The red book of animal stories/In the American Desert
IN THE AMERICAN DESERT
Children who are lucky enough to have read Captain Mayne Reid’s charming tales, will remember all sorts of exciting stories of animals; but as so many of the old books have fallen out of fashion, we will give a couple of adventures taken from the ‘Desert Home,’ and no child who has once looked at these will be content without getting hold of the original volume.
The ‘Home’ was in the great American desert, which spreads over a large tract of country in the west of Texas and the east of New Mexico, nearly to the foot of the Rocky Mountains. People who live in such places must expect strange sights and sounds, and the battle of the snakes, which the settlers one day witnessed, was the sort of thing one might see at any moment.
Robert Rolfe, his wife and family had gone out West, to find a place where they might build a cabin, and live a happy and peaceable life. All sorts of things had to be thought of before a suitable spot was fixed on, but at last a log cabin was put up, and everyone began to hope that, by the time the winter came, the house would be snug and comfortable.
One day they all started for one of the salt springs which are to be found in such numbers through this region, and took a huge kettle with them, to boil down the salt before they carried it home. They had just finished dinner, and were sitting over the fire, when they heard a blue-jay screaming from a tree near by, and from the tone of her voice they knew quite well that an enemy must be at hand.
At first nothing was to be seen that would explain the bird’s alarm, but on glancing from the trees to the ground, they saw a thin yellow body moving noiselessly through the grass. Every now and then it stopped, raised its head, and touched the dry leaves with its tongue, and in so doing it stretched itself out, showing its full length, which was over six feet. At the end of its tail was a loose row of horny substances, which made a horrid sound when shaken, and gave the creature its name of ‘rattle-snake.’
Now, of course, no snake in the world could catch a bird if the bird chose to fly away, and the rattle-snake least of all, as it cannot climb trees. But snakes, as everybody knows, have a deadly power of fascination, and the people who were looking on were anxious to see whether the blue-jay would be able to resist the charm, or whether she would fall a victim to his spell.
By this time the snake had reached the foot of a big magnolia, and after sniffing all round the tree, coiled itself up in a great yellow heap, close to the stem, paying no heed to the foolish blue-jay, who had done her best to bring about her own death by the silly noise she was making. However, seeing at last that the snake was paying no attention to her, but only getting ready for a nap, the bird plucked up courage, and flew away to its nest.
A moment after, the rattle-snake made a slight movement, which proved he was not asleep after all. What was he waiting for? A squirrel most likely, for squirrels are the dinner which rattle-snakes like the best. Yes, sure enough, high up in the tree there was a hole, and along the grass was a tiny trail leading straight to the magnolia, and from certain marks on the bark, it was quite plain that the squirrels came and went that way. Now it was close to this trail that the snake had taken up his station.
They all sat with their eyes fixed on the hole, out of which a little head came peeping. It did not see the snake, but it did see the settlers, and did not seem to like the look of them, for there it was, and there it clearly meant to stay. Suddenly the dead leaves of the wood began to rustle violently, and out dashed another squirrel at its topmost speed, making for its home in the tree. Twenty feet behind a long yellow pine-weasel was in full chase.
The squirrel could think of nothing but the enemy behind, and never heeded any possible danger in front, yet, if it had only looked that way, it would have seen something more dreadful even than a pine-weasel. The rattle-snake had suddenly swelled to twice its natural size; his mouth was opened so wide that the lower jaw touched his throat, and his poisoned fangs were bare. As the squirrel flashed past him up the stem, the snake appeared to move his head slightly, but so little that it did not seem even to have touched the squirrel. Yet somehow, before the squirrel had reached the first branch, it began to climb more slowly, and in another moment stopped altogether. It swayed from side to side as if it had been seized with giddiness, then its claws gave way, and it fell dead into the jaws of the serpent.
The weasel, who in its headlong chase had very nearly rushed upon the same fate, stopped at a little distance, hissing and growling, and evidently half inclined to fight the snake, but at length it decided that this would be very unwise, so, with a final snarl, it marched off into the woods.
When the last hair of the weasel’s tail had vanished round a tree, the snake uncoiled himself, and licked the body of the squirrel well over, before swallowing it head foremost.
He was still engaged in this operation when a great creeper with scarlet flowers, hanging about twenty feet above the head of the rattle-snake, began to move in a curious way, and out of the wreaths of leaves and blossoms came a big, black body, as large as a man’s arm—a boa-constrictor. It glided down the creeper towards the trunk of the magnolia, taking the greatest care to do nothing which could rouse the attention of the rattle-snake, who, indeed, was wholly occupied in making ready the squirrel to swallow. He had just taken the head and shoulders into his mouth, when the boa-constrictor appeared dangling for a moment by a single loop of his tail; then he dropped, and before the lookers-on had time to see what had happened, both snakes were locked together in a death struggle.
