Imagine a kangaroo about seven inches in length, with a head more like a squirrel's; great lustrous eyes admirably adapted for seeing at night; a long tail, heavily bushed at its end; a trim little creature, of a pale yellowish-brown hue above and white below; an animal that could stand on its hind legs and tail and walk about to a limited extent. Imagine such a creature, and you have Dipodomys as he was found among the poppy beds.
At first the new pet was wild, and made vigorous attempts at escape from the little room that was his prison, but finally a companion was trapped, and the pair became very tame and a source of never-ending pleasure.
It was soon discovered that Dipodomys was a seed eater, and that he had two little storehouses for grain, which he carried about. These were fur-lined pouches, and were on the outside of the mouth, one on each side. When Dipodomys found a supply of food his first object was to fill the pouches for a future meal. This he accomplished by using his handlike paws and tossing the seeds into the pouches—a feat performed with remarkable celerity; so rapidly, in fact, that the eye could not follow his movements.
The interesting pair slept in a little box, but had the run of a small room, and soon became quite fearless. Their motions reminded one of the kangaroo, as the long hind legs were used to propel them in their leaps. The tail was an important member, being employed with the legs as a tripod upon which they kept themselves upright.
One day while their owner sat watching them hop about, there evidently arose a difference of opinion, and to his amazement both little hoppers rose to their feet and stood upright upon the very tips of their toes, the tail touching the floor and serving as a rest. For a few moments they eyed each other very sharply, moving forward and back; then a mimic boxing match began, the two combatants facing each other much as boys are prone to do, only the blows were struck so rapidly that very soft sounds could be heard.
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"Then a boxing match began."
They did not attempt to use their teeth, and certainly little harm was done with their paws. Standing so erect, their handlike paws flying, their enormous mustaches vibrating, they presented a most ludicrous appearance.
The breach was soon made up, for their owner provided them with seeds, and the two began to fill their pouches. When the latter were full they would hop over to some dark corner and empty them, then hurry back with an air of perfect innocence regarding any previous supply.
To test the speed of the little creatures one was released on a sandy flat. It immediately bent down, touching the tips of its slender fore paws to the ground, then sprang forward, clearing at least three feet and a half; then another spring and another, moving so rapidly that it was with difficulty its owner caught up with it.
When these little animals slept, the head was dropped so that the nose touched the ground, and, coiled up as round as a ball, they would sleep away half the time.
Dipodomys was one of several species very similar in general appearance found in the Southwest. In some localities they are called pocket mice or rats, in others kangaroo rats; in the first instance because of the curious hair-lined external pockets which they have, and in the second on account of their jumping powers.
The near relations of the family are equally interesting, and are famous jumpers. One, the zapus, looks very much like a mouse, but has long powerful hind legs with which it makes marvelous leaps, clearing from seven to ten feet, and flying along so that its capture is almost impossible. It makes a most interesting pet, but owing to its jumping habits it is difficult to control. A zapus owned by a lady was kept in a room, and one day in a single leap it flew through the window from the middle of the apartment, landing in the garden, and making its escape.
The zapus is a winter sleeper. When the cold weather comes it descends into a burrow that it has made, and at the bottom, two or three feet from the surface, coils up in a nest of leaves and passes the time in a state of hibernation, fairly sleeping the winter away—a habit shared by some bears and the snakes and lizards of northern countries.
A cousin of these, the jerboa, is known in South Africa as the jumping hare, and is the largest of the group, attaining the size of a small rabbit. The jerboa lives in colonies. When leaping along it presents a remarkable appearance, its motion having been compared to flying. A jerboa has been known to leap over a horse and rider, clearing twenty-five or thirty feet. On returning to the ground they barely touch the feet, bounding again into the air, so that they resemble a bird swooping down and up again.
When observed unawares they present a laughable appearance on account of their upright position, the long kangaroolike legs enabling them to take an almost perpendicular stand, so that they resemble little men moving about. They have the same method of fighting as Dipodomys, striking at each other with their claws.
AN OCEAN SWORDSMAN.
"SHIP'S a-leak, sir." The speaker was the second mate of a large ship outbound from a Chinese port. The well had been sounded that morning as usual, and a foot of water found in the hold, and the leak, as the ship had just been docked, was a mystery.
The cargo was tea, silk, and other valuable goods, so the captain, after vainly trying to discover the cause of the trouble, ordered the ship about. A few days later she was "hove down" in port, and near the keel was found a hole about two inches in diameter, through which the water had poured. The hole was evidently made from the outside, and extended through sheathing and planking. There were only two animals capable of inflicting such an injury: one was the swordfish, and the other a member of the whale tribe—the narwhal; besides, it seemed hardly credible that either of these animals could have pulled its sword out after striking such a blow.
