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Rev ae thay amen 9b 4g SANE Aap eM cdbe ates ob pe TM Be A Ere tne VAL ash hd ah Wa p fon ere ree) eee et tease ge FE. it, ee eth aed hs Ema a Ea be ree She Per mec oe eee Werte er Poa LR Er) fe ett de eae etepe ee wean Soie ” kota gi ia Weegee ee Un ee ea i ee ee Aiba ew ‘ " Cn ee te Ca ee D : eh | Ce ems a oer s NA NE Se ae PE ten HBP ee Sire Ste eee sere beter ly & hat sss tt Meant, eR 8 A dye he Tyee eda be hate eh i ee tyes " ” eC Ly ergy hw ibe Et Tesene ecu. oe }\ 34 aet 2 HbA Re GE Ly WS idk nde ad . i | QUEER PETS AT MARCY’S a | a mi oo cn ia ith EE ANAT SH AWG i ) : il i i Ye ath ly tN i ut a Shine wT Shs FN ey ne th YON Wy NS Si NU AT au BSS TAS DNV Ph ies BREAKFAST AT MARCY’S. Frontispiece. Copyr IGHT , 1880 By E. P. DUTTON & CO. PRESS OF J. J. LITTLE &CO., NOS. 10 TO 20 ASTOR PLACE, NEW YORK. 7 ree AC FE. THE facts of Natural History in this volume are connected with a thread of story, to please the Little People, who delight in stories that are true. Because of that form, let no one suspect they are in any way fictitious. The facts are carefully gleaned from the best modern naturalists and travelers; and the stories of pets are well au- thenticated. Most of the latter occurred within my own circle of acquaintances, and the others are credited in the text to the proper authorities. To make a delightful story about animals is by no means the aim of the book, but to tell plain facts and true stories of ani- mals in a way to interest the Young Folk for whom it was written. | Its value is greatly enhanced by the illustrations, which, with ‘few exceptions, were drawn for the book, and from the very animals therein described, by Mr. Jas. C. Beard, of whose merits as a delineator of animal life no words of mine are needed. OLIVE THORNE MILE EK: > Corr NTS. CHAPTER | PAGE PE WARCY S ANDTHE PEOPLE WHO LIVED THERE.....- 9 eee OlUNG MING AU PRISON kaya 2 bes ee ee eee len 27] 2, LARS, MONI DY 1509 ee a ice yen e207, 4.—DocTOR DOT AND THE NEW-FASHIONED HENS..... 45 ee ACh INOGUB= IN FBEATHERS.,... 022.5 050700008 56 Oyses LO GIRO ISBT, S ea Aa re ere ee 67 | Pies LAI TONIC 0 Coe AUG ee a 75 OUBER PAMIEY THAT LIVED NEXT DOOR’... ........ SI Ce NEWT THAT sABBY CAUGHT......00.2...5. 87 LO oENERAL HAT LIVED IN. A BOOT.......2:.62<+25% 97 [To == SIE IU Saige So oe ee et ea OS 107 ee ee LOVUE ON WEE PRRATRIES . 0... N Sle a ase 116 Ae MPING WIOUSE....,........<. age ge can 123 4c 1 TSS), IROMUIGIS, Ole. IN C8 aah Ane te aa a een P Ly NOMI ER Ie iMeLe STRANGER. ... 0.0. ...0.. a eda IAI hee eae NP INE MRECAN. fo U0. ho see ok ola ae Sone cares 148 17.—_THE BABY THAT LIVES IN THE SNOW COTTAGE..... 153 Bee a NE NINO OK ANID BOBO ei. a. sud ale he eye ale - 162 7 g CONTENTS. CHAPTER » PAGE 19o.—A SAILOR WITH: WINGS..2. 24)... eo uel a eee ee 173 20:=- AFTER BIS DINNER 2) Sn) hae 179 21.—ALWAYS IN TLROUBLE 2.503.350. ee 188 (oo--Tue Little HerMir. o.oo 195 22. A DISTINGUISHED JAPANESE GUEST". 95-2) ‘a ae 199 241 HE | BABY PEAd?S (BURIED! IN (SAIN oe aaa ae 207 25: IFE IN “A LAGE HIOUSE! ) 0) 4 rn 218 20. MOPSA, THE PIFTH CAT). 003.0 ee 233). 27 -2A\N , UGLY BABYS. OSes 244 28 Two. FUNNY: RELEOWS (20 2 i.e ae eee 5) 29.—WHAT THEY SAW IN THE PARK (1232 42) aS 258 30,— WITH A LONG NOSE. Jie nc. 2 ee 264 21-—-PUSSY S° WILD COUSINS )s... 2 4 ee 275 20) A) MERMAID! ic Jit, e's a 290 23:-=A STRANGE STORY OF A HORSE .22:))..55. 0 eee 297 34.—THE AIR CASTLE AND THE FAMILY THAT LIVED IN DGD iae eC tenets Ah eee A r 4 na ve ang 8 CGR ee 302 35. PLAVY-HOUSE, BUIMDERS. | (1) )0090)) 2 eee «ye Sale! 36.—THE CURIOUS FELLOW THAT .CAME IN A BOX..... 315 QUEER PETS AT MARCY’S. Chae fek FIRST. MARCY’S AND THE PEOPLE WHO LIVED THERE. I NEVER knew a house that was so full of animal pets as Marcy’s. One needed to have his eyes open, to avoid stepping on a tame bird, or stumbling over a sleepy cat, and timid ladies were rather shy of it, keeping a sharp eye on dark cor- ners and under sofas, for any strange creature that might rush © out at them. The house stood in the edge of a pleasant village near New York, and I call it Marcy’s, because Marcy—or Marcia, to give her full name—was the elder of the two children, and the chief keeper of the family menagerie, about which this book is written. Ralph was perhaps as fond of pets as she, but he was apt to get “tired” and to “forget,” neither of which she ever did, so 9 1O OCBER PETS AT) MARCY?S, long as a bird needed seed, or a kitten wanted milk’ 9 —aWe never refused to sit up all night with a sick dog, and many a time was not able to sleep, because the affectionate cat insisted on bringing her whole family of kittens on to her bed, or some grateful, but lonely, four-footed friend would not rest easy ext cept in her arms. Many things the family suffered from their pets. Cats slept on the white counterpanes, and birds spattered the carpets from their baths; one dog insisted on sleeping between sheets, and a parrot nibbled the picture-frames; a canary picked holes in the plastering, and a kitten tore every newspaper to bits; foxes enawed the shoes and rubbers, and the squirrel made holes in the carpets. The house-mother was amused and annoyed by turns, and Patty, the cook, scolded roundly. The father only laughed, and Uncle Karl Unclear This best of uncles was Marcy’s great help and comfort. His but wait! a whole new paragraph must go to home was with them, and it was he who brought the queer pets, made pictures, and told the children about them. He always knew what to feed the strangers, and how to treat them when ill. In fact, without him, Marcy's would never havew@eeem known as a home for pets, and you would never have had a book about it. He had one habit that brought him many a curiosity. He visited every ship from strange countries that came into the city, to see what animals the sailors had to sell. On the day my story begins, he brought home from one of these visits two new pets, one of which he gave to each of the children. Ralph’s gift was a parrot, which had come in a ship from Maw WS (ON THE, CLOTHES-LINE. EE Mexico, having sailed around Cape Horn, a good five months’ voyage, and Marcy’s was a Florida Chamelion. Ralph named his Parrot Keeta, or rather, he named himself Parakeeta, and his master merely shortened the name; and it was not long before he distinguished himself as a bird of great perseverance and intelligence. When he set out to do any- thing, he meant to do it, and it took a great deal to discourage him. ? One thing he had made up his mind to do, was to cross the yard on the clothes-line. He could climb a rope better than any sailor that ever lived; he had learned that on board the ship, where he would go up “hand over hand,” as sailors say, using his bill as a third hand, to any height he chose. Now, why should not so accomplished a climber be able to walk a clothes-line? Keeta decided that he could, and there- upon he began. He started out bravely, walking, of course, right side up, like a professional rope-walker. When he had gone a few feet the rope basely failed him, and turned over. Keeta suddenly found himself head down, holding on for dear life. He was not discouraged, however. He made the most frantic efforts to get up; but no sooner would he succeed in right- ‘ing himself than over it would go again. Again and again he tried it, getting quite ruffled up, and really furious about it, while the children looked on and laughed till the bird began to be tired, and then Ralph held out a finger to him, which he readily accepted, and so reached a steadier perch. As long as he lived he never really gave it up, and every little while he would have a serious time with that clothes-line. His greatest passion was to throw things down, like a naughty 12 OCR TE RS WAT JIATOVAS: child, apparently to hear the noise, or to see what happened, for he would lean over and look with interest at the fate of the object thrown. When he chanced to get on the kitchen table or shelf, he would march along, and coolly push everything he could move over the edge, till Patty drove him out eneeme room in a rage. Keeta’s favorite place for playing pranks was in Ralph’s shop. Ralph was fond of tools, and had quite a collection in an unused room down-stairs. His father had a carpenter's bench put in, and Ralph spent many happy hours, at work or play, in that part of the house. Of course Keeta was often with him, and seemed to be as fond of the shop as Ralph himself, though not for the same reason. He would walk solemnly along the bench, picking up every nail or tool that he could lift, and dropping it to the floor, cocking his knowing head on one side to see where it went. The chalk-line was his special delight. Yard after yard he would throw over, watching the tangle it made on the floor, and now and then giving a quiet chuckle of delight at the mis- chief he had done. Ralph, who had it to wind up again, was not so well pleased with this trick, and he thought he would teach Master Keeta a lesson. So one day he wound the line in a coil and tied it, leaving a long piece hanging from the other end of the bench. The next time the Parrot came in, Ralph went to work at the farther end of the bench, as though he did not see him, and Keeta at once spied the tempting coil of cord. Slowly and cautiously he drew near it, keeping an eye on his master all the time. Diem OMILTAS: A PRIGHT: 13 Ralph, however, seemed absorbed in his work, and very quietly Mr. Keeta crept up to the spot, and leaned over to seize it. At that instant Ralph gave a sly jerk on the loose end of the coil, and the Parrot, astounded to see life in what he thought was a dead rope, sprang two feet into the air, with a squawk of dismay. He was suspicious, however, that Ralph had