in occasional instances when the sun shines with peculiar warmth, and
is not seen again until the beginning of spring. The young, to the
number of four or five, are produced in May, and there is generally a
second brood some time in August. A rather pugnacious animal is the
male Hackee, and during the combats which are frequently waged when
several males meet, their tails have been known to snap asunder from
the violence of their movements, for these members, it is undoubtedly
true, are wonderfully brittle in their structure.
Pretty as he is, and graceful as are his movements, it hardly pays
to keep the animal in a domesticated state, for his temper is very
uncertain, and he is generally sullen even towards his keeper. But
could he be induced to take to the life of a captive kindly and
pleasantly, he would, by his cunning little ways, prove a most
agreeable companion.
Some years ago an American writer of note had a pair of these animals
which made their home in the foundation wall of her house. A row of
wild cherry trees stood near the lawn in the rear of the building,
which the little fellows were wont to visit many times daily, carrying
off in their pouches quite a number at a time of the numerous cherry
pits that lay scattered over the ground.
The season being dry, one morning early the person to whom reference
has been made repaired to the lawn and poured a pitcher of water over
some plants that grew near her porch, when one of these squirrels was
observed to pass among them on his way to the trees. He paused from
his journey, sat up on his haunches, took one of the wet leaves in his
hands, pressed the sides together for a trough for the moisture, and
holding it to his mouth drank from it the water in the most comical
fashion imaginable. He then went to another and another, drinking
from five or six leaves in all, while she stood watching near by. A
large saucer filled with water was placed near the plants, which the
little fellows quickly discovered, and both thereafter drank and washed
regularly at the dish.
A practice of testing their knowledge of nuts was then made. When
cracked hickory nuts were given them, they at once sat down and picked
out of them the meats, which they eagerly devoured. Cracked nuts, it
would seem, were deemed worthless for storage. But, on the contrary,
when whole nuts were given, they tested them, evidently by weight, to
see if they were sound. Sound nuts were promptly transported to their
burrow, but the poor ones were dropped. They were never known to be
mistaken in their judgment, for the rejected nuts on being cracked were
always found to be worthless.
Although the food of the Hackee is mostly vegetal in character, yet,
like his English relative, he is occasionally carnivorous in his
appetite, for he has been detected in the cruel act of robbing birds’
nests and devouring their callow young.
Some Squirrels are remarkable for their extreme agility in climbing
trees, and in making extraordinary leaps from one bough to another or
from some elevated spot to the earth. The Ground Squirrels, however,
are intended to abide on the earth, and are seldom known to ascend
trees to any great height. As they possess cheek-pouches, they are
placed in a separate genus under the name of Tamias, which is a Greek
word, signifying a store-keeper, and are distinct from the others
in being furnished with these appendages. _Tamias striatus_ is the
appellation by which the subject of our sketch is known to the books.
CANINE SAGACITY.
Many years ago, two decades or more, the writer was the possessor of a
little dog--a French poodle by breed. A more knowing animal of his kind
never lived. He was a pretty creature, with hair as white as driven
snow, and manners the most agreeable. Great pride was taken in his
appearance. That his dress should maintain its natural purity, he was
weekly subjected to a warm-water bath. This task devolved upon a little
brunette, for whom the canine had contracted a strong affection.
Frisky, for such was our pet’s name, had never before coming into
the family known what it was to receive a good washing. His first
experience was as uninteresting as it was novel and strange. It was
anything but pleasant to him, but the little fellow bore it like a
martyr.
Such treatment, by the ordinary cur, would have been resented with
snaps and snarls, but his was a gentle nature that knew no such
untoward manifestations. But there was, all the same, an aversion to
the bath, as looks only too plainly indicated. So pronounced was the
dislike, that the very sight of water caused his delicate frame to
shake like a child’s with the cold.
Had not the greatest care been taken in the preparation of the bath,
it might have been thought that the tremors that shook his by no
means robust frame were induced by the water’s chilliness or by its
undue warmth. But this could not be the case, as the fluid was always
tempered to the most sensitive touch.