As to size they were very well matched, but the boa-constrictor was thinner, and far more active. It wound and unwound itself round the rattle-snake’s body, pressing it close in its crushing embrace; and the rattle-snake was powerless to sting, as it could not get rid of the squirrel. Curious to say, they never fought face to face, but the head of the constrictor had seized the bony rattles of its foe, and with its strong tail was really beating him to death. It was quite plain who was going to win; the snake had no weapons now his poisoned fangs were useless, and soon his struggles grew feebler in the grasp of his enemy, and he stretched himself out, as dead as the squirrel.
In places that are the homes of wild animals, not a day passes without adventures of this kind. One day Mr. Rolfe and his son Frank went down the valley to collect some moss which hung in strips from the branches of the ‘live-oak,’ and made soft and comfortable stuffing for mattresses. They soon discovered what they wanted, and were very busy about their work, when some black and yellow orioles began making a terrific hubbub in a grove of pawpaws close by. Leaving the moss the two men crept behind a tree, to see what had caused the disturbance.
It was some minutes before they found out, then they saw an extraordinary bundle of heads and legs and tails coming slowly along towards the grove of pawpaws. What in the world could it be? Suddenly the great body seemed to divide up into a host of little ones, and behold
WATCHING THE COMBAT
there was an old grey, woolly opossum, the size of a big cat, and her thirteen little white rats of babies! Opossums are ugly creatures, and this one was no better than the rest. Her nose was long and sharp, her legs short and fat, and her tail, which was nearly the length of her whole body, was quite naked. Underneath, she had a pouch like a kangaroo.
When she had got rid of her thirteen children, the old opossum stood still and stared straight up into a tall pawpaw, where the birds were fluttering and screaming more wildly than ever; every now and then making a dive down to the opossum, who took no notice of their proceedings. The two men followed her eyes, and saw an oriole’s nest, hanging like a pocket from the top twigs of the tree.
The old opossum saw it too, and uttered a sharp cry which brought all the little ones running helter-skelter from their game in the dead leaves. Some tucked themselves safely into their mother’s pouch, two used her tail as a rope, and lay comfortably down in her hair, while others held on by her neck. When seven or eight had gone to their places, the whole mass began to climb the pawpaw. At the first branch the heavily laden animal stopped, and then, holding the kittens one by one in her mouth, she passed their tails twice round the branch, and there they hung heads downwards, looking very funny indeed. When she had disposed of those she had with her, she went back to the ground for the rest, till the whole thirteen were suspended from the branch!
This business done she could now go up the tree with an easy mind, and very cautiously she made her way towards the nest, the birds growing more and more excited the higher she climbed, till their wings almost touched her nose. When she reached the branch on which the nest hung, she stopped doubtfully. It was very thin, and creaked beneath her weight as she moved along it. Clearly it was too dangerous, so she backed carefully till she was safe on the trunk, where she paused to consider what she could do next. All at once the branch of an oak, that stretched exactly out over the nest, caught her eye, and turning, she ran swiftly down the stem of the pawpaw, and up the oak. In another moment she was creeping out on the branch.
When she was right over the nest she curled round her tail, and let herself go. But it was no use. In vain she swung herself backwards and forwards, stretching herself out to her greatest length: the nest was still too
THE MOCCASON SNAKE FASCINATES THE ORIOLES
far away. The eggs she coveted were only a few inches off, but they were as much beyond her reach as if they had been miles away. At last, with a snort of disgust, she swung herself back again, and came down the oak.
The young ones were soon unhooked from their station on the pawpaw, and tucked away as before. Then, evidently in a very bad temper, she took her whole cargo off into the wood.
The birds now changed their note, and after singing a short song of victory, became quite still. Suddenly the fluttering and chattering began afresh, and through the grass came gliding a huge moccason snake. If the birds had only known, they and their nest were safe enough, for the moccason cannot climb trees, but it has other ways of getting at its prey.
The nearer the snake came the greater grew the noise of the orioles, though every circle that they made brought them lower and lower, and closer to the snake. The moccason watching steadily, saw that the spell of his fascination had almost worked, for the birds sometimes actually touched the ground in their flutterings, while their wings moved more and more slowly. At length one stood quite still with his mouth open; but instead of seizing his prey, the moccason suddenly uncoiled himself and took flight the way he had come, while the birds, who had so narrowly escaped death, flew into the tree.