something. to do with it, for he was well acquainted with ropes, and never Fomeone, jump pefore. So he turned one eye on his young master, who seemed more busy than ever with his work. The Parrot then made up his mind that he had been mistaken, | and once more he turned towards the rope. Again he crept up in the most wary manner, and again it sprang from under his weny claw, making him repeat his leap and cry.. He tried it several times, till Ralph had to indulge in a good laugh; but he was still not convinced that he could not take hold of the line. fee taworite perch of the Parrot’'s was on the edge of an old refrigerator that stood in a corner of the shop. There he could watch Ralph at his work or play, and also keep an eye on the street, through a window near by. Now his wings were clipped, of course, and sometimes in getting off this high place, poor Keeta would fall down behind the box, where he could not get out. Then would arise the most dreadful shrieks of “Ralph! Ralph! Parakeeta! Parakeeta!” till Ralph would come to his aid, letting down a rope, which the Parrot would seize, and Elim out ile was a ereat talker, chatting to himself for ' . hours; but his language was Spanish, and excepting the name Ralph, he never spoke a word of English. What killed him they never knew; but one morning he was 14 QUIET TELLS (AT MARE VS: found dead on the floor, and his pretty white bones joined the ‘collection yinthe Wen: Parrots are very amusing pets, and have been kept as such almost as far back as history goes. The early Romans kept them in cages of ivory, silver, and shell, and hired tutors to teach them to say Cesar. When America was discovered, they were found as pets in the huts of the natives. They are not petted, however, in the country where they abound. They are as full of mischief when wild as they are when tame, and they destroy great quantities of fruit and grain —much more than they can possibly eat, though they go in enormous flocks, and have very good appetites of their own. They are wary fellows, even before they have learned by sad experience how much they need to fear man. When a flock alights, in an orchard or wheat-field, they keep the most per- fect silence; they know they are stealing. But if the) fapmer comes near, and the watchers they always have, announce it by a scream, they all rise in the air with fearful shrieks. The funniest thing about wild parrots is the way they live. They always have some spot for a bedroom. On the coast of Africa, as Du Chaillu tells us, there is a place of this sort called Parrot Island. In other places it will be in a bamboo thicket or some deep woods, generally where there are many hollow trees. There they come every night, beginning to arrive at about four o'clock in the afternoon, and flying in vast flocks, so many and so fast that even the flocks cannot be counted. All are chattering and screaming, and making such a noise that they even drown the sounds in a noisy market. The fearful din is kept up for a long time. Evidently they are telling the news of the day, where they have been, what they a PRESPARKOTS’ BEDROOM. 15 have seen, where the wheat is ripe, and whose orchard has the most fruit. One by one they retire for the night, into hollow trees, where they will crowd till there’s not room for another claw. Early in the morning, before people want to wake up, the whole parrot city is awake, making plans for the day; while one after another the flocks will go off in every direction, to eat and enjoy themselves all day. About noon they seek some water where they may bathe, getting soaking wet in the operation, and hiding. during the hottest hours in the deepest shade they can find. Noisy as they always are, they are not so careless as to let a stranger come near. They are as curious as monkeys, and the moment a person approaches the woods where they are, every sound is stopped as if by magic, not a whisper to be heard, and every parrot draws closer to the trunk of the tree, to be hidden. If the stranger shoots, they all fly with screams. All these sociable and lively times cease when nesting time comes, and each pair finds, or makes for itself, a cozy home ina hollow tree. There the mother-bird sits on her two round white eggs, while the father feeds her, till the ugly little blind babies come out, and then she joins him in hunting food for the hungry little fellows. They are not able to eat hard food, so it is softened in the crop of the parent, and the young ones are fed at regular hours, twice a day, at eleven, and at five o’clock. The parents are attentive and loving, and in eight or ten days the babies have their eyes open, and soon are able to fly about and help them- selves. Then the families unite in flocks once more, and gay life begins in the parrot world. 16 OUPERVEEES Al MARCY Ss: Parrots, when tame, learn to eat and drink whatever people do, even coffee and tea and wine. They not only learn to talk everything, but they really seem to know what it means, and in fact they are extremely wise birds. One that I read of, put out a fire started by a cigar end carelessly thrown down, by turning over his drinking cup, and spilling the water on the fire. One that Mr. Wood tells about, got away after being taught to speak, in Brazil, and was afterwards seen in the woods teach- ing a crowd of his wild relations to speak Portuguese. He would say a short sentence, and they would all say it after him; then he would give them another, which they would repeat as before. Then he would vary the lesson by dancing, and rolling his head, and at once the whole crowd would fall to dancing and rolling their heads. It was the funniest sight you can imagine. Perhaps, with such a school teacher, the Brazilian parrots may all learn to talk Por- tuguese—who knows? Another story that Wood tells is of a parrot who liked to be dressed in a doll’s cloak and hat. He would strut around and admire himself, go to sleep to order, aiid in many ways show his delight. But when Dolly was dressed in the clothes herself, Polly was very angry; he would untie the strings, and jerk them off of her, as if she had been a thief. However, Dolly didn’t care, so there was no harm done. The parrot’s greatest enemy, wild or tame, is a monkey, be- cause of an insane desire in every monkey’s mischievous head to pull out the beautiful tail feathers of the bird. Whenever they meet, the naughty monkey at once pounces on the feath- ers, and as he is the stronger, poor Poll has a sad time. Parrots are affectionate to each other. If one is shot, out of Api we A PAMILY OF SLAVES, 17 a flock, the rest will not leave him, but will hover around and show their distress, so faithfully, that the whole flock may be shot, one after another. Not one will fly away. They nestle lovingly together in the trees, scratch each other’s head and neck, and sometimes sleep with their heads under a neighbor’s feathers. Living in New York at this moment is a bird of the par- rot family who has a strange story, which his master has written for a daily paper. I was about to say that he lives with a family, but it would be more correct to say that the family live with him, for if ever one small green bird ruled a house- hold, and owned a whole family of human slaves, this is the bird. He is a paroquet, six or seven inches long, and his name priser Pick, The way he came to adopt the family was this: He was one day flying about in the air of his native Florida, with a flock of his friends, screaming and having a fine noisy time, when a hunter came along, and—as hunters usually do—be- gan to shoot. Ome, tell dead, and the rest came about him, for the parrot family, as I told you, never desert a friend in trouble. One after another fell before that terrible gun, till only two were left, and these were found clinging to the willows, one fatally wounded, but the other only hurt by the breaking of a wing feather. This is not a pleasant part of the story to any but ahunter. Let us hurry over it. The unhurt bird was a little fellow, dressed in beautiful satiny dark green, with gold-colored cap on his head, and a sharp temper of his own. He had not yet fixed his heart 2 Fh 18 ODT BETS AT MATIC YS. upon the hunter, and he fought and screamed when he was smothered in a handkerchief, and carried off to a house. The captive was a bird of ideas, and when he reached the porch of the hotel, he had evidently made up his mind to submit to his fate, and see what would come of it. He step- ped from his bonds with the most perfect calmness, picked up a straw and began to play with it, ran after a beetle, and in other ways made himself entirely at home. He was not afraid of anybody. He decided to stay, and he was at once named Pick. What to eat was the first thing to be thought of, for the bird was not yet used to human food. Acorns were the only thing he seemed to like, and of course his devoted friend, the -man who had shot him, tramped miles through the woods to get them. One day Pick found a pine cone and ate the seeds, and after that he tried experiments. First he ate nutswalnuee pecan nuts, peanuts, and others, and at last he hit upon his choice of food, which he never changed, though before long he ate everything. His choice was almonds, and almonds are kept in convenient places to this day. He never tried to get away. Before his wing was well, he had lost all desire to do so, and he never was tamed. His master, or more properly his friend, became his idol, and a more adoring soul never lived than this small green bird. He learned to eat like anybody, came to the table, dipped into anything he chose, devoured onions, bacon, eggs, honey, preserves, and cheese. He drank tea and coffee hot, and lemon- ade cold. In fact, he did as nearly what