"THE LAUGHING JACKASS"--AUSTRALIAN SNAKES AND SNAKE STORIES.
Our friends returned to their hotel, but, before leaving them, their
host arranged to call for them after breakfast the next morning, for a
drive among the parks and around the suburbs of the city.
The drive came off as agreed upon, and a very pleasant one it was. They
visited the Botanic Garden, which is on the banks of the Yarra, and
seemed to contain specimens of nearly all the trees on the habitable
globe. Harry said he wondered how elms and oaks could have attained the
size of some that he saw, when he remembered that the city had its
beginning in 1835. It was explained that all exotic trees grew with
great rapidity in the climate of Melbourne, and not only exotics but
natives. The climate seems adapted to almost any kind of vegetable
production.
Our friends found cork trees and palms growing almost side by side with
the birch, the pine, and the spruce. Among other things, their attention
was attracted to some beautiful fern trees, which were fully twenty feet
high, and there were climbing plants in great profusion, some of them
clinging to the trees, and others fastened to trellis work.
[Illustration: TO THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN.]
Almost every kind of tropical fruit tree was represented in the garden,
and the gentleman who led the party said that the garden had been of
great use in distributing exotic fruit trees through the colony, after
first settling the question whether they would exist in the climate of
Victoria. Every variety of orange was there, and the orange is among the
most abundant of the fruits growing in the colony. Apricots, peaches,
pears, mangosteens, the custard apple, mangoes, and other fruits have
found a home in Victoria, and demonstrated that they can exist within
its limits.
"We were unwilling," said Harry in his journal, "to leave the Botanic
Garden and go elsewhere, as there were so many attractive things to be
seen, but time pressed, and whenever our host gave the word we proceeded
with him. From the Botanic Garden we went to the Fitzroy Gardens, which
are situated in the eastern part of the town, and were to some extent a
repetition of the Botanic Garden, though not entirely so. The Fitzroy is
more like a park than a garden; it is beautifully laid out with walks
and drives, and is rendered picturesque by means of rocky hills,
miniature lakes, and occasional fountains.
"We afterwards went to the Carlton Gardens and also to the Zoological
Garden, the latter being situated in the Royal Park. The 'Zoo,' as it is
popularly called, contains a fine collection of animals from all parts
of the world, including elephants, lions, tigers, and the like, and also
specimens of the animals of Australia. Of course it has a cage full of
monkeys,--what Zoo is ever without them?--and they look just exactly
like the collections of monkeys that we have elsewhere in various parts
of the world.
"There is a very fair collection of birds, and we were particularly
interested in the specimens of the birds of Australia. And that reminds
me of an amusing experience, as we came around to where the aviary
stands.
"We heard somebody laughing very loudly, and a queer sort of a laugh it
was. Ned remarked that somebody must be feeling very happy, and I agreed
with him. Our host smiled, and so did Dr. Whitney, but nothing further
was said, as the laugh died away.
"When we got close to the door we again heard the laugh, which came from
the inside of the bird house.
"'The fellow is at it again,' said Ned. 'Wonder if we can't share in the
fun?'
"I said that I hoped so, as I had not seen anything to laugh at since we
started out from the hotel. When we got inside we looked around for the
man who had been making the noise, but there was nobody visible except a
very solemn-faced keeper, who did not look as if he had laughed for a
month.
"I remarked to Ned that the old fellow had put on a serious face now
because company had come in, to which Ned nodded assent. Just as he did
so the laughing began again, and it was such a funny laugh that both of
us joined in it.
"The old fellow's face did not move a muscle, and we saw that he was not
the humorous one of the place. We looked in the direction of the
laughter and saw that it came, not from a man, but from a bird. In spite
of our astonishment we burst out laughing, and the doctor and our host
joined us in doing so.
"Our host then explained that the bird which was amusing us was known as
the 'laughing jackass.' We had heard of the creature before, but this
was our first view of him. We took a good look, and while we were doing
so he laughed again, right in our faces. The laugh is almost exactly
like that of a human being. It is not musical but is very comical, and,
somehow, it has a tendency to set everybody laughing who is within sound
of it.
"The bird is about the size of a full-grown pigeon, perhaps a little
larger. He is not handsomely proportioned, his head being too large for
his body and his tail very small. His feathers are white and black, and
he has a comical appearance that harmonizes well with his humorous
manner. He is easily domesticated, and will learn to talk quite as
readily as the parrot does.
"The laughing jackass is a friend of the bushman, as he foretells wet
weather. When the air is dry and clear, he is a very lively bird, and
fills the air with the sound of his laughter; but if rain is coming, or
especially if it has come, he is the very picture of misery and
unhappiness. He mopes on his perch, whether it be in a cage, or on the
limb of a tree, or in the open air, with his feathers ruffled, and a
very bedraggled appearance, like a hen that has been caught in a shower.
In the forest he will imitate the sound of an axe cutting at a tree, and
many a man has been deceived into walking a mile or more in the
expectation of finding somebody at work.
