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

This serpentine form of burrow is in all probability attributable in a great degree to the peculiar instincts of the animal. As, however, the course of the tunnel is extremely variable, and no two burrows have precisely the same curves and windings, it is likely that various obstacles, such as roots and stones, may turn the animal out of its course while engaged in digging its subterranean home, and therefore that the shape of the burrow may in some measure depend upon the character of the ground. At the upper extremity of the burrow is placed the nest, an excavation of a somewhat oval form, much broader than the width of the burrow, and well supplied with dry weeds and grasses, upon which the young may rest. They appear to remain in these burrows until they have attained half their full growth, for Dr. Bennett captured a pair of young Duckbills, ten inches in length, which seemed not to have left the burrow. Sometimes there are four young in one nest, and sometimes there is only one, but the usual number is two.

The Duckbill is a far more active animal than could be conceived merely by looking at its form. It is very powerful in proportion to its size, so strong, indeed, that it can not be held in the hands without great difficulty, slipping through the grasp almost as if it were oiled. The loosely-hanging integuments aid it in this method of escape, and under them may be felt the powerful subcutaneous muscles working with vast energy. It is an admirable climber, not only in its wild state, but among civilized objects. Dr. Bennett found that a pair of tame Duckbills, which he kept for some time, were in the habit of clambering to the tops of bookshelves and other articles of furniture, achieving this feat by a process similar to that which is employed by chimney-sweepers, and those whose business calls upon them to ascend narrow perpendicular passages—namely, by placing their backs against the wall and their feet against the bookcase, and so working their way upward, in a strictly vermicular fashion.

I remember that during my childhood I was frequently found upon the roof of a stable by my parents, who could not conceive the method by which so small a boy could have reached so great an altitude. The fact was, that a summer-house had been built within a foot or two of the stable-wall, so that by means of placing my feet against one wall and my back against the other, I was soon deposited on the roof of the summer-house. A jump and a clutch then transferred me to the stable-roof, where the grapes grew; whereby was manifested the practical advantage of watching the climbing boys ascend the chimney.

This mode of climbing may probably be called into operation while the animal is engaged in ascending the almost perpendicular part of the burrow, just above the water's edge.

The whole life of this animal is very similar to that of the musk-rat, already mentioned, and is an alternation between the water and the burrow. While swimming, the animal hardly looks like a living and breathing creature, but bears a great resemblance to the loose bundles of weeds that float vaguely in the water. Though decidedly aquatic in its habits, the Duckbill can not withstand a very long immersion in the water; and Dr. Bennett found that few of them could endure an immersion of fifteen, or at the most twenty minutes, without being much fatigued by the exertions which they made in order to keep themselves afloat. Several persons who have procured living specimens have drowned them by placing them in water from which there was no mode of escape.

THERE is another strange Australian animal, also remarkable for its power of burrowing. This is the creature which is known as the PORCUPINE ANT-EATER (Echidna hystrix), and is called by the very erroneous names of Porcupine, or Hedgehog. The natives have several names for it, some calling it Nicobejan, others Jannocumbine, and others Cojera.

Here I may mention the curious circumstance that in three orders of animals, widely separated from each other in structure, habits, and locality, the hairs of the back are greatly enlarged, and developed into stout and sharp spines. There are several species of hedgehog, natives of Europe, and the Tanrecs of Madagascar, all insectivorous animals; there are the various porcupines which inhabit Africa, Asia, Southern Europe, and America, and belong to the rodent group; and there is the Echidna, one of the monotrematous animals which is found only in Australia.

The Echidna is a wonderful burrower, and, in spite of its small size, can make its way through very hard ground. It can pull up stones of great size if it can only contrive to insert its paws and find a convenient crevice for them, and is so quick at this task that to confine the animal is by no means an easy matter, even a paved yard affording but a poor safeguard against its escape. In the open country it digs with such extreme rapidity that it can hardly be captured, gathering its back into an arched form, collecting the legs under the body, scratching away with the feet, and sinking like a stone in a cup of treacle.

These paws are not only potent in digging, but in clinging to any object, and their hold is so wonderfully firm that they can not be disengaged even from smooth boards without very great trouble. To grasp the creature is impossible, because the sharp points of the projecting spines are capable of inflicting painful wounds, and its feet are so completely hidden under the body that they can not be separately detached. Dr. Bennett gives a very graphic account of its clinging powers:—"When one of these animals was given to me, and placed in the box of the gig to bring home, on arriving there I could not by any effort remove it, from its adhering to the boards like a limpet to the rocks (the head and snout being drawn in). Only a formidable array of prickles was visible, so sharp that on the least touch they left a very painful feeling on the hands. So firmly was the animal fixed, that it was impossible to stir it from that position. At last, the method of removing limpets and chitons from the rocks was resorted to, and a spade being inserted gradually at one extremity of the animal, it was scraped from its position with some difficulty, and even then it was some length of time before we succeeded in grasping the hind legs, and conveying the troublesome creature to the place of confinement allotted to it."