his friend did as a small bird could, and attached himself to him in every way. | TCE MNVAIN TS RO SIEEP IN A BED: 19 When he went out in a boat, Pick would climb to the top of the little mast, and enjoy the fishing in the liveliest and most excited way. His wing got well, and he could fly, and then he would go off on short excursions to the groves; but never out of hearing, and he always came when called. Perhaps the greatest trouble at first was to find a comfortable sleeping place, and he never really suited himself till he shared the bed of his friend. He would creep under the blankets, and sleep close to his idol. Pick was not gentle in his manners; he was a born tyrant. When he wanted his head scratched—which he often did—he would walk up to somebody and lower his head in a way that. said as plainly as words could do, “ Scratch my head.” One day he invited a small dog to do this service for him... The dog of course paid no attention to the demand, and, after one or two sharp orders, Pick rushed at him, gave him a severe bite through the paw, then flew out of the dog’s reach, and watched his cries with delight. Pick had one attack of homesickness—it was the last. His wing had been well for weeks, and one evening he flew away to the woods. He had tried human society for three months, and now he apparently longed for the wild, free life of his youth. He was gone six days; but he did not find the old life, for his imemes wererall dead, and a tlock of these birds will not let a stranger come among them. One evening he came flying back, and alighted on the shoulder of his friend, thin, worn, and rum- pled, looking very little like the trim, well-fed little fellow that flew away. ie twas nearly Stared, too, and, after eating his fll of al mounds, he went to bed under the bolster, and slept till ten 20 OOBERIPETS: ALT MARCY :S. o'clock the next morning. That day he gave to making himself nice once more. He bathed twice, and spent hours cleaning and arranging his feathers. After that time, Pick always insisted on a morning bath, and the wash-bowl was his chosen tub. He would walk up and de- mand his bath, and if there was no water, he would seat himself in the pitcher, and scream till some was brought. After all, little Pickie, though he looked so wise and grave, was but a baby, and was fond of toys. Anything bright, like a silver thimble, a button, or a bit of tin, he at once pounced upon and carried off to play with. Finally, a basket was filled with little things he fancied, and set apart for him. He knew this basket, and knew that it was his, as well as any child could. He never allowed a stranger to touch it, and he amused himself by the hour, turning over the things and throwing them on to the floor. The favorite plaything was a steel watch-chain, which he would wind around his legs, or lie flat on his back and roll over and over on the floor to play with. He was extremely curious, anxious to go through every door, and into every drawer or trunk that was opened. Whatever was going on, sewing, writing, or crochet, Pick had a hand in the business, and was always ready to express his opinion and give his help. When the time drew near for Pick’s family to go back to their home in New York, they began to prepare him for the journey by bringing ina cage. It was a strong affair of wire, and the bird at once looked on it with suspicion, and could not be coaxed to go near it. If he was put into it after dark, he would scream and work at the fastenings till he opened the door, or let down the bottom and got out. FACIE SPLS UP HOOSE-KEEPING. 21 It was three weeks before he would stay an instant in the cage, if he could help it, and it was months before he was contented to be left there. He would scream loud enough to alarm the household, and his voice was anything but pleasant. _ By the patient work of his friend, who would lie on the floor and talk to Pick by the hour, he was at last brought to submit more quietly. He would cling to the wires while his friend wrapped bird, cage, and all in a blanket, and then sat down to play him to sleep with a guitar, of which he was very fond. Pick would listen and chirp, and at last go to sleep, and his tired— but always devoted—slave would slip out of the room. Pick came to New York with his friends early the next spring. The sights and sounds of the great city amazed him. He would sit on the window-sill for hours, and watch the people, and listen to the sounds about him. He was no more shut up in a cage, but flew about the house as he chose. Sand-paper was tacked to the wall, on which to sharpen his bill, and boxes of almonds were placed here and there in convenient places, and Master Pick set up housekeep- ing. The next winter they all went back to Florida, and the bird | knew the place as well as the man. He was not confined at all, and he visited his old haunts with delight, going out gun- ning with his friend, and calmly sitting on the gun while it was fired. | " He made no attempt to go back to the woods; but one day two wounded paroquets were brought to the house. Pick was delighted, and at once welcomed them like a prince. He put the best of everything before them, and tried in every way to make them his friends. LADY OTE ET ELS WA Ti VBALE GVA. The strangers were wrapped up in each other, and would pay no attention to Pick. He set food before them, which they did not eat; he offered to plume them, and in every way showed his desire to be hospitable and polite. But they would not look at him nor accept any civility, and at last poor Pick got angry. He bristled up and flew at them. He pulledjong their feathers and pecked their heads, screaming at them like an angry child. At this point the strangers were taken away, and Pick was once more alone. But it was a month before he became his old, careless, cheerful self again. His feelings had been deeply hurt, and never from that day did he ever pay the least attention to any bird. | Pick had adventures in the city. Three times he coteumon the house and was lost. The first time he was found in a bird store, having been caught by street boys and sold. Another time he was found on the shoulder of a man in a tenement- house, and the third time, after being chased and stoned by boys, he came back himself. He had several narrow escapes from death by hawks and cats, by closing doors and dumb-waiters. But the worst was death by poison. A meerschaum pipe had left on the mantel a little stain of nicotine, and in his curiosity Pick put his droll little thick tongue to it. In an instant he fell over as if dead. There was great commotion in the house, and a messenger was sent to Pick’s friend, who came in hot haste to his aid. Books were hurriedly searched, and finding that tea was an antidote, hot tea was forced into his mouth. He got well; but he never touched a yellow stain again. Pick has spent five years with his friend, in the pleasant THING LAI COOK, 23 country in the summer, and in Florida or New York in the winter, and he still has his home in New York, in a house care- fully arranged for his comfort. Every door and window is protected with wire or springs, for his safety. Not because he wants to get away, but he gets lost in the city. No cat is allowed to show her head inside the door, and no cook can stay an hour in the kitchen, unless she can cheerfully accept Master Pick’s help in everything she does. He insists on walking over the kitchen table, inspecting her work, tasting and pulling over everything she handles. If she objects, he will scream, and that brings the mistress from above, as quickly as if it were the cry of a baby. There’s no use denying it, Pickie rules that house from attic to cellar. The devouring passion of the bird’s whole life is love of his one best friend; from the first he has been his idol. While he is in the house Pick never leaves him, but sits on his shoulder rubbing against his face, creeps into his pockets or his bosom, or performs antics for his amusement, such as walking lame, flut- tering his wings, bowing and twisting his body, and other things, always insisting on his notice. , At five o’clock in the morning he wakes and rattles the bars of his sleeping cage, till the door is opened and he can get to his friend in the bed, when he creeps close to him, or under the pillow, and is happy. He takes his meals with him, trying every dish on the table, and determined to like everything his idol eats. He will obey him too. If told not to touch a certain dish, Pick will leave it ; and when informed that he may chip the frame of a certain picture, he will exercise his strong bill on that one, and no other. 24. CORBA AMITS AT WAie CVS. He likes to help in the toilet of his friend, bringing: him a neck-tie, and trying to lift a hair-brush. The mirror is his de- light; he passes hours beiore it, pluming himself, and seeming to know that it is not another bird, but himself, that he sees. When his friend goes away in the morning, he screams his good-by, and then goes to the kitchen to spend the time. In that room, in a cage, lives a parrot big enough to eat Pick, who mocks and calls him half the time. ‘‘ Here, Pick!" Here, Pick-a-wick! ~.