The Animal Story Book Part 31

But all tigers cannot be judged by this tiger.

_HALCYONS AND THEIR BIOGRAPHERS_

Some of the old writers, such as Pliny, Plutarch, Ovid, and Aristotle, tell a pretty story about a bird called the halcyon, which flew sporting over the seas, and in midwinter, when the days were shortest, sat on its nest and brooded over its eggs. And Neptune, who loved these small, gay-plumaged creatures, took pity on them, and kept the waves still during the time of their sitting, so that by-and-bye the days in a man's life that were free from storm and tempest became known as his 'halcyon days,' by which name you will still hear them called.

Now after a careful comparison of the descriptions of the ancient writers, modern naturalists have come to the conclusion that the 'halcyon' of Pliny and the rest was no other than our beautiful kingfisher, which flashes its lovely green and blue along the rivers and cascades both of the Old World and the New. It is now known that the kingfisher is one of the burrowing birds, and that it scoops out in the sand or soft earth of the river banks a pa.s.sage which is often as much as four feet long and grows wider as it recedes from the water. It feeds upon fish, and fish bones may be found in large numbers on the floor of the kingfisher's house, which, either from laziness or a dislike to change, he inhabits for years together. His eyes are wonderfully quick, and he can detect a fish even in turbulent waters from the bough of a tree. Then he makes a rapid dart, and rarely misses his prey. No bird has been the subject of so many superst.i.tions and false stories as the kingfisher, which attracted much attention from its great beauty. Ovid changes the king of Magnesia and his wife Alcyone into kingfishers, Pliny talks of the bird's sweet voice (whereas its note is particularly harsh and ugly), and Plutarch mistakes the sea-urchin's sh.e.l.l for that of the halcyon.

Even the Tartars have a story to tell of this bird, and a.s.sure us that a feather plucked from a kingfisher and then cast into the water will gain the love of every woman it afterwards touches, while the Ostiacs held that the possession of the skin, bill, and claws of the kingfisher will ensure the owner a life made up of 'halcyon days.'

_THE STORY OF A FROG_

PART I

Everyone knows what excitement the approach of the shooting season causes to a certain cla.s.s of people in Paris. One is perpetually meeting some of them on their way back from the ca.n.a.l where they have been 'getting their hands in' by popping at larks and sparrows, dragging a dog after them, and stopping each acquaintance to ask: 'Do you like quails and partridges?' 'Certainly.' 'Ah, well, I'll send you some about the second or third of next month.' 'Many thanks.' 'By the way I hit five sparrows out of eight shots just now. Not bad, was it?'

'First rate indeed!'

Well, towards the end of August, 1830, one of these sportsmen called at No. 109, in the Faubourg St.-Denis, and on being told that Decamps was at home, climbed to the fifth floor, dragging his dog up step by step, and knocking his gun against every corner till he reached the studio of that eminent painter. However, he only found his brother Alexandre, one of those brilliant and original persons whose inherent laziness alone prevented his bringing his great natural gifts to perfection.

He was universally voted a very good fellow, for his easy good nature made him ready to do or give whatever anyone asked. It was not surprising, therefore, that the new comer soon managed to persuade Alexandre that nothing could be more delightful than to attend the opening of the shooting season on the plains of St.-Denis, where, according to general report, there were swarms of quails, clouds of partridges, and troops of hares.

As a result of this visit, Alexandre Decamps ordered a shooting coat from his tailor, a gun from the first gun-maker's in Paris, and a pair of gaiters from an equally celebrated firm; all of which cost him 660 francs, not to mention the price of his licence.

On August 31 Alexandre discovered that one important item was still wanting to his outfit--a dog. He went at once to a man who had supplied various models to his brother Eugene's well-known picture of 'performing dogs,' and asked if he happened to have any sporting dogs.

The man declared he had the very thing, and going to the kennel promptly whipped off the three-cornered hat and little coat worn by a black and white mongrel whom he hastened to present to his customer as a dog of the purest breed. Alexandre hinted that it was not usual for a pointer to have such sharp-pointed ears, but the dealer replied that 'Love' was an English dog, and that it was considered the very best form for English dogs to have pointed ears. As this statement _might_ be true, Alexandre made no further objections, but paid for the dog and took Love home with him.

At five o'clock next morning Alexandre was roused up by his sporting friend, who, scolding him well for not being ready earlier, hurried him off as fast as possible, declaring the whole plain would be shot before they could get there.

It was certainly a curious sight; not a swallow, not even the meanest little sparrow, could rise without a volley of shots after it, and everyone was anxiously on the look-out for any and every sort of bird that could possibly be called game.

Alexandre's friend was soon bitten by the general fever and threw himself energetically amidst the excited crowd, whilst Alexandre strolled along more calmly, dutifully followed by Love. Now everyone knows that the first duty of any sporting dog is to scour the field and _not_ to count the nails in his master's boots. This thought naturally occurred to Alexandre, and he accordingly made a sign to Love and said: 'Seek!'

