Homes Without Hands: Being a Description of the Habitations of Animals, Classed According to Their Principle of Construction - Page 12

THE curious AARD VARK of Southern Africa (Orycteropus Capensis) is another of the earth-burrowers, residing, for the most part, in great holes which it scoops in the ground.

The name Aard Vark is Dutch, signifying Earth-hog, and is given to the animal on account of its extraordinary powers of excavation and the swine-like contour of its head. The claws with which this animal works are enormous, as, indeed, is needful for the task which they are intended to perform. They are by no means intended merely to excavate burrows in soft or sandy soil, though they are frequently employed for that purpose; but they are designed for labors far more arduous. By means of these implements, the Aard Vark tears to pieces the enormous ant-hills which stud the plains of Southern Africa—edifices so strongly made as to resemble stone rather than mud, and capable of bearing the weight of many men on their summits. These marvelous dwellings (of which we shall see something in a future page) are absolutely swarming with inmates; and it is for the purpose of feeding upon the tiny builders that the Aard Vark plies its destructive labors.

Aard Vark.

Toward evening the Aard Vark issues from the burrow wherein it has lain asleep during the day, proceeds to the plains, and searches for an ant-hill in full operation. With its powerful claws it tears a hole in the side of the hill, breaking up the stony walls with perfect ease, and scattering dismay among the inmates.

As the ants run hither and thither, in consternation, their dwelling falling like a city shaken by an earthquake, the author of all this misery flings its slimy tongue among them, and sweeps them into its mouth by hundreds. Perhaps the ants have no conception of their great enemy as a fellow-creature, but look upon the Aard Vark as we look upon the earthquake, the plague, or any other disturbance of the usual routine of nature. Be this as it may, the Aard Vark tears to pieces many a goodly edifice, and depopulates many a swarming colony, leaving a mere shell of irregular stony wall in the place of the complicated and marvelous structure which had sheltered so vast a population.

The ant-hills thus destroyed are metamorphosed into caverns, which form hiding-places for the jackals and other predaceous beasts, and are resorted to by various serpents. The Kaffir tribes often use them as extemporized burial vaults, and thrust into them the dead bodies of their comrades. Owing to the great burrowing powers of the Aard Vark, the capture of a living specimen is a task of enormous difficulty, the claws being instruments of excavation that conquer the spade of civilized man. Unless disturbed, however, and forced to dig deeper through fear of capture, the Aard Vark makes but a shallow burrow, and lies at a short distance from the surface of the earth. The excavations are, however, deep enough and plentiful enough to be dangerous to the traveler, causing the wheels of wagons to sink into them, so that the machines capsize. Horses, too, frequently fall into these treacherous pitfalls while the hunter is in full chase; and severe injuries are sometimes the consequence of such a mishap.

THERE are two large islands, one large enough to take rank as a continent, which are pre-eminent for the strange character of the creatures which inhabit them. Whenever an animal of more than usual oddity is brought to England, we may safely conjecture that it was taken either in Madagascar or Australia. The creatures which we are now about to examine are natives of the latter country.

Perhaps there never was a more extraordinary and unique being than the well-known animal which is so familiar to us under many titles. Some call it the DUCKBILL, on account of its mandibles, which are ludicrously like those of the bird from which it derives its name. Others call it the WATER MOLE, on account of its aquatic habits and mole-like fur.

Some scientific naturalists have called it the Ornithorhynchus paradoxus; others have given it the name of Platypus anatinus—the former title being to my mind by far the more appropriate and expressive of the two. The natives of Australia have several names for this remarkable animal; some calling it Mallangong, others Tambreet, and others Tohunbuck—the second of these titles being most generally in use.

Mallangong or Duckbill.

Until Dr. Bennett prosecuted his well-known researches in Australia, no European knew precisely whether the Duckbill was a burrower, or, indeed, whether it had a home of any kind. The natives were well aware of the fact that the animal dug tunnels into the ground, and showed great address in discovering the burrows and unearthing the inmates. There, however, their knowledge seemed to end. The only value of an animal to a native Australian is its capability of being eaten, and the only lore which an Australian troubles himself to acquire is the knowledge of the habits of the animal with reference to catching it. When he knows where to look for an animal, and how to kill it, he has reached the limit of his education, and never troubles his brain about any branch of learning which does not assist him in procuring something to eat.

In accordance with this principle, Dr. Bennett found that the native Australians were admirable assistants and safe guides up to a certain extent. They could discover the hidden burrows of the Duckbill with instinctive certainty, and could then dig out the animal with their pointed sticks faster than the Europeans with their spades. They knew, moreover, that the burrow had a very evil savor, as is the case with many burrows, and cautioned Dr. Bennett not to thrust his hand into the tunnel, because "he make smell hand." But in all points of abstract natural history, they were totally at fault.