-it- will .call, “ Getedemru: Pick!” and it will mimic every word of the mistress, in almost exactly -her, tone. |.., But: Pick is: not’ deceived: for a inemems and'‘he never. deigns to-netice it... He takes his nap serenely on a shelf near the range, helps the cook, not two feet from the cage, but the saucy Parrot who lives there he never sees.. 3 He likes to spend the day in the kitchen; but when it grows dark, and home-coming time arrives, he gets upstairs, sometimes through an open door, and sometimes by means of the dumb- waiter, or by screaming at a door till it is opened for him. Up- stairs he sits down to watch for his friend, screaming to him the moment the outside door opens. If he is late, and Pick is abed, where he goes at nine, he hears the click of the key in the lock, and chirps a sleepy welcome. In fact, he is a civilized bird, and though he does not speak, he looks wise enough to do so, and one can't help feeling that | he could if he would. An interesting member of the parrot family is the cockatoo, and Lady Barker, writing from Australia, tells about a very wise bird of this kind who lived at a hotel in Melbourne. She says he would pretend to have a violent toothache, nursing the beak with his claw, as you see in the picture, and rocking back and PTE VCOCKATOO’S TOOTHACHE. ie) rt forth as if in the greatest agony, answering all offers of help and all presents of toothache drops with, Oh, it ain’t a bit of use!” 17? “Qn, IT AIN'T-A BIT OF USE Finally, he would come to the edge of the cage and croak out—the naughty bird !—“ Give us a drop of whiskey; do/” He would also pretend to sew, holding a bit of stuff under one claw on the perch, and pretending to use the needle with 26 QUEER PETS AT MARCY’'S. the other, getting into trouble with the thread, and at last singing a song in praise of sewing-machines. Another one was the pet of a family, and so fond of pulling flowers to pieces, that he was named after a celebrated botanist. He was a very sociable, good-natured fellow, and insisted on having a hand in everything that went on, even croquet, when he would follow his mistress about, and amuse himself by climb- ing her mallet. His funniest trick was to imitate the cry of a hawk, and the time he chose to do it was when his mistress was feeding her poultry. => S—_—_ = == = SS=S= a : = See S=== ae = == = se = ae Mma : ms SS = fs i AN wee ——<$<$<$—o———— $$$ $$$ A MERMAID OUT OF WATER. It has no neck to tell where the head began, no ears except two slits, so small they could hardly be seen, and almost no eyes, or, at any rate, eyes so small and far back in the wrinkles that there 292 OO RETIRES AT MAR CVS. might about as well be none. Besides this, its skin looked like a prickly pear, with here and there a hair sticking out, and its nos- trils were shut up by valves when not needed for breathing. Above all, it looked about as bright as a lump of dough. | Marcy was turning away to look at something else, when Uncle Karl began to tell her about it, and she soon grew quite interested, though it was very hard for her to believe that this, and a near relative, are really the creatures which sailors have clothed in such poetical forms, and called Women of the Sea. What led to this strange notion was the habit these creatures have, of standing up—you may call it—in the water, with the upper part in the air, and the flippers crossed on the breast, or the young one clasped in the arms. Seen in dim light, across the tossing waves, by sailors ready to believe any wonder they think they see, it is, after all, not so very strange. But one doesn’t look like a charming object in the cold light of day, shut up in a wooden tank, does it? | The name of this animal is the Manatee, from Manus, a hand, and though he lives in the water, he is really an animal and not a fish. He breathes with lungs, and not with gills like a fish, and he is warm-blooded, while fishes are cold-blooded. He looks clumsy, and so he may be in a box without water, but in his native element he is as lively as any fish. His broad flat tail and his fins, which are really hands and arms covered with skin, help him along finely. You may not think those awkward-looking fins are much like hands, but the fingers are easily felt through the skin, and you — can see for yourself that he has five nails, like finger-nails, on each one. Perhaps you think with Marcy that he’s a stupid-looking AFFECTIONATE FAMILIES. 293 object, but I can assure you he’s not half so stupid as he looks, and he has lovely traits of character. He’s an extremely social, good-tempered fellow, and tender-hearted also, for when caught he never attempts to bite, but sheds tears at being taken from his friends—so says Mr. Gosse. Manatees collect in parties and go about together, never quar- reling like many animals, but always gentle and playful with each other. Best of all, he is affectionate, and if one of a party is hurt all the rest come to his aid. _ Nearly every mother, from the elephant down to the smallest insect, is tender of her little ones, and will fight for them till she is herself killed, but these animals are just as fond of each other. The fathers protect the mothers, and the mothers pro- tect the babies. In fact they never desert each other in the greatest danger. In their parties the fathers go ahead, the mothers behind, and the young ones in the middle. They are hunted for their flesh, which is considered delicious, and for their skin, which makes strong leather; and when a harpoon is thrown into one, all the rest crowd around and try to pull it out or bite it off. Not one thinks of taking care of himself, nor of fighting the hunter; so the fisherman—if he may be called so—can secure as many as he chooses, often the whole troop. This creature, who you see is interesting after all, in spite of his stupid looks and his clumsy ways, lives on the sea-shore, in a bay, or at the mouth of a river in a tropical country, generally in South American waters, and he sometimes takes journeys up the rivers a long way from the sea. He is from ten to fifteen feet long, and perhaps longer. The Manatee has another name—Sea-Cow—and he feeds on 2904 COULTER PPT SIAT MARCY’ S. grass and plants. Not only on those growing under water, but itis said he comes partly out of the water to get certain land plants. The gentle creature is easily tamed. In an old magazine, pub- lished more than a hundred years ago, there is an account of a tame Manatee kept by the governor of Nicaragua, in a lake on his estate. This good-natured creature would not only come to dinner when he was called, crawling out of the water and up to the house, but he would allow people to ride on his back. As many as ten people, the old story says, would often mount him, and ride safely across the lake. ' More lately, Manatees have often been kept as pets. One liv- ing in a lake belonging to one of the Caciques of Hispaniola, answered to its name of Matto, and was full of play as a mon. key, not only frolicking with its own kind, but with the young Indians. A Manatee kept in the Public Gardens of Rio, became attached to a white swan, and would follow it all around the pond. The swan, I fear, did not appreciate this warm affection, for it took no notice, and was said “not to care.” This friendly Manatee would come to the shore and take grass from the hands of visit- ors. One of these creatures was sent from Demarara to the London Zoological Gardens. She was young, and only about seven feet long. She traveled in a tank hung so as to swing with the motion of the vessel, and not get hurt against the sides. She was fond of lettuce, and some vegetables cut in slices. A few years ago a Manatee was captured in the Orinoko River, and sent to the Philadelphia Gardens. This one was put into a fine glass tank, which was kept perfectly clean and nice. They hoped to make her so contented that she would live a long time; WHAT CAN SHE EAT? 295 but she did not enjoy a glass house, though she soon learned not to be frightened when the water was drawn off for house-clean- ing and changing the water. Her taste was for mud, and she was never so lively as when heavy rains discolored the water. The question of what to eat was a troublesome one, for she had her notions. In vain they offered her biscuits, cabbages, and at last every vegetable in the markets. She would not 4 Wal / AAT hy. \ ' e KA \ — a = a ay A PRETTY FACE. touch one. Finally, they had a load of seaweeds and water- plants brought, and she tumbled them over till she found one she could eat. That matter was settled, they thought, and orders were given for a supply of this particular plant. All went well for a month, when the supply failed; not one more was to be found in the Schuylkill or the Delaware. She had exterminated the plant. Then Madam Manatee had to eat something else, and they would bring loads of weeds and plants to her. She would turn aad 296 OUEER PETS*AT MARCY’ S. them over, and select one and another that she would conde- scend to eat. To give her a chance to come out of water, if she wished, a shelf was arranged, but she didn’t seem to care for it, and never showed the least desire to try it. Everything was done that was possible to make her contented, but she was never happy, and before long she died. While Uncle Karl drew the side view of the Manatee, Ralph - stole around the other side of the tank and looked him square in the face. A funny-looking fellow he was, too, so funny that he had his picture taken from that point also, and here it is on the other page. Pretty face, hasn’t her | THE WORK HE HAD DONE. 507 Geet R THEIR T Y-TAITRD. A SFRANGE STORY OF A HORSE. A BOOK about animals would hardly be complete without something regarding one of the most noble, as well as the most common, animals we have—a Horse. The Horse has been so long used to living with men, like the cat and the dog, that we can hardly think of them as ever hav- ing been wild, and stories of their intelligence and their almost human actions are to be read in every newspaper. There is one story of a Horse, however, somewhat different from these, and so odd that I’m afraid you ll think I made it io but idid not. Every word is'true; and since he had been aeicaryper, tnoueh not, to tell the truth, at Marcy’s, 1 think his story may go in here, and