OSTRICH FARMING AT CAPE COLONY.
In the early settlement of Cape Colony, ostriches were found in great
numbers. No later than fifty years ago flocks could be seen in almost
any section of it. The salty nature of the soil, the sweet grass, and
the dry atmosphere of the karroo plains are very favorable to the health
of these birds.
As the hunters became more and more eager to secure the feathers, which
were the real plunder of the chase, they wantonly hunted and killed
great numbers of ostriches. In consequence the birds became very scarce,
and the hunters had to seek their sport farther and farther to the
north.
The settlers soon turned their attention to the rearing of ostriches as
they would turkeys or hens, and ostrich farms became a common feature of
Cape Colony. Ostrich farming is not only an interesting industry for the
Boers, but it is a most lucrative business. The feathers, too, from
these farms surpass in quality and value those brought from the wilds of
the interior.
As a pound of ostrich plumes is worth about three hundred dollars, the
owner of an ostrich farm finds it a profitable business to own as many
full-grown birds as possible; for each will yield a quarter of a pound
of feathers yearly. A tiny chick a week old is valued at the sum of
fifty dollars, while a full-grown bird will command as high a price as
two hundred and fifty.
The ugly scenery of Cape Colony, its eccentric plants, queer beasts,
and general look of incompleteness, according to one writer, have called
forth the remark from some jocular American that "South Africa was
finished off in a hurry late on Saturday night, with a few diamonds
thrown in to compensate."
The owner of an ostrich farm, however, finds much in compensation. The
author of "Home Life on an Ostrich Farm" thus describes a farm of some
twelve hundred acres: "We are in that part of the Karroo which is called
the Zwart Ruggens, or 'black rugged country,' so named from the
appearance it presents when, during the frequent long droughts, the bush
loses all its verdure, and becomes outwardly so black and dry-looking
that no one unacquainted with this most curious kind of vegetation would
suppose it capable of containing the smallest amount of nutriment for
ostriches, sheep, or goats.
"But if you break one of these apparently dried-up sticks, you find it
all green and succulent inside, full of a very nourishing saline juice;
and thus, even in long droughts, which sometimes last more than a year,
this country is able to support stock in a most marvelous manner, of
which, judging by outward appearance, it certainly does not seem
capable. It seems strange that in this land of dryness the plants are so
full of moisture; one wonders whence it can possibly have come.
"The little _karroo_ plant, from which the district takes its name, is
one of the best kinds of bush for ostriches, as well as for sheep and
goats. It grows in little compact round tufts not more than seven or
eight inches from the ground, and though so valuable to farmers it is
but unpretending in appearance, with tiny narrow leaves, and a little,
round, bright yellow flower, exactly resembling the center of an English
daisy after its last petal has been pulled.
"The _fei-bosch_ is another of our commonest and useful plants. Its
pinkish lilac flower is very like that of the portulacca, and its little
flat succulent leaves look like miniature prickly pear leaves without
the prickles; hence its name, from _Turk-fei_, Turkish fig. When
flowering in large masses, and seen at a little distance, the fei-bosch
might almost be taken for heather.
"The _brack-bosch_, which completes our trio of very best kinds of
ostrich bush, is a taller and more graceful plant than either of the
preceding, with bluish green leaves, and blossoms consisting of a spike
of little greenish tufts; but there are an endless variety of other
plants, among which there is hardly one that is not good nourishing food
for the birds.
"All are alike succulent and full of salt, giving out a crisp, crackling
sound as you walk over them. All have the same strange way of growing,
each plant a little patch by itself, just as the tufts of wool grow on
the Hottentots' heads; and the flowers of nearly all are of the
portulacca type, some large, some small, some growing singly, others in
clusters. They are of different colors,--white, yellow, orange, red,
pink, lilac, etc. They are very delicate and fragile flowers; and,
pretty as they are, it is useless to attempt carrying them home, for
they close up and fade as soon as they are gathered.
"The _spekboom_, which is a good-sized shrub, sometimes attaining the
height of fifteen or twenty feet, grows plentifully a little way up the
mountains; and in very protracted droughts, when the karroo and other
bush of the plains begin at last to fail, it is our great resource for
the ostriches, which then ascend for the purpose of feeding upon it; and
though they do not care for it as they do for their usual kinds of food,
it is good and nourishing for them. It has a large, soft stem, very
thick, round, succulent leaves, and its clusters of star-shaped, waxlike
flowers are white, sometimes slightly tinged with pink.
"Thorny plants abound, especially on the mountains, where indeed almost
every bush which is not soft and succulent is armed with strong, sharp,
often cruelly hooked spikes. On foot you are perpetually assailed by the
great strong hooks of the wild asparagus, a troublesome enemy, whose
long straggling branches trailing over the ground are most destructive
to the skirts of dresses; while boots have deadly foes, not only in the
shape of rough ground and hard, sharp-pointed stones, but also in that
of numerous prickly and scratchy kinds of small bush.