"The bird belongs to the kingfisher family, but does not hunt much for
fishes, his favorite food being snakes. It makes no difference to him
whether the snakes are poisonous or not, as his attacks upon them are
limited only by their size. Large snakes he cannot handle, but small
ones are his delight. He drops down upon them with the quickness of a
flash, seizes them just back of the head, and then flies up in the air a
hundred feet to drop them upon the hardest piece of ground he can find.
"The fall breaks their backs, and he keeps up this performance until
life is extinct, when he devours his prey. His services as a
snake-killer are known all over the country, and consequently he is
never shot or trapped. He is intelligent enough to understand his
immunity from attack, and comes fearlessly about the houses of the
people in the country districts.
"Speaking of snakes reminds me that they have a very good collection in
the Zoo. We asked the keeper to indicate to us the snakes peculiar to
Australia, and he did so. The largest of them is known as the carpet
snake, and the specimen that we saw was about ten feet long. It belongs
to the constrictor family, being perfectly harmless so far as its bite
is concerned, but it has powers of constriction that might be very
serious to the person around whom the creature has wound itself. One
traveler in Australia tells how he was visiting a cattle station in
Queensland, and when he went to bed the first night of his stay, he
found a carpet snake lying on the outside of his couch. He called loudly
for some one to come and kill the serpent.
"His call was heard by the proprietor, who shouted to him not to kill
the snake, as it was one of the family pets, and then the man came and
seized the creature by the neck and carried it to a barrel where he said
the snake belonged. I hope they won't have any pets of that sort around
any house that I visit during my stay in Australia.
"There are eighty-three distinct species of snakes peculiar to
Australia, of which sixty are venomous, and fifteen amphibious. The most
common of the deadly serpents are the death adder, black snake, brown
snake, tiger snake, and diamond snake. The latter is so called on
account of the color of his skin, which is laid out in lozenges of a
diamond shape, alternately brown and white. The death adder, so the
keeper told us, is the most dangerous of all the Australian snakes, as
it never tries to escape. It lies perfectly still when approached, but
the instant one touches it, it darts its head and delivers, if possible,
a fatal bite. The poison speedily accomplishes its purpose, and unless
an antidote can be had in a few minutes death is the inevitable result.
"People who go about much in the region where this snake abounds wear
high-top boots as a protection against these serpents. The black snake
and the brown snake are the most common of the deadly serpents. The
brown one is the largest of them, and frequently attains a length of
eight or nine feet. The tiger snake seems to be related to the
'_Cobra-di-Capello_,' of India, as it has the same power of flattening
and extending its neck when irritated.
"I asked what were the antidotes used for snake bites in Australia?
"To this our host replied that there were various ways of counteracting
the effects of a snake bite. One was to cut out the wound and take away
the flesh from each side of it for half an inch or so. Another was to
swallow large quantities of brandy and whiskey, and the third and most
common way was to use a hypodermic injection of ammonia. The last-named
antidote is regarded as almost certain, and a great many people, such as
stockmen, wood-cutters, farmers, and the like, carry in their pockets a
hypodermic syringe, charged and ready for use.
"'On that subject I can tell you an interesting story,' said our host.
'There was at one time a man named Underwood, who discovered a positive
antidote for the bite of the most venomous serpent. He gave several
exhibitions in which he permitted himself to be bitten by snakes in full
possession of all their venomous powers, a fact which was established by
the immediate deaths of dogs, chickens, and other small animals, which
were bitten by the snakes after they had tried their fangs on Underwood.
He carried a supply of his antidote about him, and used it whenever he
was thus bitten.'
"'Underwood's remedy was a secret known only to himself. He was trying
to sell it to the government, the latter intending to make it public for
the sake of saving life. One day Underwood gave an exhibition in which
he allowed himself, as usual, to be bitten by a venomous snake. He was
intoxicated at the time, and in consequence of his intoxication was
unable to find his antidote; the result was that he died within an hour,
and carried away the secret of his antidote forever.'
"Newly arrived emigrants in Australia have a great fear of snakes. For
the first few weeks they are startled whenever they hear the least
rustling in the bushes, but after a time they get accustomed to it, and
think no more about snakes than they do about dragons. It makes a great
difference in what part of Australia you are. There are some regions
where the snake is rarely seen, while in others great precautions are
necessary. Low, swampy districts are said to be the worst, and men who
walk around in such localities are very careful of their steps.
"Some of the snakes of Australia have an unpleasant habit of coming
around the houses, and this is particularly the case with the tiger
snake, which in this respect seems to possess the same characteristics
as his relative the 'cobra,' of India. Our host told us a story which he
said he knew to be a true one, the incident having occurred in a family
with which he was acquainted. There was an invalid daughter in the
family, and one afternoon, when she was sleeping in a hammock on the
veranda, she suddenly waked with the feeling of something cold, and
moist, and heavy near her neck. She raised her hand and happened to
grasp the neck of a snake just back of the head. In her paroxysm of
terror, she clutched it with terrific force to tear it away.