I’m sure you'll be as much inter- ested in it as were’the children when it was told to them. The unfortunate hero of the story belonged to a circus, had been a great pet, and had tramped the country over from one end to the other, galloped around ina stupid ring, and learned various tricks to amuse you boys. No one could say he did not honestly earn his living. But at last he met with an accident. And when he arrived in Chicago, in 1850, his master found that he could no longer take his part in the performances; and, of course, he was a bur- den to a traveling circus. His owner, though a showman, was 298 QUEER PELS AT MAK CY 7S: kind-hearted, and attached to the unfortunate fellow, and he couldn’t bear to turn him out to starve, nor did he like to kill him. In this emergency a gentleman living in Chicago, a physi- cian and a wealthy man, knowing that he was a valuable animal, and thinking that he could cure him of his hurt and make him useful, offered to take him, and promised to see that he never came to want. Upon these terms the owner gladly left him, and took his circus to parts unknown. Well, the Doctor found himself disappointed about curing the hurt, and before long it became evident that he would never more be able to work. So he gave him a warm corner of his barn, and made him comfortable the rest of his days—do you suppose? By nomeans. He turned him out to starve. Perhaps that is a harsh way to put it. I don’t suppose he really said any such cruel thing to himself. He probably thought, “The old Horse will never be of any use to me, and I don’t want to buy oats and hay. for him, so I'll let him run and pick up his own living.” But the fact was, it was late in the fall, the grass was dead on the prairies, and there was no living to pick up. To be sure, he had now and then a bite out of a load of hay in the street, or a nibble out of the back of a farmer’s wagon, and sometimes _ perhaps a potato or a turnip from a barrel in front of a grocer’s shop; but with all his efforts he found barely enough to keep the breath of life in him, and not enough to keep him from looking half dead, and wholly miserable. He grew thin, his ribs stuck out, and he looked more like the frame of a horse wandering about the streets, than he did like the plump fellow he was when his master left him. At that time Chicago was not so big as it is now, and after a THE TOILET. 299 while people began to notice the wretched wanderer and to in- quire about him; and before long everybody knew the story, and felt indignant at his fate. At last two young men, who wanted to shame the hard-hearted Doctor, and put the old Horse out of his misery at the same time, concocted a plan for a dona- tion party. The first thing they did was to put an anonymous notice in _the two daily city papers (for which the publishers took no pay, by the way), setting forth the sorrows of the poor old Horse, his life of hard work, and his unhappy fate, and calling on every one who had a heart to pity a suffering fellow-creature to bring to the City Hall Square, on a certain day named, anything in the way of horse provisions that he felt able to contribute, that the unfortunate pauper might end his days in peace and comfort, and their eyes no more be vexed by his wandering chost. : Then somebody wrote a poem on’ the text, “Why should Ewe poo despise fhe rich?’ And some one else printed: it neatly on small sheets of paper, ready to sell on the great day. When that day arrived the wretched straggler was captured, and an unpromising-looking creature he was. He was one of those bay and white-spotted Horses so often seen in a circus, and had been the owner of a beautiful flowing mane and long sweeping tail. But now the dust of the street—where he slept —clung to his rough skin, bits of straw and dead leaves orna- mented his tangled mane, and his half-switched-out tail hung limp and ugly. His captors, nothing daunted, procured castile soap and soft water, and washed and combed and thoroughly cleaned him, 300. QUEER. PETSYAL MARGCY'S. decorating his mane with ribbons, and covering his lean sides with a comfortable blanket. In the meantime all the available music of the city had come together. There were no regular bands, but every one who had an instrument (wind or stringed) and could play it, came out and joined the merry party. When all was ready the procession started. First came the motley musicians, playing with a good heart, if not with much skill; next the gaunt hero, bearing on his back the orator of the day (one of the two young men); lastly a miscellaneous party of citizens. They paraded through the principal streets to the City Hall. Square, being careful to pass the eruelyDec tor’s house. A touching speech was made, appealing to the charitable in the crowd. Copies of the poem were sold to who- ever would buy, and many dimes and some dollars were drawn out of pockets and purses, while loads of hay, bags: of oats and corn, and barrels of bran piled up in the yard. When the whole thing was over, and the two originators of the performance counted up gains, it was found that there was money enough to hire a barn, and a man to take care of him all winter, and food enough to keep a hundred horses till summer should cover the prairies with grass again. A barn was pro- cured, the provisions removed, a man hired for the work, and the old circus Horse was duly installed in his comfortable home that very night. And how do you suppose the Doctor felt all this time? I can imagine his shame when he saw the odd procession from behind his blinds. But the truth is, he never expressed his feelings (so far as I can discover); and therefore history is silent on that point. FHS: MYSTERIOUS FATE. 301 But a strange thing happened before the people finished talking about it. One dark night the old Horse disappeared, and it is supposed (though it is only a guess), that the Doctor enticed him away, and put an end to all his troubles by a bullet through his brain. At any rate, he was never seen again. 302 QUEER GETS (AL MAR CYS, CHARTER “tintnty-POUR itt. THE AIR CASTLE, AND THE FAMILY THAT LIVED IN IT. BEFORE the time of the visit to the Park, something happened next door to Marcy’s that resulted in giving her a new pet. To tell the whole story I must go back a little. About the first of May of that spring, a new family came to live in the neighborhood. They were very gay and lively, fine singers and great travelers, spending their winters in the South, and returning to the North when it became too warm for com- fort. The family was small, in fact it was a bridal couple, and they had as much trouble as young housekeepers generally have, to settle upon a suitable home. Not that questions of rent, street cars, markets, and such things entered into account. The Oriole family never rented, they a/ways built, and they kept their own private conveyance, while going to market was only fun to them. An attractive place to build was the great thing to find, and "after much earnest talk and many trips about the town, the place was selected—a beautiful crotch in a branch of a tree near a garden. As soon as the spot was decided upon, building began. No masons and carpenters and stone-cutters made clumsy botchwork 303 BA eIVISION OF “LABOR. Mr. Oriole himself collected the materials, while Madam arranged them and built the house. Bar from it. of this house. MN will OY. : 4, Se, ‘ “yy Le SS Soy DISCUSSING THE NEW HOUSE. 304 QUEER REALS AT MARCY AS. Beautiful things the busy young fellow brought to decorate their swinging castle in the air; stems of flax and other vege- table fibers; long strings which he found dangling from the tele- graph wires, left by runaway kites shipwrecked there; pieces of fish-line with rusty hook still on; long horse-hairs, and many other nice things. All about the neighborhood he sought carefully for suitable and pretty objects, and one day he brought a strange and curi- ous thing, such as perhaps no Oriole had ever been able to find before. It was long, and delicate, and white, and the busy little wife carefully wove it into the walls of her pretty house. That very day the home was finished. It was a long, hang- ing, purse-shaped affair, beautifully woven of the various mate- rials she had received, strongly stitched together by long horse- hairs, and firmly sewed to the branch above. You can see here a picture of it, with the family itself, Mr. Oriole apparently having some final suggestions to made, while Mrs. Oriole rcundly de- clares that nothing can improve it, and she'd like to see any bird in the neighborhood with a more comfortable home than that. I must tell you how the birds were dressed. The little builder wore a sober dress, of dull yellow or orange, trimmed with black and brown, quite in good taste; but Mr. Oriole was the least bit of a dandy in looks. His coat and cap, to be sure, were black, but his vest was of the most gorgeous orange and scarlet, his black coat was trimmed with white and orange, and above all, his boots and stockings were light blue. Busy times soon came for this gayly-dressed little fellow, for now five pretty, pink-tinted, and delicately-spotted eggs were placed on the soft bed of cow’s hair and sheep’s wool, which had been carefully gathered from the bushes and fences, and nicely DEE MEINEM Y IN THE. HOOGSE. 