Grasping it by the hind leg is the only method of conveying this animal with safety, for it kicks so hard with its powerful and armed feet, that the hands and clothes will suffer severely from the strokes; while the violent plunges of the body are sure to bring the pointed prickles into unpleasant contact with the fingers. In spite of the difficulty of procuring living specimens, and the interest which attaches itself to an animal of whose habits so little is known, Dr. Bennett was not very sorry when his specimen—which we can not call a tame one—was one day found dead; for its burrowing propensities were so destructive, and its prickles so annoying, that it made itself into a positive nuisance.

If attacked when on ground into which it can not burrow rapidly, the Porcupine Ant-eater immediately curls itself into a ball, hedgehog-wise, and sets its foes at defiance. The large perforated spur with which the hind feet of the male are armed, and through which is poured a liquid secreted by a gland of considerable size, is a very formidable-looking weapon, but to all appearances is really harmless. Dr. Bennett often handled the animal, but never saw it attempt to use the spur, and found that the duckbill, which is armed in a similar manner, was equally innocuous.

At the present date, January, 1864, the living animal may be seen in the collection at the Zoological Gardens.

CHAPTER II. BURROWING BIRDS.

The SAND MARTIN.—Mode of Burrowing and Shape of the Tunnel.—Enemies of the Sand Martin.—Midges and Martins.—The KINGFISHER and its Habits.—Its Burrow and peculiar Nest.—Number of the Eggs.—The PUFFIN a feathered Usurper.—The Feroe Islands and the Puffins.—Pro aris et focis.—The MUTTON BIRD and its Burrows.—Snakes and Birds.—The JACKDAW, STOCKDOVE, and SHELDRAKE.—Nest of the Sheldrake.—The BEE-EATER and its Habits.—Its Burrow and Nest.—The STORMY PETREL.—Its Mode of Nesting and shallow Tunnels.—Mode of feeding its Young.—Evil Odor of its Burrow.—The WOODPECKER.—Its Uses and misunderstood Character.—Method of Burrowing.—The Fungus and the Woodpecker.—American Woodpeckers.—The WRY-NECK.—Its popular Names and Locality of its Nest.—The STARLING.—Its social Character.—Locality of its Habitation.—The TREE CREEPER.—The NUT-HATCH and the HOOPOE.—Curious Nest of the Hoopoe.—The COLE-TIT and its Habits.—A Cole-tit's Nest at Walton Hall.—The TOUCAN.—The enormous Beak and its Uses.—Nest of the Toucan.—The SWIFT.—Its Nest and Eggs.—Its curious Feet and their Structure.

WE now take leave of the furred burrowers, and proceed to those which wear feathers instead of hair.

One of the best examples of Bird Burrowers is the well-known SAND MARTIN (Cotyle riparia), so plentiful in this country. The powers of this pretty little bird seem to be quite inadequate to the arduous labors which it performs so easily, and few would suppose, after contemplating its tiny bill, that it was capable of boring tunnels into tolerably hard sandstone. Such, however, is the case, for the Sand Martin is familiarly known to drive its tunnels into sandstone that is hard enough to destroy all the edge of a knife.

The bird does not prefer a laborious to an easy task, and if it can find a spot where the soil is quite loose, and yet where the sides of the burrow will not collapse, it will always take advantage of such a locality. I have frequently seen such instances of judgment, where the birds had selected the sandy intervals between strata of stone, and so saved themselves from any trouble except scraping and throwing out the loose sand.

When, however, the Sand Martin is unable to find such a situation, it sets to work in a very systematic fashion, trying several successive spots with its beak, until it discovers a suitable locality. It then works in a circular direction, using its legs as a pivot, and by dint of turning round and round, and pecking away as it proceeds, soon chips out a tolerably circular hole. After the bird has lived for some time in the tunnel, the shape of the entrance is much damaged by incessant passing to and fro of the inmates, but while the burrow is still new and untenanted, its form is almost cylindrical. In all cases the tunnel slopes gently upward, so as to prevent the lodgment of rain, and its depth is exceedingly variable. About two feet and a half is a fair average length. Generally, the direction of the burrow is quite straight, but sometimes it takes a curve, where an obstacle, such as a stone or a root, has interrupted the progress of the bird. Should the stone be a large one, the Sand Martin usually abandons the burrow, and resumes its labors elsewhere, and in a piece of hard sandstone rock many of these incomplete excavations may be seen.

Sand Martin.

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At the farthest extremity of the burrow, which is always rather larger than the shaft, is placed the nest—a very simple structure, being little more than a mass of dry herbage and soft feathers, pressed together by the weight of the bird's body. Upon this primitive nest are laid the eggs, which are very small, and of a delicate pinky whiteness.