Again, the "useful effect" is a maximum, if b1d1 is a maximum. When
this is the case, then
b1 = 4/9 b. (2)
And
3 d1 = d. (3)
In other words, an animal gets through most work in the day if he carries
4/9 of the greatest load he could just stagger under; in which case he
will be able to travel 1/3 of the distance he could walk if he carried no
load at all. (Machinery requires no repose; and therefore d, the distance
per day, is convertible into v, the velocity of movement.)
As an example:--Suppose a man is able to walk 10 miles a day, with a load
of 130 lbs., and 33 miles a day when he carries nothing. Then, from
equation (1), the value of b (the burden under which he would be brought
to a standstill) would be about 267 1/2; and the best load for him, from
equation (2), would be 119 lbs., which he would be able to carry,
according to equation (3), 11 miles a day.
Horses.--The mode of taking wild horses is by throwing the lasso, whilst
pursuing them at full speed, and dropping a noose over their necks, by
which their speed is soon checked, and they are choked down.
Mr. Rarey's sixpenny book tells all that can be told on the subject of
horse-breaking; but far more lies in the skill and horse-knowledge of the
operator, than in the mere theory. His way of mastering a vicious horse
is by taking up one fore-foot, bending the knee, slipping a loop over the
knee until it comes to the pastern-joint, and then fixing it tight. The
loop must be caused to embrace the part between the hoof and the
pastern-joint firmly, by the help of a strap of some kind, lest it should
slip. The horse is now on three legs, and he feels conquered. If he gets
very mad, wait leisurely till he becomes quiet, then caress him, and let
the leg down and allow him to rest; then repeat the process. If the horse
kicks in harness, drive him slowly on three legs.
In breaking-in a stubborn beast, it is convenient to physic him until he
is sick and out of spirits, or to starve him into submission.
Salt keeps horses from straying, if they are accustomed to come up to the
camp and get it. But it is a bad plan as they are apt to hang about,
instead of going off to feed. They are so fond of salt, that they have
been known to stray back to a distant house where they had been allowed
to lick it.
Shooting Horse.--Spur him as much as you will, but never use a whip;
else, whenever you raise your gun to fire, he will feel a dread that it
may be the whip, and will be unsteady.
Horse neighing.--Mungo Park tells how he clutched his horse's muzzle with
both hands to prevent his neighing, when he was in concealment and
horsemen were passing near.
Addenda.--In climbing a steep hill hang on to the tail of your horse as
you walk behind him. Horses are easily driven in file by securing the
halter of each horse to the tail of the one before him. To swim horses
across a river, to sleep by their side when there is danger, to tether
them, and to water them from wells, are all described elsewhere. (See
"Horses" in index.)
Mules.--Mules require men who know their habits; they are powerful beats,
and can only be mastered with skill and address. A savage will not assist
in packing them, for he fears their heels: the Swiss say mules have
always an arriere-pensee. They have odd secret ways, strange fancies, and
lurking vice. When they stray, they go immense distances; and it is
almost beyond the power of a man on foot to tend them in a wild country:
he can neither overtake them easily, nor, when overtaken, catch them. The
female is, in most breeds, much the more docile. They suffer from African
distemper, but in a less degree than horses. The following descriptions
of mule caravans are exceedingly graphic and instructive:--"The madrina
(or godmother) is a most important personage. She is an old steady mare,
with a little bell round her neck, and wheresoever she goes the mules,
like good children, follow her. If several large troops are turned into
one field to graze in the morning, the muleteer has only to lead the
madrinas a little apart and tinkle their bells, and, although there may
be 200 or 300 mules together, each immediately knows its own bell, and
separates itself from the rest. The affection of these animals for their
madrina saves infinite trouble. It is nearly impossible to lose an old
mule: for, if detained several hours by force, she will, by the power of
smell, like a dog, track out her companions, or rather the madrina; for,
according to the muleteer, she is the chief object of affection. The
feeling, however, is not of an individual nature; for I believe I am
right in saying that any animal with a bell will serve as a madrina."
(Charles Darwin.)
"After travelling about 14 miles, we were joined by three miners; and our
mules, taking a sudden liking for their horses, jogged on at a more brisk
rate. The instincts of the mulish heart form an interesting study to the
traveller in the mountains. I would (were the comparison not too
ungallant) liken it to a woman's; for it is quite as uncertain in its
sympathies, bestowing its affections when least expected, and, when
bestowed, quite as constant, so long as the object is not taken away.