[Ill.u.s.tration: LOVE'S DISGRACEFUL BEHAVIOUR OUT SHOOTING]

Love promptly stood up on his hind legs and began to dance.

'Dear me,' said Alexandre, as he lowered his gun and contemplated his dog: 'It appears that Love unites the lighter accomplishments to his more serious education. I seem to have made rather a good bargain.'

However, having bought Love to point and not to dance, he waited till the dance was over and repeated in firm tones: 'Seek!'

Love stretched himself out at full length and appeared to be dead.

Alexandre put his gla.s.s into his eye and inspected Love. The intelligent creature was perfectly immovable; not a hair on his body stirred, he might have been dead for twenty-four hours.

'This is all very pretty,' said Alexandre, 'but, my friend, this is not the time for these jokes. We are here to shoot--let us shoot.

Come! get up.'

Love did not stir an inch.

'Wait a bit,' remarked Alexandre, as he picked up a stick from the ground and took a step towards Love, intending to stir him up with it: 'Wait a bit.' But no sooner did Love see the stick in his master's hand than he sprang to his feet and eagerly watched his movements.

Alexandre thinking the dog was at last going to obey, held the stick towards him, and for the third time ordered him to 'seek.'

Love took a run and sprang gracefully over the stick.

Love could do three things to perfection--dance on his hind legs, sham dead, and jump for the king!

Alexandre, however, who did not appreciate the third accomplishment any more than he had done the two others, broke the stick over Love's back, which sent him off howling to his master's friend.

As fate would have it the friend fired at that very moment, and an unfortunate lark fell right into Love's jaws. Love thankfully accepted this windfall, and made but one mouthful of the lark. The infuriated sportsman threw himself on the dog, and seizing him by the throat to force open his jaws, thrust in his hand and drew out--three tail feathers: the bird itself was not to be thought of.

Bestowing a vicious kick on the unhappy Love, he turned on Alexandre, exclaiming: 'Never again do you catch me shooting with you. Your brute of a dog has just devoured a superb quail. Ah! come here if you dare, you rascal!'

Poor Love had not the least wish to go near him. He ran as fast as he could to his master, a sure proof that he preferred blows to kicks.

However, the lark seemed to have whetted Love's appet.i.te: and perceiving creatures of apparently the same kind rise now and then from the ground, he took to scampering about in hopes of some second piece of good luck.

Alexandre had some difficulty in keeping up with him, for Love hunted his game after a fas.h.i.+on of his own, that is to say with his head up and his tail down. This would seem to prove that his sight was better than his scent, but it was particularly objectionable to his master, for he put up the birds before they were within reach, and then ran barking after them. This went on nearly all day.

Towards five o'clock Alexandre had walked about fifteen miles and Love at least fifty; the former was exhausted with calling and the latter with barking, when, all of a sudden Love began to point, so firmly and steadily that he seemed changed to stone.

At this surprising sight Alexandre, forgetful of all his fatigues and disappointments, hurried up, trembling lest Love should break off before he could get within reach. No fear; Love might have been glued to the spot. Alexandre came up to him, noted the direction of his eyes and saw that they were fixed on a tuft of gra.s.s, and that under this gra.s.s there appeared to be some greyish object. Thinking it must be a young bird which had strayed from its covey, he laid down his gun, took his cap in his hand, and cautiously creeping near, like a child about to catch a b.u.t.terfly, he flung the cap over the unknown object, put in his hand and drew out--a frog!

Anyone else would have flung the frog away, but Alexandre philosophically reflected that there must certainly be some great future in store for this, the sole result of his day's sport; so he accordingly put the frog carefully into his game bag and brought it home, where he transferred it to an empty gla.s.s jam jar and poured the contents of his water-bottle on its head.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SOLE RESULT OF HIS DAY'S SPORT]

So much care and trouble for a frog may appear excessive; but Alexandre knew what this particular frog had cost him, and he treated it accordingly.

It had cost him 660 francs, without counting his licence.

PART II

'Ah, ah!' cried Dr. Thierry as he entered the studio next day, 'so you've got a new inmate.' And without paying any attention to Tom's friendly growls or to Jacko's engaging grimaces, he walked straight up to the jar which contained Mademoiselle Camargo--as she had already been named.[10]

[10] A fas.h.i.+onable dancer in Paris.

Mademoiselle Camargo, unaware that Thierry was not only a learned doctor, but also a most intellectual and delightful person, fell to swimming round and round her jar as fast as she could go, which however did not prevent her being seized by one of her hind legs.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MADEMOISELLE CAMARGO BECOMES A BAROMETER]

'Dear me,' said Thierry, as he turned the little creature about, 'a specimen of the _Rana temporaria_. See, there are the two black spots near the eyes which give it the name. Now if you only had a few dozens of this species, I should advise you to have a frica.s.see made of their hind legs, to send for a couple of bottles of good claret, and to ask me to dinner. But as you only happen to have one, we will, with your leave, content ourselves with making a barometer.