"Among our troublesome plants, one of the worst and most plentiful is
the prickly pear. It spreads with astonishing rapidity, and is so
tenacious of life that a leaf, or even a small portion of a leaf, if
thrown on the ground, strikes out roots almost immediately, and becomes
the parent of a fast-growing plant.
"Sometimes ostriches help themselves to prickly pears, acquire a morbid
taste for them, and go on indulging in them, reckless of the long stiff
spikes on the leaves, with which their poor heads and necks soon become
so covered as to look like pincushions stuck full of pins, and of the
still more cruel, almost invisible fruit thorns which at last line the
interior of their throats, besides so injuring their eyes that they
become perfectly blind, and are unable to feed themselves."
Speaking of the prickly pear still further, the author acknowledges that
it is not without its good qualities: "Its juicy fruit, though rather
deficient in flavor, is delightfully cool and refreshing in the dry heat
of summer, and a kind of treacle, by no means to be despised, is made
from it.
"Great caution is needed in peeling the prickly pear, the proper way
being to impale the fruit on a fork or stick while you cut it open and
remove the skin. On no account must the latter be touched with the
hands, or direful consequences will ensue.
"To the inexperienced eye the prickly pear looks innocent enough, with
its smooth, shiny skin, suggestive only of a juicy interior, and telling
no tales of lurking mischief; yet each of these soft-looking tufts, with
which at regular intervals it is dotted, is a quiver filled with
terrible, tiny, hairlike thorns, or rather stings, and woe betide the
fingers of the unwary, who with no kind friend at hand to warn him,
plucks the treacherous fruit.
"In dry weather at the Cape these spiteful little stings do not even
wait for the newly arrived victim; but fly about, light as thistle down,
ready to settle on any one who has not learned by experience to give the
prickly-pear bushes a wide berth.
"The leaves of the prickly pear are good for ostriches and cattle,
though the work of burning off the thorns and cutting the leaves in
pieces is so tedious that it is only resorted to when other food becomes
scarce. One kind, the 'bald-leaf,' has no thorns. It is comparatively
rare, and farmers plant and cultivate it as carefully as they
exterminate its troublesome relative."
Another queer plant this author describes as candle-bush, a stunted,
thorny plant, which, if lighted at one end, will burn steadily just like
a wax candle, and can be used as a torch for burning off the thorns of
the prickly pear.
Speaking of the dry season, this writer says: "The long droughts are
certainly very trying; indeed, they could not possibly be endured by any
country less wonderfully fertile than South Africa, where it is
calculated that three good days' rain in the year, could we but have
this regularly, would be sufficient to meet all the needs of the land.
But often for more than a year there will be no rain worth mentioning.
"The dams, or large artificial reservoirs, of which each farm usually
possesses several, gradually become dry, and the land daily loses more
of its verdure, till at last all is one dull, ugly brown, and the whole
plain lies parched and burnt up under a sky from which every atom of
moisture seems to have departed.
"The stock, with pathetic tameness of thirst, come from all parts of the
farm to congregate close round the house, the inquiring ostriches
tapping with their bills on the windows, as they look in at you, and the
cattle lowing in piteous appeal for water. Then the hot winds sweep
across the country, making everybody tired, languid, headachy, and
cross. Even our pets were sulky on a hot, windy day; and as for the
ostriches, they were deplorable-looking objects indeed, as they stood
gasping for breath, with pendant wings, open bills, and inflated
throats, the pictures of imbecile misery."
When the weary drought is over, and the long-wished-for rain begins to
fall, every one's heart is gladdened by the sound of abundance of rain,
and the voice of many waters.
"It means everything to the farmer: the long drought over at last, the
dams full, the parched country revived, the poor thin cattle no longer
in danger of starvation, healthier ostriches, a better quality of
feathers, a near prospect of nests, and, in fact, the removal of a load
of cares and anxieties.
"How early we are all astir on the morning after a big rain! and with
what eager excitement we look out, in the first gleam of daylight, for
that most welcome sight, the newly filled dam! Everywhere the water is
standing in immense pools and ponds. A troop of ostriches come down to
drink. They are no doubt delighted to find such an abundant supply of
water, after the somewhat scanty allowance which has been portioned out
to them of late; and they stand greedily scooping up large quantities
with their broad bills, then assuming comical attitudes as they stretch
out their distended necks to allow the fluid to run down. In the
distance, about a dozen other ostriches are spreading their white wings
and waltzing along magnificently--a pretty way of expressing their
satisfaction at this new and delightful change in circumstances."