But there came a time, however, when Frisky was determined to evade
these kindnesses upon the part of his mistress. He had pleaded
immunity from them in pitying glances, but without avail. Something
must be done, his looks would seem to say, as he lay cuddled up by the
cosy kitchen fire. One could almost read the thoughts that were shaping
themselves in his mind.
For three long years Frisky, who had been allowed to sleep at nights
in the sitting-room, was accustomed, when morning broke, to visit the
different members of the family in their respective dormitories, and
have a lively, rollicking time. These visits were always looked forward
to, and in no instance, during the whole of that period, were they
ever intermitted. To have missed one of these exciting romps, would
have been a keenly-felt deprivation. But that we were to be doomed to
such disappointment and affliction, subsequent events only too clearly
showed.
One Saturday morning, for it was always on the Jewish Sabbath that the
bath was given, Frisky failed to make his accustomed calls. This was
noticed by everyone, and no amount of comment was provoked. Loudly
his name was spoken, but no response was elicited, and it soon became
evident that the cunning little elf was beyond the reach of calling.
Search was instituted, but to no effect. His absence was lamented, and
it was feared some calamity had befallen him. A silence, like unto
death, filled the house. There was weeping and wailing about, for
Frisky was not.
But just as the shadows of night were deepening, and hope was dying
out of the bosoms of all, the patter of little feet was heard upon the
pavement leading to the back-door. The sounds were too familiar to
be those of a stranger. All listened with breathless silence. “’Tis
Frisky, ’tis Frisky,” went up a chorus of voices, and we all rushed
to the door to welcome the runaway back to the fold. Not a chiding
word was spoken, not a look of reproof given, as with outstretched
arms the culprit was received to our hearts. A more crestfallen,
conscience-stricken being, however, could hardly be conceived to exist.
Things resumed their wonted sway. Happiness reigned once more in
the family. Frisky’s matutinal visits were as though they had not
been interrupted. His frolics had all their former vivacity. The sin
committed had been condoned, and he in splendid repute again.
[Illustration: MY DOG FRISKY.
How He Greeted His Master.]
A week since his first wrong-doing had elapsed. Would he repeat his
plan of getting rid of the obnoxious bath?--had never entered our
minds. The day dawned bright and lovely. All was bustle outside,
and the slamming of shutters told that the servant was astir in the
kitchen. As was her usual custom, the entry door was left open for
Frisky. All ears were on the stretch. There were no familiar signs.
The sharp, glad bark that always heralded his coming was wanting, and
so, too, the timing of little feet upon the stairs. Not a sound of
breathing, not a rustle of counterpane, was heard. Still and motionless
we all lay, till the minutes seemed hours, and then came the thought
that it was Saturday and Frisky had again disappeared. Search was
everywhere made, but the missing one was nowhere to be found. That he
had slipped out when the door was opened, was now most obvious. No
effort was made to find his hiding-place, for we all knew that he would
come back with the shadows.
His coming was later this time than before. The sun had long gone to
rest. It was pitch dark when the pawing of little feet against the door
announced his return.
This second offence was passed over as the first had been, and Frisky
was his jolly, frolicsome self once more. A score of Saturdays was thus
managed and the hateful bath escaped, for well this cunning bit of
flesh and fur knew that the seventh was the only day of the week when
it was convenient for his mistress to attend to his ablutions.
That Frisky was able to count, or had some means of determining the
coming of the day he so thoroughly detested, there can be no question.
But the exceeding cuteness of his nature not only showed itself in his
manner of getting rid of the hateful bath, but in various other ways.
He seemed equal to every emergency that could arise. Oftentimes I have
watched him, as he lay upon a rug by the kitchen-hearth, or upon the
pillow of a new-made bed, for he was at liberty to go where he pleased
about the house, and I have fancied that I could see him thinking, or
read the train of thoughts passing through his mind, so human-like
seemed he in these reflective moments.