"She gave a piercing cry that summoned her father and other members of
the family, and immediately after the cry she fainted. But she still
continued to clutch at the snake's neck, and although she was utterly
unconscious of anything surrounding her, she grasped it with such force
that the reptile was fairly strangled by her fingers. Her father
realized that it would be impossible to free her hand until
consciousness returned, and the indications were that it would not be
speedy in coming. So they released her fingers one by one, with a piece
of the hammock cord, and removed the dead body of the snake so that it
should be out of sight when she revived. Luckily, the creature had not
bitten her before she grasped it.
"It is not at all unusual for a man sleeping on the ground at night to
find, on waking, that a serpent has crawled in by his side, or curled
itself up on his breast for the sake of the warmth that his body
supplies. I have heard a story of a man who thus entertained an
unwelcome visitor. He waked during the night while lying flat on his
back, and felt something heavy and cold on his chest. He moved a little
as he waked, and his movement caused the snake that was lying on him to
raise its head. By the light of the camp fire the man saw his
predicament. His hair stood on end, and he could feel the blood
stiffening in his veins. He knew it would be some time before daylight,
and felt that he would lose his mind before morning, or perhaps die of
fear. He carried a knife in his belt, and decided, after careful
consideration, that his best plan was to reach for the weapon and kill
the snake where it lay.
"Slowly, very slowly, he worked his hand to his waist and drew his
knife. He could not avoid making some movement in doing so, and at each
movement the snake raised its head to ascertain the cause of the
disturbance; then the man became perfectly still until the reptile
subsided again.
"After the lapse of what seemed to be many hours, the man got his knife
and arm in readiness for action. Then he moved his body a little,
causing the serpent to lift its head once more. As it did so, the man
made a quick movement of his hand, and he declares that he never made a
quicker one in all his life. The snake's head was severed by the blow;
it fell to one side and the writhing body of the creature followed it.
At the same instant the man was on his feet, and he says that he danced
for a few minutes in a wild paroxysm of joy, and then fell to the ground
in a fainting fit, caused by the sudden reaction in his feelings. The
snake that he killed was of a poisonous kind,--the tiger snake, which
has already been mentioned. When stretched out to its full length, it
measured very nearly five feet.
"They have scorpions and centipedes in Australia, and their bite is just
as deadly as that of the same creatures elsewhere. They have a black
spider about as large as a pea,--black all over except a red spot on its
back,--which is found in decaying logs, and, unhappily, has a fondness
for living in houses. It is aggressive in its nature, as it does not
wait to be disturbed before making an attack, and it has been known to
cross a room towards where a person was sitting in order to bite him.
Its bite is as bad as that of the scorpion or centipede. Sometimes its
victims are permanently paralyzed for the rest of their lives, or become
hopeless lunatics, and, not infrequently, death results from this
spider's bite.
"One gentleman told me how he was once bitten by one of these spiders on
the calf of the leg. He immediately cut out the wound and injected some
ammonia close by the side of it, but in spite of these precautions he
suffered intense pains in the leg for several days. The limb swelled to
twice its natural size, and became as soft as putty. At the spot where
the wound was a suppurating sore formed and it discharged for several
months. He fully expected that amputation would be necessary, and the
doctor whom he called to attend him said the chances were five to one
that he would lose the leg altogether. Greatly to his and the doctor's
surprise and delight, he managed to save it, but for fully a year after
the wound had healed the limb did not resume its normal size, and he
suffered frequent pains like rheumatism.
"'You will naturally conclude,' said our friend, 'that as we have
spiders here we ought to have flies, and we have them in sufficient
abundance to prevent life from becoming monotonous. They are worse in
the interior than on the coast; in the latter region they are only
troublesome during the autumn months, while for the rest of the year
they are not at all numerous, or may be absent altogether; but in the
interior they are always bad, the only difference being that they are
worse at some times than at others. In parts of the interior everybody
wears a veil when going about the country, and it is often necessary to
do so while in the house. On some of the interior plains you can see a
man before you see him, as an Irishman might put it. You see in the
distance a small black cloud hovering just over the road. It is a cloud
of flies around the head of some unfortunate traveler, who is
approaching on horseback. They stick to him like a troubled conscience
and go with him wherever he goes. If another traveler happens to be
going in the opposite direction, the clouds about their heads mingle as
the individuals meet, and when they separate the flies move on with
them, as before.'
"Flies in the houses are very troublesome, as they are fond of loitering
about the table, just like flies in America and other countries. They
are a nuisance to which nobody ever gets accustomed, and in some
localities they almost render the country uninhabitable. Mosquitoes
abound in most parts of the country, especially along the rivers and
lakes and in swampy regions, and every traveler who expects to be out at
night carries a mosquito net with him."
From the Zoo our friends continued their drive through other parks and
along some of the principal streets, passing several public buildings,
all of which were spacious and attractive. The town hall, post-office,
government house, and other public structures of Melbourne would do
honor to any city and evince the taste and good judgment of those who
planned and erected them. The numerous parks and gardens are a great
ornament to the city and give an abundance of breathing space for the
people. Our young friends were loud in their praise of what they saw,
and their comments were well received by their host. The people of
Melbourne are fond of hearing their city commended, and their pride in
it is certainly well justified.