<!-- image -->The sailors decided that the swordfish was the attacking party, and upon the return of the ship to England the company that owned the Dreadnaught sued the insurance company for damages, and the swordfish made its first appearance in court, represented by Mr. Frank Buckland, the naturalist, Professor Owen, and several others. The case was one of great interest, and for the first time the general public obtained an idea of the force wielded by this swordsman of the ocean. Mr. Buckland, when asked to give an idea of the power of a blow from one of these fishes, replied that he considered it equal to nine or ten blows given with a hammer weighing thirty pounds. His testimony convicted the swordfish and obtained damages for the ship, and ever since the animal has been a marine risk.
The force with which these fishes strike a vessel can hardly be imagined unless the wound is seen; and the occurrence is far more common than is generally supposed. Hardly a month passes but a vessel or boat is struck by a swordfish in some part of the world. It is generally supposed that the fishes mistake vessels for some enemy and rush headlong at them with the terrific speed they are known to possess. Perhaps the most remarkable instance of their power is shown in the attack upon the ship Fortune, of Plymouth, Massachusetts. When she returned from the Pacific she was put in the dry dock, when the stump of a sword was observed projecting from her hull. Examination showed that the fish must have struck the Fortune with the force of a ball from an old-fashioned twenty-four pounder, as the weapon had pierced first the copper sheathing, then an inch-board undersheathing, then a three-inch plank of hard wood, passing into a solid white oak timber a foot in thickness, then through a two and a half inch hard oak ceiling, finally entering the head of a barrel of oil, the tip of the sword touching the fluid, but not allowing a drop to escape. In its struggles the monster had broken the weapon and escaped, probably to die of starvation.
In large vessels the shock of contact is not felt; but in smaller crafts it is very perceptible. When off Cape Hatteras, the smack Morning Star, bound from Mystic to Key West, was struck by a large fish. The men at first supposed they had collided with a floating spar, but almost immediately she began to leak so badly that the captain signaled a vessel to stand by him. The men were unable to gain on the water, and the smack put into Charleston the next day, and was "hove down," when they found that the sword of a swordfish had penetrated planking, timber, and ceiling, so that an entire plank had to be replaced before they could continue. In small vessels the immediate danger is still greater. A dory, struck off Long Island, was sunk; the sword came directly up between the fisherman's feet. Six inches the other way and it would have impaled him; as it was, he had the presence of mind to seize the sword, and though his boat was sinking he held the fish until another boat picked him up. They found him sitting in the water with his coat around the sword. The little sloop Red Hot, owned by the United States Fish Commission, was sunk in New Bedford harbor by one of these pugnacious fishes.
It will be seen that the swordfish is a veritable warrior, and when placed before us, its entire make-up points to speed and activity. It would be selected from among all the fish tribe as a swift privateer, while we might imagine the shark the man-of-war. In general appearance the swordfish resembles the shark, but the lobes of the tail are equal and what a wonderful rudder it is, with sweeping lines of great beauty, forming a crescent when detached! From the upper jaw or nose extends the cartilaginous sword, covered with a rough skin. It is three or more feet long in very large fishes, and, as we have seen, is a terrible weapon. As might be supposed, Xiphias has another use for it besides thrusting at inoffensive sloops and ships. The sword is the weapon of defense, and with it the fish also obtains its food. The swordfish is a giant armed cousin of the mackerel, yet preys upon it and small fry of various kinds. It follows the great schools north in the spring, and, moving along upon their outskirts, dashes in upon them, slashing right and left with its sword, leaving a shower of gleaming parts behind. The swordfish apparently often kills for the mere pleasure of it, only picking up a few of the dismembered parts, then dashing again into the silvery throng in mere wanton sport. So strong is this habit of striking with its sword that when a dead fish is tossed overboard, the swordfish will strike at it, and attempt to cut it before making a meal of it. This swordsman is found in nearly all waters. In American waters it rarely attains a length of over fifteen feet, but off Ceylon and the adjacent waters, monsters twenty-five or thirty feet in length are often seen. Some of them are called sailfishes, from the fact that the dorsal fin attains enormous dimensions, and, when the fish is darting along on the surface, resembles the sail of a boat, though more richly tinted than are the sails of boats in general. These powerful fishes are commonly taken by spears; they often do great damage to native boats, sometimes dashing completely over them, impaling the men or throwing them into the water.