The reason of the snake’s strange conduct was the sudden appearance of a peccary or wild hog on the outskirts of the wood, a creature about as large as a wolf, with bristles in place of hair, and sharp tusks sticking out of its mouth. It was closely followed by two young ones who, instead of being dark grey, were a kind of red.
The peccary had not seen the snake, and was not thinking about it, till suddenly she stepped by accident across its trail. The smell of the moccason was quite unmistakable, and she ran about with her nose on the ground, sniffing the scent. At first she made one or two false starts, for, of course, the snake had left a double track; but having settled on the right one, she started off at full speed.
Meanwhile the snake was hastening as quickly as its natural slowness allowed, towards the shelter of the cliffs, taking care to keep itself hidden as it went in the long grass. But the peccary, coming galloping along with her nose on the ground, almost tumbled over it before she was aware, and both parties drew back and prepared for battle. For a minute or two they eyed each other; the peccary drew back and then came on with a sudden rush, ending with a spring high into the air, which brought her straight on the moccason’s back. It was a most curious form of attack, for no sooner had the peccary alighted on the back of the snake, with all its four paws pressed closely together, than it bounded off again. This was repeated two or three times, and then she sprang right on the head of the moccason, breaking its neck on the ground by the pressure of its claws. Once more the thicket sounded with the cry of victory, and the peccary, calling to her young ones, who had taken no part in the battle, ran up to the snake, which she skinned very neatly with her tusks and teeth, before eating the flesh for supper.
But she had not very long to enjoy herself with her family, before she was disturbed. Through the weeds and jungle which grew up to a short distance of the bare spot where the combat between the peccary and the moccason had taken place, came stealing softly a beast with a long thin red body, and a head like a cat. It was the fierce and tree-climbing cougar.
The peccary went on with her supper, quite unconscious that she was being watched by her deadliest enemy, who was calculating his chances of making a successful spring upon her back, for he knew too well what a peccary’s tusks were like to wish for an encounter with them. Apparently he decided that the leap was too great for his powers, so he turned stealthily back and ran up a tree which cast its shade over the group of peccaries. Then, gathering himself together, he uttered a battle cry, and leapt straight on her neck.
For some time the fight raged—silently on the part of the cougar, noisily on that of the peccaries, for even the little ones ran round and tried to think they were lending a helping hand; but the peccary had no chance from the beginning, and before long was lying dead on her side, with the cougar lapping her blood.
But strange noises were now heard coming nearer and nearer through the brushwood. The cougar rose quickly to his feet, and tossing the dead peccary over his shoulder, he made off in the opposite direction to that from which the sounds came.
It was too late; for at the same moment a herd of twenty or thirty peccaries, who had been summoned by the cries of the dying one, rushed across the open, and cut off the retreat of the cougar. In an instant he was surrounded, and flinging down the body of the peccary, he sprang upon the nearest living one, felling it with a blow from one of his paws; at the same moment he himself was seized from behind and pulled down.
It did not seem possible that one animal, however fierce, could keep so many foes at bay; but two or three times he shook them off and sprang into the air, only to be caught and dragged back by some watchful peccary. At last, he gathered up all his strength, and with a desperate leap cleared the circle, and made straight for the tree where the two men were sitting, and before they could even cock their rifles, he was crouching on a branch above them, and glaring at them with his fierce eyes.
If ever anybody might be said to be ‘between the devil and the deep sea,’ it was Rolfe and Frank at this moment; for if the cougar was above them, below were the peccaries puffing and snorting, and tearing at the bark of the tree.
However, in a few seconds Rolfe collected his senses, and came to the conclusion that the enemy above was more to be dreaded than the enemy below. For peccaries cannot climb trees, but cougars can and do quite easily! In fact, had it not been for the presence of the peccaries, he would never have waited so long.
They had only one gun between them, and even Frank’s bow and arrows were not to be counted on, as he had carelessly left them lying at the foot of the tree, and the peccaries had long since made them into chips. Rolfe therefore told the boy to change places, and get behind him, so that the first brunt of the cougar’s attack might fall upon himself. This was done quietly, but with some difficulty, for it is not very easy to pass another person on the branch of a tree.
When they were settled in their places, Rolfe fired at the cougar’s head, for the rest of the body was covered by the thick moss. For a moment the smoke prevented his seeing if the shot had taken effect, and he felt as if every instant he might feel the creature’s claws in his throat. While it was still too thick for him to make out anything, he heard something falling heavily through the leaves; then a thud and a scream and a rush, and in a minute or two the peccaries trotted away.[1]
- ↑ These anecdotes are not to be taken as historically true.