Sometimes a horse, sometimes an ass, captivates the fancy of a whole
drove of mules, but often an animal nowise akin. Lieutenant Beale told me
that his whole train of mules once galloped off suddenly, on the plains
of the Cimarone, and ran half a mile, when they halted in apparent
satisfaction. The cause of their freak was found to be a buffalo-calf,
which had strayed from the herd. They were frisking around it in the
greatest delight, rubbing their noses against it, throwing up their
heels, and making themselves ridiculous by abortive attempts to neigh and
bray; while the poor calf, unconscious of its attractive qualities, stood
trembling in their midst. It is customary to have a horse in the
mule-trains of the traders of North Mexico, as a sort of magnet to keep
together the separate atoms of the train, for, whatever the temptation,
they will never stray from him." (Taylor's 'Eldorado.')
Asses.--Notwithstanding his inveterate obstinacy, the ass is an excellent
and sober little beast, far too much despised by us. He is not only the
most enduring, but also one of the quickest walkers among cattle, being
usually promoted to the leadership of a caravan. He is nearly equal to
the camel in enduring thirst, and thrives on the poorest pasture, suffers
from few diseases, and is unscathed by African distemper. The long
desert-roads and pilgrim-tracts of North Africa are largely travelled
over by means of asses.
Asses taught not to kick.--Mungo Park says that the negroes, where he
travelled, taught their asses as follows:--They cut a forked stick, and
put the forked part into the ass's mouth, like the bit of a bridle; they
then tied the two smaller parts together above his head, leaving the
lower part of sufficient length to strike against the ground if the ass
should attempt to put his head down. It always proved effectual.
Not to bray.--Messrs. Huc and Gabet, who were distracted by the continual
braying of one of their asses throughout the night, appealed to their
muleteer: he put a speedy close to the nuisance by what appears to be a
customary contrivance in China, viz., by lashing a heavy stone to the
beast's tail. It appears that when an ass wants to bray he elevates his
tail, and, if his tail be weighted down, he has not the heart to bray. In
hostile neighbourhoods, where silence and concealment are sought, it
might be well to adopt this rather absurd treatment. An ass who was being
schooled according to the method of this and the preceding paragraph,
both at the same time, would be worthy of an artist's sketch.
Oxen.--Though oxen are coarse, gross, and phlegmatic beasts, they have
these merits: they are eminently gregarious, and they ruminate their
food. The consequence is, first, that one, two, or more, are very seldom
missing out of a drove; and, secondly, that they pick up what they
require, in a much shorter time than horses, mules, etc., who have to
chew as they eat. Oxen require less tending than any other beasts of
burden.
To train a Pack-ox.--An ox of any age, however wild he may be, can be
broken in, in three or four days, so as to carry a pack of about 70 lbs.;
though it is true that he will frequently kick it off during the journey,
and give excessive trouble. It would be scarcely possible to drive more
than three of these newly-taught oxen at a time, on account of the
frequent delays caused by the unruliness of one or other of them. Muich
depends on the natural aptitude of the animal in estimating the time
required for making a steady pack-ox, some will carry a good weight and
go steadily after only a fortnight's travel; some will never learn. But
in all cases they prove unruly at the beginning of a journey.
To break-in an ox, take a long thong or cord, make a noose at one end of
it, and let two or three men lay hold of the other; then, driving all the
herd together in a clump, go in among them and, aided by a long stick,
push or slip the noose round the hind leg of the ox that you want, and
draw tight. He will pull and struggle with all his might, and the other
oxen will disperse, leaving him alone dragging the men about after him.
Next, let another man throw a noose round his horns, and the beast is,
comparatively speaking, secured. It is now convenient to throw the animal
down on his side, which is easily done by the judicious tugging at his
tail and at the thongs. To keep him on the ground, let one man take the
tail, and, passing it round one thigh, hold him down by that, while one
or two men force the horns down against the ground. His nose has next to
be pierced. A stick, shaped like a Y, eight inches long, is cut of some
tough wood; and the foot of it, being first sharpened, is forcibly poked
through the wall that divides the nostrils, and a thin thong is tied
firmly to either end of this nose-stick. The thong is gathered together,
and wound in a figure of 8 round the two horns, where it henceforward
remains while the animal feeds, and by clutching at which, he is at any
time caught.
Next for the packing: as the ox lies on the ground, scrape a hole in the
sand under his belly, and then, having laid a few skins on his back, pass
a thong round him and them, several times; tie the ends fast, and, taking
a stick, pass it through and twist it round, until the lashings are
extremely tight, then let it be secured. Now let the ox go, and get
quickly out of his way, in case he should be savage. When the ox gets up,
he is sulky and ferocious by turns; and kicks, jumps, and bellows, but at
last joins his companions.
If he has been well packed, the skins will keep in place and not fall
off; but whether they do or not, he must be re-caught and re-packed every
day. A young ox is generally more difficult to break-in than an old one:
I do not know why. An ox requires no pack-saddle; his back is too round
to carry one with advantage. It is therefore usual to lay spare skins,
etc., upon him, and over these the bags that have to be packed. A great
length of thong is required to lash them. It is convenient to make a pair
of very large saddle-bags out of skin or canvas, which require simply to
be placed on the ox's back and there girthed.