305 spread in the nesf, and Madam took her place on them for her summer's work of raising a young family. He had now to keep her supplied with good things to eat, and those who have noth- ing else to think about do get dreadfully notional about their food. Besides this work, he had to entertain her dull hours with his singing, for there is a good deal of monotony in sitting at home in one spot, for three long weeks, as anybody can see by trying it. The Oriole never seemed to get tired, however. Every day he made long excursions into the garden, looking under every leaf and behind every twig for a nice little beetle, or a soft fat grub, of which, Madam was specially fond. When she had dined he would settle himself on a branch near her, and sing his finest to amuse her. This pleasant life went on till the three weeks had passed, and one fine day the egg-shells were broken, and five baby Orioles opened their eyes on the bright world. They opened their mouths too, and kept father and mother both, very lively finding enough to fill them. Now the tree in which the Orioles lived hung over the roof of a house near Marcy’s, as I told you. In this house lived a sort of a monster in the bird world—a boy. His name was Will, and he had, from the first day the new family arrived, looked with longing eyes upon their pretty house. Will was—I’m sorry to say—that cruel kind of a boy called a ‘“ bird’s-nester,” and he fairly ached to get the beautiful swing- ing castle, with its treasures, into his hands. But the roof was so steep that for some time he feared to attempt it. At last, however, when the peeps of the young birds had driven him nearly wild, he determined to try. 20 306 QUEER PETS AT MARCY'’S. Without letting anybody know the cruel thing he intended, he stole out of a window and crawled along the peak of the roof. When under the branch, he carefully stretched @ijamre the nest, which he pulled away from its fastenings, while the pretty owners flew about in distress and terror. He cared nothing for their trouble, but he soon had enough of his own to think of, for having possession of the nest, he found that he couldn't get back again. He was afraid) tomer go of the branch, lest he should slip and roll off the steep roof. While he is in this uncomfortable position, which he well deserved, I will tell you about something else in the house. Will’s mother had, some time before this, taken a young girl to adopt from an orphan asylum, whose name was Mary. Mary was avery nice girl, and her life had been so sad that the prospect of a pleasant home with Will’s mother was a happy one. The family liked her, and it was as good as settled that she was to stay always, when, a few weeks before this day, something strange had happened. Will's mother lost a piece of valuable lace. She left it on the table in her room, no one had been there but Mary, yet when she looked for it, it was gone. The house was searched, for she could not bear to suspect Mary ; but when weeks passed, and it could not be found, she sorrowfully concluded that the girl was the thief, and a thief she could not have in the house. She forgot the family that lived in the castle in the tree, and never remembered that the Oriole family are very sharp-eyed when looking for building materials. The very morning that Will decided to try for the nest, was the one in which Mary had been told that she must go back to ALMOST AN ACCIDENT. 307 the asylum with a bad name, and she went sadly to her room to pack her things to go. Everything was in the trunk, and plenty of tears dropped in with them, and the lonely girl sat down by the window to rest, _when she heard a faint cry of “ Mary! Mary!” It seemed to come from outside, and she put her head out of the window to see. There, half way down the steep roof, was Will, holding on for dear life, and getting more and more frightened as he grew tired. | In a moment the girl forgot her own trouble in his danger. She slipped off her shoes, and stepped cautiously out her win- dow into the eaves-gutter which ran along the edge. Quickly creeping up to him, in imminent danger of slipping off, she: reached up and seized his hand, and, by strange good luck, ‘succeeded in steadying him and guiding him into the open window, just as his mother came in to say the time had come for Mary to go. In a few words the story was told. The generous girl had risked her own life to save the boy’s. What was a bit of lost lace to the life of her only son? In a moment she resolved that Mary should not go, that she would try and cure her of her fault. She told her sc, and Mary burst into tears of gratitude and joy. Will’s mother then turned to her son to reprove him. He was looking eagerly at the treasure which had so nearly cost him his life, and which he had held on to through all his terror. Ree See, mamma,” he said, to avert the threatened reproof, “what a curious hang-bird nest!” “T can’t bear to see it, my son,” she began sternly, when her eyes fell upon it, and she started. 308 QUEER | PEIS = ALT MARCY ’S. “Why !—let me see it—why! there’s my lace this minute,” she exclaimed breathlessly, “ built into the very nest. The bird must have flown in the window and carried it off.” “Course it did,’ said Will coolly. ‘“ Hang-birds always hunt strings and such, to make their nests. See what lively young ones! Won't I have fun bringing em up?” The discovery of the lace, of course, cleared Mary of suspi- cion, and the result was so good that his mother had not the heart to find much fault with him. But what of the Oriole family left desolate ? They deserted the place, and were never seen in the neighbor- hood any more, and the little ones, after some attempts to feed them, were given away by Will to any one who would take the trouble. One of them came to Marcy, and became almost her — dearest pet. He was perfectly tame, and never lived in a cage. He perched on her finger, her head, or her shoulder, and was carried all over the house. As soon as he began to show a taste for weaving, which he did by trying to pull bits of her mother’s dress through the meshes of her lace collar, Marcy kept him furnished with lace and threads, and he amused himself for hours, as a child does with playthings, weaving the threads through the holes in the lace. A very interesting story lias been told of an Oriole brought up in this way by a lady in Connecticut. This pet would pry open her lips and take food from them, and delighted to creep under her cape on to her neck when the weather was cold. When she was sewing, the bird would play with her thread, try to snatch it away, or perhaps to help her. He would drive away anybody who tried to attract his mistress’s attention, and he knew enough to put his cake, when hard, into water to soften. AN AFFECTIONATE BIRD. 309 In winter his mistress had a small cage lined with cotton bat- ting, where the bird could sleep. As evening came on he would leave the big cage and go to‘bed himself, drawing the cotton together over the door, if she did not do it. When put into a cage with bars for a door, this wise Oriole knew enough to push them back, one by one, till he could: squeeze through and get out, but he never thought of getting away. He often went on journeys with his. mistress, and was perfectly contented, though his traveling cage was but a few inches square, and covered up in a bag, which left only a small hole for him to look out, and be fed. When his beloved mistress was ill, the affectionate bird hov- ered around her in evident distress. He would come to her ~ pillow and look at her, or creep under the bedclothes to be near her, all the time looking sad and low-spirited. He was well able to express his feelings, even though he could not speak. In fact we have no business to call any animal dumb; they can all communicate things, though not as we do, even down to tiny atoms of ants, which tell each other bits of news, where food is to be found, and other things of interest to ants. | This bird, now, plainly told any one whom he did not like, to go away. He also plainly showed his sympathy and sorrow for his mistress’s illness, and when he wanted to bathe, he would look at his friend and shake his wings, in a way that she under- stood in a moment. When she came into the house, after a short absence, he had no need of words to show his pleasure. He lived with her for seven or eight years, and was a delight- ful pet. 310 QUEER PETS\ AI MARCY’ S. CHAPTER Went y-PIF TH. PLAY-HOUSE BUILDERS. AMONG the strange things in the Den, which was a real curi- osity shop, was a pair of stuffed birds. They were carefully preserved in a glass-case with other birds, which Uncle Karl had brought home, from some of the long journeys taken when he was young. By themselves they were simply very pretty birds, of spotted brown and gold color, with a sort of collar at the back of the neck of bright pink feathers, but looked at with a drawing of the play-house they make, which came out of the Blue Sketch- Book, they | became exceedingly. interesting. They were Bower Birds, the only family of birds yet known who make any sort of a house besides their nest in the trees, and they live in Australia, from whence come some of the queer- est creatures we have. The play-house is a wonderful structure for a bird. There is first made a platform of twigs, closely woven together to make a firm floor, and in the middle of the floor is the bower. This is made of twigs also, with their short branches or forks turned to the outside, so that the inside shall have smooth walls. The twigs are firmly planted in two rows in the platform, and bend over towards each other, thus making a covered passage- WECOMATING. THE HOUSE. 