When scolded for some trifling misdoing, or threatened with denial of
some expected pleasure, no so-called brute could show more pitying
glances. His grief was often heart-rending to behold. Prostrate upon
the ground or carpet, or in what place soever he chanced to be,
he would moan and moan for hours together, and only consent to be
comforted when the burden was lifted from off his soul by a kind word
spoken, a smiling look given, or a quick, hearty shake of his delicate
paw. When happy, and it did not take much to make him happy, he was
full of life and vivacity, capering and prancing about with the utmost
_abandon_, and doing his very best to show off his happiness and
pleasure. His eyes seemed kindled with a holy affection, and a blaze of
heavenly sunshine would appear to play over his features. I have seen
him, when in such mental agony, to actually shed tears, a sight that
never could fail to reach and melt the flintiest hearts. He knew and
understood every word that was spoken to him, and responded by a shake
of the head, or a low, soft bark. A conscience within told him the
right from the wrong, and though he sometimes knowingly erred, yet he
was always truly sorrowful for his sins afterwards.
There came a day, however, when the idol of the household went out
and never returned. Some unlucky event had doubtless befallen him, or
he had been spirited away to parts unknown. If living, I trust he is
being cared for as he richly deserves. He was a kind, gentle, loving
being, and I cannot help thinking that some day I shall meet him in the
beautiful world beyond the grave.
FELINE INTELLIGENCE.
Probably no creature has been more calumniated by man than the Domestic
Cat. While wonderful intellectual powers, as well as the most amiable
traits of character, have been accredited to the dog, and rightly so,
it seems rather strange that so little of good has been found to exist
in the subject of our sketch. She has been held up to reprobation as a
thoroughly selfish animal, seeking her own comfort rather than that of
others, and manifesting a stronger attachment to places than to owners.
Sly and treacherous as her untamed kindred of the forests and jungles
are known to be, she receives no higher commendation, and is even
accused of concealing her talons in her velvety paws when matters go
pleasantly with her, and ready to use them even upon her best friends
when crossed in her purposes.
Whatever may have been the experience of those who have so grossly
libelled the Cat, my own large acquaintance with the animal has led
to different conclusions. Nearly all the Cats with which I have been
most familiar have been as docile, tractable and affectionate as any
dog could be, and have exhibited an amount of intellectual ability
unsurpassed by few dogs. There is as much to be said about the good
and bad temper of the Cat as of the dog, while, as to her mental
capacities, the advantage is not so decidedly upon the side of the
dog as is generally supposed. Nor is my own experience exceptional,
for in all instances where friends have possessed favorite Cats their
experiences have been similar to my own.
Self is not always paramount to everything else with Cats. Some are
generous to a fault. Mothers have been known, whose devotion to their
young has been so strong that they have hunted all day for their
benefit, even when the latter were full-grown, scarcely taking any
nourishment for themselves. But such feelings are perfectly natural.
When, however, we see a Cat that is willing to share its food with a
stranger, one cannot resist the thought that here is a case of real
generosity. A friend once possessed a fine black Cat. He was dainty in
his eating, scrupulously exact in his dress, and well-mannered in his
deportment. No Cat ever received better training. Unlike the average
Cat, he could be trusted in the presence of tempting viands, and was
never known to abuse the confidence reposed in him. Beauty, for so
he was called, was a model fellow, and well deserved the name. The
education he received, while it made him gentle, kind and affectionate,
and gave him reliability of character, did still more, for it endowed
him with a soul that was not a stranger to the noblest impulses. Life
had few luxuries that he did not enjoy; but a sprig of catnip was more
to him than the choicest steak or raciest tidbit, and to this luxury he
was weekly treated. Notwithstanding his fondness for the herb, he was
never reluctant to share it with another, whom Fortune had less favored.