To train an Ox to carry a Rider.--It takes a very long time to train an
ox to carry a riding-saddle well and steadily: indeed, very few oxen can
be taught to go wherever they may be guided by the rider; they are of so
gregarious a nature, that, for the most part, they will not move a step
without companions. Hence, those oxen only are thought worth breaking-in
which are observed to take the part of leaders of the drove when
pasturing, and which are therefore supposed to have some independence of
disposition. The first time of mounting an ox to break him in, is a work
of almost certain mischance: for the long horns of the ox will often
reach the rider, however far back he may sit, and the animal kicks and
bucks in a way that severely tries the best of seats. All riding-oxen's
horns should have the tips sawn off. After being mounted a very few
times, the ox goes pretty steadily; but it is long before he learns to
carry a rider with ease to himself. I should like to hear if Rarey's plan
of tying up the foreleg would influence them. Their character is so
wholly unlike that of a horse, that I doubt if it would.
In riding, it must be recollected that the temper of an ox is far less
quick, though his sensations may be as acute as those of a horse: thus,
he does not start forwards on receiving a cut with the whip, even though
he shrink with the pain; but he thinks about it, shakes his head, waits a
while, and then breaks gradually into a faster pace. An ox will trot well
enough with a light weight; and, though riding myself upwards of 13
stone, I once took an ox 60 miles in a day and a half: this is, perhaps
as much as an ox could, in fairness, be made to do. A ride-ox can be tied
up by his nose-bridle; but, if wild or frightened, he will assuredly
struggle till the nose-stick be torn out of his nose, and he becomes
free. It is, therefore, better to tie the bridle to a tuft of grass, or a
slender twig, rather than to a tree or to the saddle-bags. Mounting an ox
is usually a troublesome business, on account of his horns. To make
ride-oxen quiet and tame, scratch their backs and tails--they dearly love
it--and hold salt in your hands for them to lick. They soon learn their
names, and come to be caressed when called.
Cows.--Most breeds of cows, out of Europe, cease to give milk after their
calf dies; and the only way of making them continue their yield, is to
spread out the calf's hide for them to lick, some time before milking
them; it retains its effect for a week or more. Messrs. Huc and Gabet
give the following graphic account of this contrivance, as applied to
restive cows:--"These long-tailed cows are so restive and difficult to
milk, that, to keep them at all quiet, the herdsman has to give them a
calf to lick meanwhile. But for this device, not a single drop of milk
could be obtained from them. One day a Lama herdsman, who lived in the
same house with ourselves, came, with a long dismal face, to announce
that his cow had calved during the night, and that unfortunately the calf
was dying. It died in the course of the day. The Lama forthwith skinned
the poor beast, and stuffed it with hay. This proceeding surprised us at
first, for the Lama had by no means the air of a man likely to give
himself the luxury of a cabinet of natural history. When the operation
was completed, we observed that the hay-calf had neither feet nor head;
whereupon it occurred to us that, after all, it was perhaps a pillow that
the Lama contemplated. We were in error; but the error was not dissipated
till the next morning, when our herdsman went to milk his cow. Seeing him
issue forth--the pail in one hand, the hay-calf under the other arm--the
fancy occurred to us to follow him. His first proceeding was to put the
hay-calf down before the cow. He then turned to milk the cow herself. The
mamma at first opened enormous eyes at her beloved infant; by degrees she
stooped her head towards it, then smelt at it, sneezed three or four
times, and at last proceeded to lick it with the most delightful
tenderness. This spectacle grated against our sensibilities: it seemed to
us that he who first invented this parody upon one of the most touching
incidents in nature must have been a man without a heart. A somewhat
burlesque circumstance occurred one day, to modify the indignation with
which this treachery inspired us. By dint of caressing and licking her
little calf, the tender parent one fine morning unripped it: the hay
issued from within; and the cow, manifesting not the slightest surprise
nor agitation, proceeded tranquilly to devour the unexpected provender."
The Highlanders used this contrivance, and called it a "Tulchan": hence
King James's bishops were nicknamed "Tulchan bishops," to imply that they
were officials of straw, merely set up as a means of milking the Scotch
people of their money, in the form of church-dues.
Camels.--Camels are only fit for a few countries, and require practised
attendants; thorns and rocks lame them, hills sadly impede them, and a
wet slippery soil entirely stops them.
