The boys now returned to their tent, impressed with curious feelings by
the scene they had just witnessed. They lay down upon the grass, and
entered into a conversation, of which bears and alligators formed the
subjects. The latter, however, with their singular and revolting
habits, came in for the greater share of their talk. Many odd stories
in relation to them were known to all, even to the little Francois; and
Basil being an old hunter among the swamps and bayous, was acquainted
with many of the habits of these animals. But Basil was not much of an
observer; and he had only noticed such peculiarities as, from time to
time, were forced upon his attention by the incidents of the chase.
Lucien, however, had more closely observed their habits, and had also
studied them from books. He was, therefore, well acquainted with all
that is known to the naturalist concerning these animals; and at the
request of his brothers he consented to while away the twilight hours,
by imparting to them such information about them as he himself
possessed.
"The alligator," began he, "belongs to the order _Sauria_, or lizards.
This order is again divided into several families, one of which is
termed _Crocodilida_, or crocodiles; and the family of crocodiles is
subdivided into three genera, each of which has several species."
"How many species in all?" demanded Basil.
"There are not more than a dozen varieties of the whole crocodile
family--at least, there are not more known to naturalists."
"Then I was thinking why there should be all this division and
subdivision into orders, families, genera, and species, for a dozen
varieties of the same animal, and these all so like each other in shape
and habits--are they not so?"
"They are," answered Lucien, "very similar in their characteristics."
"Then, why so much classing of them? It appears to me to be quite
useless."
"The object of this classing is to make the study of their natural
history more easy and simple. But you are right, brother, in the
present case; it appears quite useless, and only renders the thing more
complex, and obscure. Where there are many varieties or species of a
family or order of animals, and where these species differ widely from
each other in appearance and habits, then such minute classifications
become necessary to assist one's memory; but I say again, brother, you
are quite right as to the present case. There is no need for the
numerous divisions and subdivisions which have been made of the
crocodile family."
"Who made them, then?" asked Francois.
"Who!" exclaimed Lucien, with some warmth; "who but _closet_-
naturalists, old mummy-hunters of museums! Bah! it makes one angry."
As Lucien said this, his usually mild countenance exhibited an
expression of mingled indignation and contempt.
"What is there in it to make one angry?" inquired Basil, looking up at
his brother with some astonishment.
"Why, to think," answered Lucien, "that these same closet-naturalists
should have built themselves up great names by sitting in their easy
chairs measuring, and adding up, and classing into dry catalogues,
objects which they knew very little about; and that little they obtained
from the observations of others--true naturalists--men like the great
Wilson--men who toiled, and travelled, and exposed themselves to
countless dangers and fatigues for the purpose of collecting and
observing; and then for these men to have the fruits of their labours
filched from them, and descanted upon in dry arithmetical terms by these
same catalogue-makers.--Bah!"
"Stay, brother; Wilson was not robbed of the fruits of his labours! He
became famous."
"Yes, and he died from the struggles and hardships that made him so. It
reminds me of the fabled song of the swan, brother. He told his
beautiful tale, and died. Ah! Poor Wilson, he was a _true_
naturalist."
"His name will live for ever."
"Ay, that it will, when many of the _philosophic_ naturalists, now so
much talked of, shall be forgotten, or only remembered to have their
quaint theories laughed at, and their fabulous descriptions turned into
ridicule. Fortunately for Wilson, he was too poor and too humble to
attract their patronage until his book was published. Fortunately for
him he knew no great Linneus or Count Buffon, else the vast stores which
he had been at so much pains to collect would have been given to the
world under another name. Look at Bartram."
"Bartram!" exclaimed Francois; "why, I never heard the name, Luce."
"Nor I," added Basil.