Cats, at least such as are well circumstanced, possess some knowledge
of the uses of things. We once knew a Cat that would, when out of
doors, make its presence known by a few loud raps upon the closed door,
administered by its right front paw. If the call was not immediately
answered, a few more raps, louder than before, would be given, and then
the Cat, unable to restrain its impatience, would spring up to the
latch, striking it a downward blow, as though endeavoring, human-like,
to effect an entrance.
But quite as interesting as any of the foregoing cases is that of a
female Cat that had run a spine into one of her hind feet. Limping upon
three legs she made her way to her mistress, and, raising her foot,
implored with a piteous look and sad, distressing cries the removal of
the offensive spine. A child could not have made its suffering better
understood, nor supplicated the needed relief more intelligently, than
did this poor creature, which thoughtless man in his self-glorification
is so prone to regard as a senseless, unintelligent and unreasoning
being, which has no existence beyond this sublunary sphere.
[Illustration: TOM ON DUTY.
Guarding His Master’s Cows.]
While Cats are useful in the destruction of vermin, and afford man
no little amusement by their wonderful antics, yet they seldom put
themselves to any practical use. The Cat, about which we shall now have
something to say, is an exception to the rule, and quite a marvel in
his ways. He is a resident of a far-away town in New Jersey, and came
to his present quarters a long, gaunt, wild-eyed, unfed creature. But
something in his looks told of a soul within that fore-shadowed a great
deal of good, and so the Cat, which at first seemed an unwelcome guest,
began to be looked upon in an appreciative manner. And now Tom, as the
Cat is called, is a fixture in the household.
Almost from his advent into the family Tom began to give an exhibition
of his common-sense. This first remarkable show of intelligence was on
the Sunday succeeding his adoption. The family had repaired to church,
leaving Tom contentedly snoozing in a corner of the kitchen. But their
surprise can hardly be pictured when in the midst of the sermon Tom
came flying down the aisle to the place where his master was seated,
and clawing the legs of the trousers of the latter, began yelling at
the top of his voice. The minister stopped in the midst of his talking,
and everybody got up to see what the trouble was, but Tom, utterly
oblivious of them all, continued his strange behavior.
Convinced that the actions of the Cat were not the result of an
epileptic fit, but foreboded something wrong at the house, the male
portion of the congregation started thither, and when the house was
reached a dense column of smoke was seen pouring from the kitchen
window. The door was thrown open, and the carpet on the floor was
found burned to a cinder. A coal of fire had evidently fallen from the
stove-grate and started the fire. That Tom had understood the danger,
was shown by his actions.
One day, a horse, belonging to a neighboring farmer, ran away, and tore
down the road past Tom’s home at a thundering gait. Tom was sauntering
around the yard, and his attention being drawn to the rattling of
the wagon, he was soon in the road to see what the trouble was, and
observing that the team was unaccompanied by a driver, he leaped upon
the head of the runaway horse and hung on with teeth and claws until
the animal was secured. On another occasion a tramp, happening along
the road, descried a bicycle that belonged to one of the inmates of the
house. He was soon astride the wheel, and might have made his escape
had not he fallen under the eyes of Tom, who, as quick as a flash, was
after the thief. Leaping into the air, he fell on the man’s shoulders
and set his teeth firmly into his neck. There was a howl and a crash
that brought the family to the yard, and there they found the tramp
rolling on the ground and making desperate efforts to get away from
Tom’s rigid jaws. Finally the Cat was induced to relax his hold, and
the wounds of the tramp being cared for, he was allowed to proceed on
his way.
More wonderful still is what follows: When the master wants to bait
his cows and keep them within a certain area he instructs Tom to watch
them, and the allotted task is performed with all the faithfulness and
wisdom of a shepherd’s dog. Any disposition to stray outside the limits
is checked, the erring animal being hustled back by Tom, who, attaching
himself to her caudal extremity, remains there until she is brought
back to where she belongs.