Elephants.--They are expensive and delicate, but excellent beasts of
burden, in rainy tropical countries. The traveller should make friends
with the one he regularly rides, by giving it a piece of sugar-cane or
banana before mounting. A sore back is a certain obstacle to a
continuance of travel; there is no remedy for it but rest. The average
burden, furniture included, but excluding the driver, is 500 lbs., and
the full average day's journey 15 miles.
Dogs.--Dogs will draw a "travail" (which see) of 60 lbs. for 15 miles a
day, over hard, level country, for days together; frequently they will
accomplish much more than that. For Arctic travel, they are used in
journeys after they are three years old; each dog requires eight or ten
herrings per day, or an equivalent to them. A sledge of 12 dogs carries
900 lbs.; it travels on smooth ice seven or eight miles an hour; and in
36 days, 22 sledges and 240 dogs travelled 800 miles--1210 versts.
(Admiral Wrangel.) Dogs are used by the Patagonian fishermen to drive
fish into their nets, and to prevent them from breaking through the nets
when they are inside them. (See next paragraph for "Sheep-dogs.")
Goats and Sheep.--Goats are much more troublesome to drive than sheep,
neither are they such enduring walkers, nor do they give as much meat;
but their skins are of such great use to furnish strong leather, that it
is seldom convenient to make up a caravan without them. She-goats give
some milk, even when travelling fast, and in dry countries; but a
ewe-sheep is not worth milking under those circumstances, as her yield is
a mere nothing. Goats are very mischievous--they make their way out of
all enclosures, and trespass everywhere. They butt at whatever is bright
or new, or strange to them; and would drive an observer, who employed
astronomical instruments on stands, to distraction. In an open country,
where there are no bushes for a kraal, nets must be taken, and stakes
cut, to make enclosures for the sheep. If they stray at all, the least
thing scares them, and they will wander very far, and scatter. Goats are
far more social and intelligent. If one, two, or three sheep only be
driven, long thongs must be tied to their legs, and allowed to trail
along the ground, by which they may be re-caught if they gallop off. When
the Messrs. Schlagintweit were encamped at vast heights, among the snows
of the Himalaya, they always found it practicable to drive sheep to their
stations. When sheep, etc., are long hurdled at night, near the same
encampment, the nuisance of flies and ticks becomes intolerable.
Sheep-dogs seem to prove of less use to travellers than might have been
expected; perhaps the other dogs corrupt them.
Management of Cattle generally.--To make an animal rise when he throws
himself on the ground with his pack, and will not get up, it is not of
much use to flog him; twisting or biting his tail is the usual way, or
making a blaze with grass and a few sticks under his nostrils. The
stubborness of a half-broken ox is sometimes beyond conception.
Cattle Bells, in countries where they can be used without danger, should
always be taken; it adds greatly to the cheerfulness and gregariousness
of the animals--mules positively require them. Hard wood is sonorous
enough for bells.
Brands and Cattle-marks.--In buying oxen out of the herds of pastoral
people, it is very difficult to remember each animal so as to recognise
it again if it strays back to its former home; it requires quite a
peculiar talent to do so. Therefore it is advisable that the traveller's
cattle should be marked or branded. A trader in Namaqua Land, took red
paint, and tied a brush on to a long stick; with this he made a daub on
the hind quarters of the freshly-bought and half-wild cattle, as they
pushed through the door of his kraal. It naturally excites great ridicule
among natives, to paint an ox that he may be known again; but, for all
that, I think the trader's plan well worth adopting. The same might be
done to sheep, as a slit ear is not half conspicuous enough. A good way
of marking a sheep's ear is to cut a wad out of the middle of it, with a
gun-punch; but it will sometimes tear this hole into a slit, by
scratching with its foot.
Chaff, to cut.--Tie a sickle against a tree, with its blade projecting;
then, standing in front of the blade, hold a handful of reeds across it
with both hands, one hand on either side of the blade; pull it towards
you, and the reeds will be cut through; drop the cut end, seize the
bundle afresh, and repeat the process. In this way, after a little
practice, chaff is cut with great ease and quickness. A broken sickle
does as well as a whole one, and a knife may be used, but the curve of
its edge is ill adapted for the work.
Cattle will eat many sorts of herbage, as reeds and gorse, if cut small;
but will not touch them, if uncut.
Occasional Food for Cattle.--They will also eat seaweed and leaves
especially birch and poplar leaves, and even thrive upon them.
[Illustration of man cutting chaff as described on p 64].
Pulling Cattle out of Holes.--The bight of a cord, or of some substitute
for one, may be thrown over a horse's head, and he can be dragged out by
a team of cattle with but very little danger to his neck. A crupper under
his tail, or a thong as a breeching may be used. In Canada and the United
States, a noose of rope is often run round the horse's neck, and hauled
tight--thus temporarily choking the animal and making him still; he is
then pulled as quickly as possible out of the hole, and no time is lost
in slackening the rope.