"There it is, you see. Few know his name; and yet this same John
Bartram, a farmer of Pennsylvania, who lived an hundred years ago, did
more to spread, not only a knowledge of American plants, but the plants
themselves, than any one who has lived since. Most of the great gardens
of England--Kew among the rest--are indebted to this indefatigable
botanist for their American flora; and there were few of the naturalists
of that time--Linneus not excepted--that were not largely indebted to
him for their facts and their fame. They took his plants and
specimens--collected by arduous, toilsome, and perilous journeyings--
they put names to them--noble and kingly names--for king-sycophants most
of them were, these same naturalists--they _described_ them as _they_
call it--such descriptions, indeed! and then adopted them as their own
discoveries. And what did they give John Bartram in return for all his
trouble? Why, the English king gave him 50 pounds to enable him to
travel over thousands of miles of wilderness in search of rare plants,
many of which on reaching England were worth hundreds of pounds each!
This was all the poor botanist had for enriching the gardens of Kew, and
sending over the first magnolias and tulip-trees that ever blossomed in
England! What did the scientific naturalists do for him? They stole
his histories and descriptions, and published them under their own
names. Now, brothers, what think you of it? Is it not enough to spoil
one's temper when one reflects upon such injustice?"
Both Basil and Francois signified their assent.
"It is to such men as Hearne, and Bartram, and Wilson, that we are
indebted for all we know of natural history--at least, all that is worth
knowing. What to us is the dry knowledge of scientific classifications?
For my part, I believe that the authors of them have obscured rather
than simplified the knowledge of natural history. Take an example.
There is one before our eyes. You see those long streamers hanging down
from the live oaks?"
"Yes, yes," replied Francois; "the Spanish moss."
"Yes, Spanish moss, as we call it here, or _old-man's-beard_ moss, as
they name it in other parts. It is no moss, however, but a regular
flowering plant, although a strange one. Now, according to these
philosophic naturalists, that long, stringy, silvery creeper, that looks
very like an old man's beard, is of the same family of plants as the
pineapple!"
"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Francois; "Spanish moss the same as a pineapple
plant! Why, they are no more like than my hat is to the steeple of a
church."
"They are unlike," continued Lucien, "in every respect--in appearance,
in properties, and uses; and yet, were you to consult the dry books of
the closet-naturalists, you would learn that this Spanish moss
(_Tillandsia_) was of a certain family of plants, and a few particulars
of that sort, and that is all you would learn about it. Now what is the
value of such a knowledge? What is it to compare with a knowledge of
the appearance, the structure, and character of the plant--of its
properties and the ends for which nature designed it--of its uses to the
birds and beasts around--of its uses to man--how it makes his mattress
to sleep on, stuffs his sofas, and saddles, and chairs equal to the best
horse-hair, and would even feed his horse in case of a pinch? In my
opinion, these are the facts worth knowing; and who are the men who
publish such facts to the world? Not your closet-naturalists, I fancy."
"True, very true, brother; but let us not vex ourselves about such
things; go on, and tell us what you know of the crocodiles."
"Well, then," said Lucien, returning to his natural tone and manner, "as
I have already said, the crocodiles are divided into three
genera--_crocodiles_, _gavials_, and _alligators_. It is Baron Cuvier
who has made this distinction; and he rests it more upon the shape of
the head and the set of the teeth, than upon any real difference in the
appearance or habits of these animals. The crocodiles have long,
pointed, narrow snouts, and a large tooth in each side of the lower jaw,
which, when the mouth shuts, passes into a groove in the upper. `These
are the _true_ crocodiles,' says Monsieur Cuvier. The gavials have also
long, pointed, narrow, roundish snouts, but their teeth are nearly
equal-sized and even. The alligators, on the contrary, have broad
pike-shaped noses, with teeth very unequal, and one large one on each
side of the lower jaw, that, when the mouth shuts, passes--not into a
groove as with the crocodile--but, into a hole or socket in the upper
jaw. These are Monsieur Cuvier's distinctions; which he takes a world
of pains to point out and prove. He might, in my opinion, have spared
himself the trouble, as there are so few varieties of the animal in
existence, that they might have been treated of with greater simplicity
as so many species of the genus `crocodile.'
