Buch lesen: «Birds and Nature Vol. 10 No. 5 [December 1901]», Seite 5

THE ERMINE

The Ermine is an aristocratic branch of the weasel family. His coat of pure or creamy white is the envy of kings, nobles and judges, whose robes of state or office etiquette prescribes shall be lined or faced with this matchless fur. A narrow band of the same is turned up around the crimson velvet cap worn beneath the British monarch’s crown and the coronets of peers.

At the coronation of King Edward and Queen Alexandra, which is to succeed the period of mourning for the late queen, the royal regalia will be brought into requisition, and in all its magnificent makeup not the least feature will be the priceless ermine trimming, costing the life of many a luckless animal. In view, therefore, of his constant exposure to martyrdom the price the Ermine pays for his social distinction is dear enough and should excite in his humbler cousins, even were they disposed to be sensitive on the point of birth, more of pity than of jealousy.

He dresses in perfection, however, only in winter, and that of the coldest regions, where the exceeding whiteness of his covering serves the two-fold purpose of retaining heat and concealing his presence on the universal carpet of snow, both from the enemies seeking his life and from the prey on which he subsists.

For a summer outing suit nature provides him an unconventional dress of light reddish brown varied with a stomacher of tawny white. With the doffing of his regal attire he also lays aside the distinguished title of Ermine and becomes plain Mr. Stoat.

This species of the weasel is found throughout Great Britain and in most parts of continental Europe, but except in northern Scotland, Scandinavia, and Russia the winters are neither sufficiently long nor cold to produce a complete change of color and he is left with a funny piebald coat which no one covets. The skins that supply the markets of the world all come from the arctic countries of the three northern continents, Europe, Asia and North America. A permanent feature of the Ermine’s coat is the glossy black tail tip, which in the preparation of the fur is inserted at regular intervals on the white, where the sharp contrast gives a most pleasing effect.

An utter abhorrence of uncleanness is a characteristic instinct of his lordship, and impels him to suffer capture or death rather than become soiled or bedraggled. This sentiment of purity is figuratively transferred to the fur whose use on the garments of rulers and judges symbolizes the purity of justice and law.

Determination and perseverance are qualities displayed in the pursuit of game for food, consisting of small herbivorous animals, birds, and eggs. In length the Ermine’s body is about ten inches; the tail, four inches; the legs are short, bearing the slender body with a creeping snake-like motion.

M. A. Hoyt.

THE RHESUS MONKEY
(Macacus rhesus.)

It was in Simla that we first encountered the Rhesus Monkey. We had gone up to Simla to escape the intense heat of Bombay, and, refreshed by the cool air of the “hill country,” we were soon ready to make the expedition to the hill called Jako. This hill is indeed the hill of the monkeys. It is eight or nine thousand feet above the level of the sea, and here lives a fakir, who feeds the monkeys as they troop down the mountainside at his call.

Undoubtedly there is no more mischievous monkey than the Rhesus, but, after all, he is not altogether to blame, for the blame may belong to the Hindoos. Some tell us that the Rhesus Monkey is sacred; others think not. But, however that may be, it is a fact that the Hindoos protect the monkeys in every possible way, willingly sharing their food with the bands which are found almost everywhere, and permitting no one to kill them.

This fosters every mischievous trait in these monkeys, and they fear nothing from man. They will devastate every plantation and garden near them. They belong to that genus of the ape family called Macaque, and as this variety, with their near relations, the other macaques, are found all over Southeastern Asia, besides one branch in Western Africa, one can readily see that their mischievousness becomes a serious drawback.

The natives of Baka are said to leave one-tenth of their harvests in heaps for the monkeys, which come down in great numbers and carry away all that is left for them. And this they can readily do on account of their well-developed cheek pouches. These pockets in the cheeks are assuredly most convenient, but are never found on American monkeys. The Old World monkeys are the narrow-nosed variety, while the American monkeys have the broad nose bone.

Our Rhesus Monkeys had, of course, the narrow nose bone. They averaged about twenty inches long, and the tail was half as long. Like all the macaque monkeys, they were of sturdy build, with legs of moderate length. In color the fur was grayish or greenish on the upper part, yellowish over the hips and white below. The tail was greenish above and gray under. The face, ears and hands were of a light copper color.

The mother monkeys were most assiduous in the care of their young, but in educating them one of the most important lessons was to teach them to steal successfully. This the pupils learned with ease, and to find a Rhesus Monkey which could not steal would be a curiosity indeed.

While in Simla we were told the oft-repeated story of Lady Barker’s dinner. Lady Barker, desiring to give a dinner to a large number of guests, took unusual pains in the preparation of the feast. With her own hands she arranged the flowers, and in the most attractive manner were placed upon the table all the delicacies possible to procure, far and near. When everything was arranged to her entire satisfaction, she retired to array herself for the reception of her guests. The servants were left in charge of the rooms, but instead of watching the tables, they deserted their posts to amuse themselves in a more congenial way. Imagine the surprise and consternation when, upon descending to the dining room, she found it filled with guests, but not those whom she had invited. A large band of monkeys had entered through the windows and were enjoying themselves without restraint. Poor Lady Barker had nothing left to offer her invited guests but the spoiled remains of her sumptuous feast. Her little lap-dog “Fury” met with an untimely death by the hands of probably this same band of monkeys. The dog waged war on the creatures at every opportunity, but one day a large monkey managed to catch him and carry him along to its tree-top. There the dog was tormented by all the monkeys, being passed from hand to hand and finally thrown down a precipice.

