_To the Editor of the Scientific American:_
In page 69 of your issue of 3d of February, 1883, I notice among the
"Challenger Notes" of Professor Mosely the statement that "Among
stockmen, and even some well educated people in Australia, there is a
conviction that the young kangaroo grows out as a sort of bud on the
teat of the mother within the pouch." Some eighteen months ago I
noticed a paragraph wherein some learned professor was reported to
have set at rest the contested point as to whether the kangaroo come
into being in the same manner as the calves of the cow and other
mammals, or whether the young grows, as alleged, upon the teat of its
dam within the pouch. The learned professor in question asserted that
it did not so grow upon the teat; but, with all due respect to the
professor's claim to credibility on other matters, I must in this
instance take the liberty of stating that he is in error. The young
kangaroo actually oozes out, if I may use such an expression, from the
teat. Strange as the statement may seem, it is a fact that the first
indication of life on the part of the kangaroo offspring is a very
slight eruption, in size not larger than an ordinary pin head. This
growth gradually resolves itself into the form of the marsupial, and
is not detached until close upon the expiring of of the fourth month.
It is carried by the mother during that period, and thenceforth exists
partially at least on herbage. Indeed, from the fourth till the
seventh month it is almost constantly in the pouch, only coming out
occasionally toward the close of evening to crop the grass. I had at
one time in my possession a specimen of the kangaroo germ which I cut
from off the teat, complete in form, whose entire weight was less than
an ounce; and, at the same time, I had a kangaroo in my possession
which measured seven feet six inches from the top of the ears to the
extremity of the tail.
Your readers would doubtless feel interested with a few particulars as
to my life among the kangaroos in a genuine kangaroo country. I have
read somewhere about the exceeding beauty of the eyes of the gazelle;
how noted hunters have alleged that their nature so softened on
looking into the animal's eyes that they (the hunters) had no heart to
destroy the creature. Now, I have never seen a gazelle, and so cannot
indulge in comparisons; but if their eyes are more beautiful than
those of a middle-aged kangaroo, they may indeed be all that huntsmen
say of them. With respect to the old kangaroos, their eyes and face
are simply atrocious in their repulsive ugliness.
Nothing in nature could surpass the affection which the female
kangaroo manifests for her young. There is something absolutely
touching in the anxious solicitude displayed by the dam while the
young ones are at play. On the least alarm the youngster instantly
ensconces himself in the pouch of his gentle mother, and should he, in
the exuberance of his joy, thrust his head out from his place of
refuge, it is instantly thrust back by his dam. I have, on several
occasions, by hard riding, pressed a doe to dire extremity, and it has
only been when hope had entirely forsaken her, or when her capture was
inevitable, that she has reluctantly thrown out the fawn. Their method
of warfare has often reminded me of the style of two practiced
pugilists, the aim of each being to firmly gripe his opponent by the
shoulder, upon accomplishing which, the long hind leg, with its horny
blade projecting from its toe, comes into formidable play. It is
lifted and drawn downward with a rapid movement, and one or other of
the combatants soon shows the entrails laid bare, which is usually the
_grand finale_. The sparring that takes place between the marsupials
while trying to get the advantageous gripe is marvelous--I had almost
said scientific; for the style and rapidity of the animals' movements
might excite the admiration of the Tipton Slasher.
Strangely enough, these animals have their social distinctions almost
as well defined as in the case of the human species. Thus, one herd
will not, on any consideration, associate with another; each tribe has
its rendezvous for morning and evening reunions, and each its leader
or king, who is the first to raise an alarm on the approach of danger,
and the first to lead the way, whether in ignominious retreat,
confronting a recognized foe, or standing at bay. These leaders are
generally extremely cunning, one old stager with whom I was intimately
acquainted having baffled all attempts to effect its capture for more
than ten months. I got him at last by a stratagem. He had a knack of
always keeping near a flock of sheep, and on the approach of the dogs
dodged among them.
By this means he had always succeeded in effecting his escape, and
more than that, this noble savage had actually drowned several of our
best dogs, for, if at any time a dog came upon him at a distance from
the sheep flocks, he would make for a neighboring swamp, on nearing
which he has been known to turn round upon the pursuing dog, seize
him, and carry him for some distance right into the swamp, and then
thrust the dog's head under water, holding him there till he was
drowned. It was amusing to see how some of our old knowing warrior
dogs gave him best when they noticed that he was approaching a flock
of sheep, well remembering, from former experience, that it was of no
use trying to get him on that occasion, and that when near the water
the attempt at his capture was both dangerous and impracticable.
If you take a new and inexperienced dog into your hunt after an old
man, he invariably gets his throat ripped up, or is otherwise
maltreated until well used to the sport. After a dog has had one
season's experience he becomes a warrior, and it is a wonderfully
clever kangaroo that can scratch him after he has attained that
position. The young recruit, if we may so speak of a dog who has never
had any practice, is over-impetuous, rushing into the treacherous
embraces of the close hugger somewhat unadvisedly, and is fortunate if
he escapes with his life as a penalty for his rashness. The dog of
experience always gripes his marsupial adversary by the butt end of
the tail, close to the rump, or at its juncture with the spinal
vertebræ. Once the dog has thrown his kangaroo, he makes for the
throat, which he gripes firmly, while at the same time he is careful
to keep his own body as far as he conveniently can from the quarry's
dangerous hind quarters. In this position dog and kangaroo work round
and round for some time until one or the other of the combatants is
exhausted. It is noteworthy that the kangaroo will only make use of
its sharp teeth in cases of the direst extremity. On such occasions,
however, it must be conceded that the bite is one of a most formidable
character--one not to be any means underrated or despised.
Should those few incidents prove of sufficient interest in your
estimation, I may state that I shall willingly, at some future time,
forward you particulars of the "ways peculiar" of the emirs,
bandicoots, wombats, opossums, and other remarkable animals, the
observance of which formed almost my sole amusement during a rather
lengthy sojourn in the bush of South Australia.