"Of the true crocodiles there are five species known. Four of these are
found in the rivers of Africa, while the fifth is an inhabitant of the
West Indies and South America. The gavial is found in Asia--
particularly in the Ganges and other Indian rivers, and is the crocodile
of those parts. The alligator belongs to America, where it is
distributed extensively both in North and South America. In the Spanish
parts it is called `caiman,' and there are two species well-known, viz
the spectacled caiman of Guiana, and the alligator of the Mississippi.
No doubt, when the great rivers of South America have been properly
explored, it will come to light, that there are other varieties than
these. I have heard of a species that inhabits the Lake Valencia in
Venezuela, and which differs from both the American species mentioned.
It is smaller than either, and is much sought after by the Indians for
its flesh, which these people eat, and of which they are particularly
fond. It is probable, too, that new species of crocodiles may yet be
found in Africa and the islands of the Indian Ocean.
"Now I think it is a well-ascertained fact, that all these varieties of
the crocodile family have pretty much the same habits,--differing only
where such difference might be expected by reason of climate, food, or
other circumstances. What I shall tell you of the alligator, then, will
apply in a general way to all his scaly cousins. You know his colour,--
dusky-brown above, and dirty yellowish-white underneath. You know that
he is covered all over with scales, and you see that on his back these
scales rise into protuberances like little pyramids, and that a row of
them along the upper edge of his tail give it a notched, saw-like
appearance. You notice that the tail is flattened vertically, and not
like the tail of the beaver, which is compressed horizontally. You
observe that the legs are short and very muscular--that there are five
toes on the fore-feet, slightly webbed or palmated, and four on the
hind-feet much longer and much more webbed. You notice that his head is
somewhat like that of a pike, that the nostrils are near the end of the
snout, the eyes prominent, and the opening of the ears just behind them.
His eyes have dark pupils, with a lemon-coloured iris; and the pupils
are not round, as in the eye of a man, but of an oval shape, something
like those of a goat.
"All these things you may observe by looking at an alligator. But there
are some things about the structure of the animal which are peculiar,
and which may not strike you so readily. You observe that his jaws open
far back--even beyond the ears--where they are hinged or articulated
into each other. Now this is a peculiar formation, and the effect is,
that when the alligator opens his mouth, his neck becomes somewhat bent
upwards, giving him the appearance of having moved the upper instead of
the under jaw."
"Why I have often heard that that was so," remarked Francois.
"Many have thought so, and said so, since the time of Herodotus, who
first propagated this absurd idea. It is not the fact, however. It is
the lower jaw that moves, as in other vertebrated animals; but the
appearance I have described leads to the mistake that has been made by
careless observers. There is another point worth speaking of. The
opening of the alligator's ear is guarded by a pair of lips, which he
closes the moment he goes under water. His nostrils, too, are protected
by valves, which he can also close at will. There is also a peculiarity
about his vertebrae. These are so jointed to each other, that he cannot
turn without describing a circle with his body. He can move his head
but slightly to one side or the other; and this is a fortunate
circumstance, if not for him, at least for his enemies. Were he able to
turn short round, or twist himself about, as serpents do, he would be a
most dangerous creature to encounter. As it is, the great length of his
body, combined with the shortness of his legs and the impossibility of
his getting round quickly, renders him an easy antagonist on land,
provided you keep out of reach of his great jaws, and beyond the sweep
of his powerful tail. This last is his true weapon of offence or
defence; and as _it_ is not restrained by any vertebrae, he can use it
with such effect as to knock the breath out of a man with one single
flap. Many of the habits of the alligator are known to you. How the
female lays eggs as big as those of a goose, and buries them in the
sand, where they are hatched by the heat of the sun. Sometimes she
cannot find a sandbank to suit her purpose. She then raises a circular
platform of mud mixed with grass and sticks. Upon this she deposits a
layer of eggs, and covers them over with several inches of mud and
grass. She then lays a fresh tier of eggs, covering these also with
mud, and so on until she has laid her whole hatching, which often
amounts to nearly two hundred eggs, of a dirty greenish-white colour.