311 way, often three feet long, and lined with tall grasses, which are held in place by small stones. The bower being built, then comes the most curious part of it—it is decorated. For this purpose the birds scour the coun- BUILDING THE PLAY-HOUSE. try for bright or gay-colored objects, feathers—especially a cer- tain blue sort—snail shells, broken glass, bleached bones, bright- colored rags, and pebbles of various colors. Some of these things, as the feathers and rags, are fastened in the walls of the bower, and the rest are piled in a heap =— SSS PT ATEME | 312 QUEER, FETS (AT) MARCIE, before each end of the passage-way, small stones being spread out like a fan, from the edge of the entrance, to make little paths. On page 3II is a picture of the Spotted Bower Bird at work, while the end of the bower is seen from behind the tree. For what these pretty play-houses are built is not positively known, though it is certainly not for nests. They are supposed to be merely pleasure halls, which the birds run through, with loud calls and playful manners. The Bower Birds in the London Zoological Gardens have built play-houses there, and are said to be never tired of deco- rating and playing about them. : The most beautiful of the family is the Satin Bower Bird, about the size of a pigeon, and dressed in the most glossy blue- black suit, with beautiful eyes of light blue, and feet and legs of white. The mother birds—as well as the young ones—dress in olive green, with eyes of still darker blue. They go in small flocks in the fall, and build bowers, not quite so large as their spotted cousins build. The gardeners of Australia do not admire the Bower Bird so much as strangers and naturalists do, for they are troublesome in the gardens, wanting everything they see, and pulling up even the little sticks used to mark where seeds are planted. They eat fruit and berries. A new Bower Bird has been discovered quite lately in New Guinea, which is the most wonderful builder yet known in the family. The bird is the size of a turtle-dove, and dresses in plain brown, but is a clever mimic, mocking the cries and calls of other birds so well as to deceive people, and drive bird hunt- ers to despair. RAP IBIRDS’ GREEN TENT, 313 He is called by the natives the “ Master Bird,” for the reason just given, but he has another name—the Gardener Bird—from the beautiful garden he lays out in front of his door. The house, like the others, is no doubt a play-house, and not a nest, and is a beautiful structure, shaped like a tent. First the birds select a small tree, with a trunk the size of a walking-stick, and no branches near the ground—this is the center-post. Around the tree-trunk, on the ground, they make a soft cushion of moss, and then proceed to put on the roof or walls. This is done with the twigs of a particular orchid, which grows in large masses on the branches of trees. The twigs of this plant are easily bent in any way, and so are nice for weaving. About two feet from the ground, on the little tree they have selected, the birds fasten a quantity of these twigs, and then weave them together in a close texture, and fasten the ends to the ground, a foot and a half from the center-post on all sides, leaving an open space for a door. Thus you see they have a most beautiful tent, two feet high and three feet wide on the ground, with walls of a lovely plant, which remains fresh and green for a long time. Orchids, you know, are air plants, and require no earth to keep fresh. Inside, there is a wide ring around the moss cushion, where they can run about, and have social meetings, the building _ being—as I said—probably a sort of public play-house. But the pretty green tent is not all of the work. The little builders desire a garden or lawn, and more than that, they make one. In front of the tent is made, first, a smooth lawn of green moss, carefully brought to the spot, and kept perfectly clean and free from leaves or stones. On this green turf are then placed the decorations, which are 314 QUEER PETS AT MARCY'’S. flowers or fruits of pretty color, so arranged as to form an ele- gant little garden. The objects are of many kinds, a red fruit like a small apple, another of yellow color, beautiful red flowers, even striking-looking insects. So soon as one fades, it is taken away to the back of the house, and something new is brought to fill its place. This bird and his play-house were discovered and described by a, traveler, Signor Beccari, and it is certainly, as a builder, the most remarkable bird yet known. Gee GLASS HOUSE, 315 Cre atbek VHIRTY-SIXTH. THE CURIOUS FELLOW THAT CAME IN A BOX. TOWARDS the last end of summer, Mr. Raynor, Marcy’s father, took a journey to Washington, and when he had been gone about a week, there came one day, through the post-office, a small package for Marcy. It seemed to be a square tin box, with holes punched in the ends, and suspecting that it held something alive, it was opened very carefully, with many precautions to prevent its tenant from hopping, or flying, or wriggling out. There was not much danger; he seemed to be a remarkably quiet creature when his prison was fairly opened to the light. Perhaps he was tired from his journey in the mail-bag; any way he had to be tumbled out of the box into another residence. This was a small house of glass on the table, in which had lived—and also died, I regret to say—several interesting tenants this summer. Much of the time the house had been empty, and none who lived in it seemed to like it, for it was really a sort of prison, and no one who went inside its glass walls could get out without the consent of its owner. But this new resident was more odd than any who had lived there before him, and his ways were so curious that I’m sure you will like to hear about him. His dress was a dark greenish-gray, though under a magnify- 316 QOCRER GEER A NEAT OY 7S: ing-glass it appeared speckled all over with red and yellow and brown. His body was rather more than an inch long, very round and plump, and covered with a pair of curiously folded wings. It was furnished with four long legs, and ornamented at the end with two little horns. } It was at the waist, if one may call it so, that wonders began on this queer little fellow. The waist itselfi—or thorax, as the books call it—was as long as the body, and was straight, thin, and horny, more like a brown twig than anything else. On this part were two more legs, the strangest you ever saw. They were much stronger than the other four legs, and had two joints, that you might call elbows and wrists. They could be used in walking, like the others, but they had more important uses, and were quite differently furnished. Inside, the arm, as we may call it, was flat, and had a most formidable array of thorns or spikes, and the edge was toothed like a saw. Those two arms were the prisoner’s only weapons, but they were terrible enough to the game he hunted, I can as- sure you. The oddest thing about him was his head.. It was three- cornered, like the face of a cat as usually drawn by achild. At each upper.corner, where the cat’s ears are placed, were two large eyes, and at the lower corner a strange and wonderful mouth. This head could be turned any way, and the knowing look, as it turned to glance at a wandering fly, or at a person who came too near the house, was something almost uncanny. It was so wise and knowing in looks, that one cannot be sur- prised at the strange names that have been given to this little creature in different parts of the world, nor at the superstitions WME PIA VING MANTIS. Cay 4 about him, as that he points the way home to lost children, or that he brings a blessing to the one he alights upon, or that ill- fortune will follow any one who disturbs him. The books call him the Praying Mantis, from his favorite atti- i ALL READY FOR THE FLY. tude, and here is the picture of him, which I shall tell you about soon. The first day the Mantis lived in the glass house he amused himself with trying to climb its smooth walls. He would put 318 QUEER’ PETS AL MARCY’ S, out his two long arms and paw the air till he touched the glass with the tips of his fingers, which were a pair of hooks, by the way. Then he would seem to take hold with the little soft-look- ing pads just above the hooks, and would pull up his body till the four legs all held to the glass. Up he would go, three or four inches, till he came to the curve of the side, for the house was really a shade, such as you’ve seen over delicate objects to pro- tect them: At the curve his feet would slip, and he would slowly slide down, down, till near the bottom, when he would fall over on his back. Then his legs and arms would paw wildly for a mo- ment, and up he would hop and try again. The next morning Marcy found him very still on the floor, evidently tired out with his gymnastic exercises, and perhaps rather stiff, too, as the night had been cold. She thegetore hastened to place his mansion on a chair before the register, and soon he was lively as ever, and just as anxious to climb the walls as before. But now she thought he might like his breakfast, and to know what he would eat she went to the big books. One mentioned his family name—which is MWantide, if you want to know—and dismissed him with the remark that he did not live in England ; another merely said that he was first cousin to the Walking-Stick Insect, and lived in the tropics and warmer parts of the earth, including our own Southern States. At last one was found that said the Mantis was the only one of his family who would eat meat, the rest being strict vegetarians. But he was dainty about his food; it must be fresh, and he must catch it himself. Armed with these facts, the books were closed, and the whole family turned its attention to flies. The children caught them, EATING BREAKFAST. 