While the Rhesus is an intelligent creature and easily taught while young, it it a question whether one really wishes this monkey for a pet, for when old, they become vicious and spiteful and can bite and scratch in a dangerous manner.

In addition to the fruit and seeds which they eat, they are also fond of insects and spiders, and frequently large parties may be seen searching the ground for these delicacies.

Professor Ball relates an interesting anecdote of these monkeys. He said that when at Malwa Tal, a lake where he spent a day, he was warned that when passing under a certain landslip which slopes to the lake, he would be liable to have stones thrown at him by the monkeys. As he thought this might be only a traveler’s tale, he took pains to go to the spot in order to see what had given rise to the story. As he approached the base of the landslip, he saw a number of Rhesus monkeys rush to the sides and across the top, and presently pieces of loosened stone and shale came tumbling down where he stood. He soon satisfied himself that this was not accidental, for he distinctly saw one monkey, industriously with both forepaws, push the loose shingle off a shoulder of rock. He then tried the effect of throwing stones at them, but this made them quite angry and the amount of fragments which they set rolling was speedily doubled. This adventure caused Professor Ball to believe that there may be some truth in the stories related in regard to monkeys throwing fruit at people from the tree tops, and yet even about monkeys it is not always best to credit all one hears.

John Ainslie.

AN ANIMAL TORPEDO

The gymnotus, or electric eel, is a common denizen of the stagnant pools and sluggish lagoons of the Llanos of Venezuela. It is known to the natives under the more suggestive name of arimna or something that deprives of motion.

Our first experience with this curious Animal Torpedo was on the borders of the Llanos, a few days’ journey to the south of Valencia. The pack mules, usually very slow, had preceded us, during the noon hour, while we had leisurely taken luncheon. In the course of an hour, we caught up with them, as they had reached a sluggish estuary of a neighboring river. Before we were in hailing distance, we could see, from the wild and frantic gesticulations of the muleteer, that something unusual had occurred. It proved to be an attack of electric eels upon the first mule, which had attempted to ford the lagoon. The animal had nearly reached the opposite shore before the attack was made, and thus, the first mule had escaped with only a few shocks from the invisible torpedoes. The other pack mules, just entering the stream, were turned upon savagely by the concealed serpents, and were wildly and frantically turning back, when we came upon the scene. Their distended nostrils and bulging, terrified eyes, with excited snorting and plunging, would have made a perfect picture of agonized terror. Their suffering, fortunately, was of short duration, as they soon gained the shore and dashed away madly over the prairie. The first mule, which had crossed, terrified by the electric shocks received, had retreated from the lagoon and, in a state of great fright, had plunged into a browsing herd of cattle, dangling its swaying pack and causing a frightened stampede among the half-wild herd. The latter, ignorant of the immediate peril, rushed toward the lagoon ford, and, if those in front hesitated, they were persistently prodded by those from behind. In a moment all were in the midst of their dreaded enemies in the water. A scene followed which is hard to describe. The poor brutes reared, bellowed and moaned; they gored each other in their agony, while their startled eyes seemed ready to jump from their sockets.

As the herd was numerous, the greater portion soon struggled out, and, with tails reared high in the air, they plunged, like maddened demons, across the prairie. Three cows and a heifer remained in the pool with the eels. The former, much exhausted, finally escaped from their tormentors, but the heifer, unable to withstand the repeated attacks, made one last effort, and, with a gasp, sank below the surface.

We spent some time in collecting our terrified pack mules and scattered baggage, finally crossing the bayou at a shallow point some distance above the ford. In the meantime, one of the mozos speared one of the eels, as they had become very sluggish and were swimming aimlessly about the surface, after having spent so much of their galvanic force. The captured specimen was about two and a half feet in length and would weigh about eight pounds. It had an olive green color and the upper part of the head was mingled with red. Two rows of yellow spots are placed symmetrically along the back, each spot containing an execretary aperture, which were its galvanic batteries. It possessed an enormous swimming bladder, which accounts for its great agility and swiftness in the water. The creature looks more like a fish than an eel, and is very difficult to capture in nets, owing to its agility and a habit of burying itself in the mud when frightened. The electric action of the eel depends entirely upon its own will and a shock can be given whether it is touched by one or both hands to complete the circuit. When wounded, their power is almost destroyed and they are able to give only feeble shocks. Humboldt describes putting both feet upon a newly-captured specimen, which rendered him entirely powerless for a considerable time. The shock was so great that he suffered all day from pains in his knee and back.

Though caught easily with a harpoon, the natives have such an intense dread of them that it is difficult for naturalists to secure specimens. The peons have an idea that one can escape the shock, while going through waters infested by the eels, if he carries a chew of tobacco in his mouth. This supposed influence of tobacco upon animal electricity is not entirely without some scientific basis, but in the form of a quid in the mouth it is, of course, purely imagination.

It is not an uncommon thing for a large colony of these eels, to attack and drown a horse in mid-stream, which they will leisurely devour afterwards. It is recorded that, during the patriot wars in Venezuela, a large army marching through the Llanos was seriously disabled in crossing a bayou infested with these mischievous creatures. At Damarara, British Guiana, in the early days, these eels were employed by the medical fraternity, to cure paralytic troubles, just as the torpedo fish was employed by the ancient Greeks.

Andrew James Miller.