In the end she covers all up with mud, plastering it with her tail until
it assumes the appearance of a mud oven or beaver-house. All these
pains she takes to protect her eggs from raccoons and turtles, as well
as vultures and other birds, that are very fond of them. She haunts
near the spot while the eggs are hatching, so as to keep off these
enemies. When the young are out, her first care is to get them to the
water out of the way of such dangers. This seems to be their first
instinct, too; for no sooner are they free from the shell than they are
seen scuttling off in that direction, or following their mother, many of
them having climbed upon her back and shoulders."
"But, brother," interrupted Francois, "is it true that the old males eat
their own young?"
"Horrible though it be, it is perfectly true, Francois. I myself have
seen it."
"And I," said Basil, "several times."
"The first care of the mother is to get them to the water, where she can
better conceal them from their unnatural parent; but, notwithstanding
all her precautions, many of them fall victims, both to the old
alligators, and the larger tortoises, and birds. As soon as the young
ones have learned a little sense, if I may so speak, they elude their
monster fathers and uncles, as they are nimbler in their movements, and
can keep out of reach of their great jaws and tails. I have often seen
the small alligators riding upon the backs of the larger ones, knowing
that the latter could not reach them in that situation."
"They appear to eat anything that comes in their way," remarked
Francois.
"They are not very particular as to that. Fish is their favourite food,
I believe, but they will eat any land animal they can kill; and it is
believed they prefer it in a state of putrefaction. That is a doubtful
point. They have been known to kill large animals in the water, and
leave them at the bottom for several days; but this may have happened
because they were not hungry at the time, and were merely keeping them
until they should get an appetite. The process of digestion with them,
as with all reptiles, is very slow; hence they do not require such
quantities of food as the warm-blooded animals--mammals and birds. For
instance, they bury themselves in the mud, and lie asleep during the
whole winter without any food."
"You say fish is their favourite food, Luce," said Basil; "now I think
they are fonder of dogs than anything else. I have often known them to
come where they had heard the yelping of a dog as if for the purpose of
devouring it. I have seen one seize a large dog that was swimming
across the Bayou Boeuf, and drag him under, as quick as a trout would
have taken a fly. The dog was never seen again."
"It is very true," replied Lucien, "that they will eat dogs, as they
will any other animals; but their being particularly fond of them is a
point about which naturalists differ. It is true they will approach the
spot where they hear the yelping of a dog; but some say that this is
because it so much resembles the whining of their own young, and that it
is these they are in search of."
"But I have seen both the males and females make towards the dog."
"Just so. The males went to devour the young, as they thought, and the
females followed to protect them. Great battles are often fought
between the males and females on this account."
"But how is it, Luce," inquired Francois, "how is it they can catch fish
that appear so much swifter than themselves?"
"Very few kinds of fish are swifter. The alligator, by means of his
webbed feet, and particularly his flat tail--which acts on the principle
of a stern-oar to a boat, and a rudder as well--can pass through the
water as swiftly as most of the finny tribe. It is not by hunting it
down, however, but by stratagem, that the alligator secures a fish for
his maw."
"By what stratagem?"
"You have often noticed them floating on the surface of the water, bent
into a sort of semicircular shape, and without moving either body or
limb?"
"Yes--yes; I have noticed it many a time."
"Well, if you could have looked under the water then, you would have
seen a fish somewhere upon the convex side of the semicircle. The fish
would be at rest--no doubt, watching the surface for his own prey: such
flies or beetles as might come along. Thus occupied, he does not heed
the great dusky mass that is gliding slowly towards him, and which
presents no threatening appearance--for the head of the alligator is at
this time turned away from his intended victim. Although apparently
asleep, the alligator knows what he is about well enough. He floats
silently on, until he has got the fish within sweep of his great tail,
that is all the while bent like a bow; and then, taking sure aim, he
strikes the unconscious prey a `slap' that kills it at once--sometimes
throwing it directly into his jaws, and sometimes flinging it several
feet out of the water!