No animals seem to require human sympathy so much as Cats, or to be so
capable of giving sympathy in return. Where they have formed a strong
attachment to a person they are loath to be away from his society and
follow him wheresoever he goes, giving caresses and expecting a liberal
share of the same in return. I have been upon a bed of sickness and a
favorite Cat, which I always addressed as Puss, would, whenever the
opportunity occurred, make her way into my room, and, jumping upon the
bed, lay her head against my face in the most endearing manner, and
purr her sweetest and gentlest, ever and anon stopping to express her
sympathy by licking my forehead or uplifted hand. Even when Puss has
been suffering from maladies to which all flesh of her kind is heir, I
have sat by her side and stroked her head, and have read in the look
which she gave me that she felt my sympathy and appreciated it beyond
any power of expression of hers to declare. She seemed to think at all
times that I was wholly her own, and no other Cat, not even one of
her own offspring, would be allowed such familiarities, as any attempt
was sure to provoke the most intense jealousy. Nor was I permitted
to lavish attentions upon any of her kith, for she would soon become
wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, and instant vengeance would
be wreaked upon the recipient of my favors.
Much more might be said about the Cat. It has its good qualities and
its bad qualities. There is hardly a trait of character which the human
animal possesses that it does not possess. Of course I now speak of
our Domestic Cat. In the long-past times, when the Egyptian nation was
at the head of the civilized world, _Felis maniculata_, which is the
reputed origin of our Domestic Cat, was universally domesticated in
their homes, and it is not unknown the very high position it held in
the love and esteem of the people, for it was deified and worshipped as
a god. Even in England, still later down in time, the Domestic Cat was
so scarce that royal edicts were issued for its preservation. Yet in
those days, A. D. 948, the wild Cat was rife in the British Islands and
was considered as a vicious animal, which must be destroyed, and not a
useful one to be protected by the law. How we came into the possession
of the Cat is a matter of conjecture, the current belief being that it
was imported from Egypt into Greece and Rome, and thence into England.
BRIGHT LITTLE CEBIDAE.
Next to man, in descending the scale of animal life, come the
Quadrumana, or Four-handed Animals. They are represented by the Apes,
Baboons, Monkeys and Lemurs. Excepting the last, and a few other
species, these animals are not very pleasing in aspect or habits, some
of them, the larger apes and baboons, being positively disgusting.
The air of grotesque humanity that characterizes them is horribly
suggestive of human idiocy, and we approach an imprisoned gorilla
or baboon with much the same repugnance that we do a debased and
brutal maniac. This aversion seems not to be produced so much by the
resemblance that the ape bears to man, as by the horror felt lest man
should degenerate to the condition, character and physiognomy of the
ape. But to the naturalist, who sees wonder or beauty in all things
animate, these creatures are no less pleasing than others that are not
so repugnant.
Were we to take a survey of the varied forms which the Quadrumana
of the Old World assume, we would find that the forms would show
such diversification that there would hardly seem scope for further
modifications. Yet the prolific power of nature is so inexhaustible,
that the depth of our researches would only bring to light objects
of such infinite variety of form as to overwhelm the mind with
surprise and admiration. Thus it would be found to be with the
Cebidæ, or American Monkeys. While they would be shown to possess
the chief characteristics of the monkey nature, thus establishing
their close relationship with the Old World monkeys, yet they would
be seen to exhibit the strangest modification of details. Their four
hand-like paws, and other quadrumanous peculiarities, would indicate
their _status_ in the animal kingdom, while sundry differences
of conformation would show that they were intended to live under
conditions that would ill suit their relatives on the other side of the
globe. Curious it is to observe how the same idea of animal life is
repeated in various lands and climates, even though seas, impassable
to creatures unaided by the light of civilized reason, intervene. So
we have the Simiadæ of Asia and Africa represented by the Cebidæ of
America. Nor is this wonderful idea restricted exclusively to the
man-like animals. The lion, tiger and other feline races of the Eastern
Continent find Western representatives in the puma and jaguar, and
the same circumstance may be observed of nearly all the mammalia, the
birds, the reptiles, the fishes, and, in short, through the entire
animal kingdom.