They did not agree as to the domestic economy of the Duckbill, and were not at all sure whether the young were born alive or hatched from eggs. Some advocated the latter opinion, and said that "old woman have eggs, there in so many days;" but their ideas of the eggs in question were exceedingly vague, oval and spherical eggs being equally declared to belong to the Duckbill. Others rejected the egg theory. "Bel cambangs (no egg)," said they, "tumble down; pickaninny tumble down." And, as if to show the value of inductive reasoning, it more than once happened that when the natives positively averred that the Duckbill could not possibly be hidden in certain localities, Dr. Bennett conjectured that she was very likely to be there, and succeeded in finding her in the very spot which he had pointed out.

On looking at a living Duckbill, few would set it down as an excavator of the soil; yet it is a burrower, and makes tunnels of great length and some complexity. The soft broad membrane that extends beyond the claws while the animal is walking or swimming, and in the latter case forms a paddle by which the creature can propel itself swiftly through the water, falls back when the foot is employed for digging, and aids the animal in flinging back the soil which its claws have scraped away. The rotund body is admirably adapted for traversing the burrows, though the stuffed specimens which generally are seen in museums give but little idea of such capability. As a general rule, these stuffed specimens are much too long, too stiff, too straight, too flat, and too shriveled. During life, the body is round, and the skin hangs in loose folds around it, having a very curious aspect when the creature is walking upon the land. The Duckbill is, in fact, so very odd a being, that dogs who see it for the first time, as it scrambles along with its peculiar waddling gait, will sit and prick up their ears, and bark at the strange animal, but will not dare to meddle with it; while cats fairly turn tail, and scamper away from so uncanny a beast. The hair with which the body is so densely covered is admirably suited to an animal which passes its time in the water or underground. Next the skin there is a thick, close coating of woolly fur, through which penetrates a second coat of long hairs, which are very slender at their bases, and can therefore turn in any direction, like those of the mole. The eyes are fuller and rounder than might be expected in an animal that passes so much of its time underground; but they are defended from the earth by a remarkable leathery flap, which surrounds the base of the mandibles, and looks very like the leathern guard of a foil. This curious appendage has probably another use, and is intended to prevent the bill from being thrust too deeply into the mud when the animal is engaged in searching for food.

The wonderful duck-like mandibles into which the head is prolonged are sadly misrepresented in the stuffed specimens which we generally see, and are black, stiff, and shriveled, as if cut from shoe-leather. The dark color is unavoidable, at all events in the present state of taxidermy. Bare skin invariably becomes blackish-brown by lapse of time, no matter what the previous color may have been, so that the delicate tints of an English maiden's cheek and the sable hue of the blackest negro would, in a few years, assume the same dingy color, and become quite undistinguishable from each other. But there is no excuse nowadays for allowing the bare skin to become shriveled. The colors we can not preserve, the form we can and ought to reproduce. No one would conceive, after inspecting a dried specimen, how round, full, and pouting were once those black and wrinkled mandibles, and how delicately they had been colored while the animal retained life. Their natural hue is rather curious, the outer surface of the upper mandible being very dark gray, spotted profusely with black, and its lower surface pale flesh-color. In the lower mandible the inner surface is flesh-colored, and the outer surface pinky white, sometimes nearly pure white.

Having now glanced at the general form of the Duckbill as it is in life, and not as it is in museums, we will pass to the habitation which it constructs.

Being a peculiarly aquatic animal, the Duckbill always makes its home in the bank of some stream, almost invariably at those wider and stiller parts of the river which are popularly called ponds. There are always two entrances to the burrow, one below the surface of the water and the other above, so that the animal may be able to regain its home either by diving, or by slipping into the entrance which is above the surface. This latter entrance is always hidden most carefully under overshadowing weeds and drooping plants, and is so carefully concealed that the unaccustomed eyes of a European can very seldom find it.

When the grasses, etc., are put aside, there is seen a hole of moderate size, on the sides of which are imprinted the footmarks of the animal. By the dampness and sharpness of these impressions, the natives can form a tolerably accurate opinion whether the creature is likely to be at home or not, as, in the former case, the footmarks which point upward are fresher and wetter than those which point downward. While digging out the Duckbill, they occasionally pull out a handful of the clay, inspect the marks, and then fall to work afresh. From this hole the burrow passes upward, winding a sinuous course, and often running to a considerable length. From twenty to thirty feet is the usual average, but burrows have been opened where the length was full fifty feet, and where the course was most annoyingly variable, bending and twisting about so as to tire the excavators, and make them quite disgusted with their work. The natives never dig out the entire burrow, but push sticks along it, and sink shafts upon the sticks; just, in fact, as a boy digs out a humble bee's nest, by inserting twigs into the hole, and digging down upon them.

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