"When on land the alligator strikes his prey in a similar manner. As he
gives the blow, his head turns so as to meet the tail half-way--the
whole body thus forming a semicircle. Should the prey not be killed by
the blow of the tail, it is flung right into the jaws of the monster,
where it is sure to be despatched in a trice."
"But, brother," inquired Basil, "why do the alligators eat stones and
such substances? I have seen one that was opened, and his stomach was
nearly quarter full of stones as big as my fist, and pieces of sticks
and glass. They looked as if they had been there a long time, for the
sharp edges were worn off. This I never could understand."
"No wonder, for wiser naturalists than we do not know the reason of
this. Some think it is upon the same principle, and for the same
reason, that birds and other creatures swallow gravel and earth--to
assist the process of digestion. Others have affirmed that it is for
the purpose of distending the stomach, so as to enable the reptile to
bear his long fast while torpid during the winter. This latter reason I
look upon as very absurd, and worthy only of the fabulous Buffon. For
my part, I believe that the rubbish usually found in the alligator's
stomach is collected there by accident--swallowed, from time to time, by
mistake, or along with his prey; for his organs of taste are far from
being delicate, and he will devour anything that is flung into the
water, even a glass bottle. These substances, of course, remain in his
stomach--perhaps accumulating there during his whole lifetime--and as,
like most reptiles, his stomach being very strong, they do him little,
if any, injury. We must not judge of an alligator's stomach as we would
that of a human being; nor, indeed, of any of his organs. If our brain
is seriously injured, we die; but an alligator's brain may be altogether
removed, even in the most violent manner, and the animal will crawl off
and live for days after. Instances have been known of alligators having
had their brains blown out by a shot, and yet for hours after they would
give battle to any one who might approach them. Their brain, like that
of all reptiles, is exceedingly small--proving them lower in the scale
of intelligence than birds and mammals."
"But, Lucien, you tell us that the habits of the crocodile family are
alike, or nearly so: how comes it that the African crocodiles are so
much more fierce, as we have heard, often attacking and devouring the
natives of Senegal and the Upper Nile? Our alligators are not so. It
is true they sometimes bite the legs of our negroes; and we have heard
also of some boys who have been killed by them; but this was when
through negligence they came in the animals' way. They do not attack
one if they are left alone. We, for instance, are not a bit afraid to
approach them with only a stick in our hands."
"That is, because we feel certain they are too clumsy on land to get at
us, as we can easily leap out of the reach of their tails and jaws. How
would you like to swim across that bayou at this moment? I dare say you
would not venture it."
"Not a bit of it--you are right there."
"And if you did, you would, in all probability, be attacked before you
could reach the opposite shore. But our alligators are not now what
they were an hundred years ago. We know, from the best authority, that
they were then much more fierce and dangerous, and often attacked men
without provocation. They have grown afraid of _us_, because they know
that we are dangerous to them; and they can easily distinguish our
upright form and shape from those of other animals. Look how they have
been hunted by men during the mania for alligator-leather, and see how
many of them are still killed for their oil and tails. It is quite
natural, then, they should fear us; and you may notice they are much
more timid near the plantations and settlements than in the wilder
parts. I have no doubt--and I have so heard it--that there are places
in the great swamps where they are still dangerous to approach. Those
who assert that the African crocodiles are more fierce, do not draw
their conclusions from facts. The caimans of South America--and these
are alligators--are quite as fierce as the crocodiles. I have read many
accounts of their attacking the natives of Guiana and Brazil, and
devouring them, too. Much of this is fabulous, no doubt; but there are
some stories of the kind well authenticated, and I have heard one which
I am certain is true. I shall relate it, if you desire, though it is a
very horrible and very melancholy tale, and I could well wish it had not
been true."
"Oh! tell it--tell it us," cried Francois. "We can bear the narrative;
neither Basil nor I have weak nerves. Have we, Basil?"
"No," replied Basil. "I guess we can stand it, Frank. Go on, Luce."
"Very well, then," said Lucien, "I shall give it, as it is not long, and
is therefore not likely to weary you."