went back to his lair, saying, as he walked
away: “Those wretched ducks were too knowing for me; but one of these
days I will be more cunning than they are.”
The time came when the ducks build their nests, but these were on small
islands where they knew the oshingis and other night prowlers could not
reach them.