THERE is some prospect of ostrich farming developing into quite an
industry in the southwest, and it will sometime be a cold day when the
simple-minded rustic of that region will not have ostrich on toast if he
wants it. Ostrich farming, however, will always have its drawbacks.
The hen ostrich is not a good layer as a rule, only laying two eggs per
annum, which, being about the size of a porcelain wash bowl, make her
so proud that she takes the balance of the year for the purpose of
convalescing.
The ostrich is chiefly valuable for the plumage which he wears, and
which, when introduced into the world of commerce, makes the husband
almost wish that he were dead.
Probably the ostrich will not come into general use as an article of
food, few people caring for it, as the meat is coarse, and the gizzard
full of old hardware, and relics of wrecked trains and old irons left
where there has been a fire.
Carving the ostrich is not so difficult as carving the quail, because
the joints are larger and one can find them with less trouble. Still,
the bird takes up a great deal of room at the table, and the best
circles are not using them.
The ostrich does not set She don't have time. She does not squat down
over something and insist on hatching it out if it takes all summer, but
she just lays a couple of porcelain cuspidors in the hot sand when she
feels like it, and then goes away to the seaside to quiet her shattered
nerves.