319 and before long the tenants of the glass house were increased by eight or ten of those interesting creatures. Now Mr. Mantis roused himself, and became interested in something besides the walls of his prison. The first fly he saw, he planted his four legs squarely on the ground, lifted his long waist almost at right angles to his body, and drew his two thorny arms up together, almost in the attitude of prayer. There he stood perfectly motionless, except the turning of his curious little head to watch the fly as it moved about. Soon the stupid creature alighted on the floor beside him. Instantly the three-cornered face turned toward him, and the whole body fairly trembled with excitement. Slowly the long waist and horny arms bent down till about level with the body, when there was a sudden snatch, and the fly was caught on the sharp spines and held up to the hungry mouth. Marcy wanted to see him eat, so she carefully moved the shade up near his head, as Uncle Karl had shown her, and with a magnifying-glass she took a look at the busy eater. What a sight! The whole lower part of his face seemed to be mouth. As he worked it, a plate on top—upper lip you might call it— worked up, a pair of jaws on the sides worked out and in, help- ing to cram in the wings and legs, and two yellow tongues—or something—were busy as the rest. All these organs were hard at work disposing of the different members of the fly, and every particle was eaten, though the head was rolled about for some time, as though almost too big to be taken in. When the last bit was swallowed, Mr. Mantis went carefully to work to clear up. Every part of his arms and legs were > drawn through his mouth. He reached around with his arms 320 QUEER PETS AT MARCY’S. and drew forward his legs one by one, and he rubbed his bent elbow over his head to pull down his long antennez or feelers. His toilet completed, he fixed his eyes. upon anethenmare which he caught in one arm, and held so till it was eaten. So he went on, till he had caught six, when he seemed to be satis- fied, and would touch no more that day. . But he was very entertaining for all that. He cleaned him- self up nicely, rubbing his arm over his head as a cat does, and nearly bending himself double—to the children’s horror, for they thought he would surely break off at the waist—to clean off the two little horns on his body. When he was not hungry, he paid no attention to flies which walked under his very nose; but if one came near his body, he would raise it from the ground, where it usually rested, without moving his legs, looking exactly as though he was amazed at its impertinence. If one came too near his leg, he would lift the limb instantly, and hold it high in air till the impudent intruder had passed on. He actually seemed to have a horror of being touched by a fly, which was certainly curious—considering. Marcy was much interested in the ways of her little prisoner, and hoped to keep him alive for some time, though the books say the Mantis dies in the fall. But the next morning she was sorry to see that he was stiff and dull. The warmth of the regis- ter did not revive him; flies ran over him without notice, and she put him outside the window to die, or get well if he could. He crawled up the side of the window-frame, and that was the last she saw of him. Then she got out the books, to see what other people knew about him. She found out that the Mantis mother makes her nursery on a twig of a tree ora bush. First she places the eggs Se OAnE OS FOR HER BABIES. 321 in regular rows, fifty or a hundred, or even more of them, and _then*she covers them for the winter with a nice, warm, silken quilt, that is very tough, though light, and keeps them safe and comfortable through the winter. The whole nest, when done, is about the size of a hen’s egg. When the weather is warm in the spring, the shells burst open, and the babies come out. They are droll little creatures, about as large as a common ant, and almost transparent in our coun- try (though in some places they are said to be black). They are not dull and stupid as many babies—far from it! they’re as _ lively as their mamma herself. No sooner are they out of the shell than they run about, and, I’m sorry to say, even fight among themselves, and each one quickly sets up life on its own account, for they are not in the least a sociable family. The deserted nest itself is used, in some parts of the world, by savage mothers, to rub the soles of their children’s feet, to make them good walkers when they are grown up. I said they come out in the spring, and they do if left where the mother put them; but I have read of one nest which— queerly enough—was made on a bit of stone, that was carried from France, where the Mantis is common, to England, as a curi- osity. It was kept in a cool place until long after the little ones should have come out. At last it was put up on a warm man- tel-piece, and in afew hours they began to stir; one after another made its appearance, till there were fifty young Mantis babies running about, holding up their arms as though begging for food. Food was. brought, but not of the right sort perhaps ; sugar, flowers, meat, and even insects failed to attract them, and in a little while they all died. - The first thing for the baby Mantis, as for other babies, is to 21 322 QOLER FPELS AIT MARCY Ss. grow, which they do like many little creatures, by throwing off each suit as they outgrow it, till they are as long as their mother, about three inches, and have bright green coats and a nice pair of wings. They live in trees and shrubs, and are so near the color of the leaves that they are hard to find. It is said that as the leaves turn brown in the fall, the tiee loving Mantis turns brown too, and it is true that the one Marcy had was nearly the color of a dead leaf, and it was in that season. There is one of the family, however, who does not look in colorylike a leaf, but like a flower. It lives in Java, and is of a bright pink tint, almost exactly like an orchid blossom. Kest- ing quietly on a tree—as the Mantis waits for its food—this pink fellow must look like a flower, and no doubt many insects are deceived by it. In our country, the Mantis is found about Washington and Baltimore, and farther south. In Baltimore the youngsters make small carts or wagons of cardboard, and, with cotton thread, harness to them a pair of these little fellows. This queer pair of horses may be driven about—at least so the boys say, I never saw it. In Washington—as Grace Greenwood has told you in a nice story-book—they are sometimes kept as pets, and are made tame, so that they will come when called, and take flies and bits of meat from the hand, and a naturalist told her that he had known a Mantis three days old to catch and eat a honey-bee. So you see they soon learn to look out for themselves. There is one thing a Mantis is afraid of, and that, strange as it seems, is an ant. Put one in the cage, and the Mantis, though fifty times as big as the ant, will try to run away. Don’t laugh A BORN FIGHTER. 323 at him! you must remember that in hot countries where the Mantis lives, ants are more ferocious than tigers, and though small, they make up for size by vast numbers. No insect can fight with them, and large animals, and even men themselves, if unable to get away, are killed by them. The Mantis is not a coward—in fact he’s a born fighter. He begins as soon as he’s out of the shell, and never stops till stiff with old age. He fights his baby brothers, and he never meets one of his own family without a battle. Even worse than that, after he has killed his enemy he eats him! | The Chinese keep them in cages to see them fightfwhich they do by swinging their arms about like men with swords, and often cut off the head. of their opponent by a blow. One that I read of in Buenos Ayres even attacked larger game. A gentle- man heard a bird shrieking and fluttering in a tree, and went up on a ladder to see what was the matter. He saw a strange fight. The Mantis clasped the tree with four legs, and held the bird (which was small) around the neck with his two arms. But there is something about the story that has never been told—that is, who began it? The Mantis had evidently been pecked by the bird, and perhaps this unpleasant hug was only what he deserved, for trying to make a breakfast of his smaller | neighbor. The Mantis in our country is a silent little fellow, but a traveler in Africa tells of one of the family which he found there who made a very loud and harsh sound like some large bird. This strange little creature has been called hard names. People who are not ignorant enough to worship or to fear him accuse him of cruelty. It must be admitted that his conduct ‘in his family is very bad, as we look at it, but as for his fly-catching, 324 QUEER NPE TS TALMIAR CYS: it is what he was made for, and housekeepers certainly should be grateful to him. He has more names than any three-inch-long fellow that I know. Besides Praying Mantis, and all the long book-names, he is called Soothsayer, Praying Nun, Rear Horse, and Camel Cricket. .The French name him Prie Dieu, and Le Prechemm the German, Gottes Anbeterin. I want to tell you what an old writer of more than a hundred years ago says of the Mantis, it is so quaint and funny. “So divine a creature is this esteemed that if a child ask the way to such a place she will stretch out one of her feet and show him the right way, and seldom or never misse. As she resembleth those Diviners in the elevation of her hands, so also in likeness of motion; for if they do not sport themselves as others do, nor leap nor play, but walking softly, she retains her modesty. and shewes forth a kind of mature gravity.” You may think the Mantis is a queer-looking fellow, but you should see some insects that used to belong to his family, but have lately been put into another by the book-makers. One family, called the Walking-Sticks, look so much like different sorts of green and brown leaves that they are often mistaken for them, and others so nearly resemble dry twigs that they equally deceive people. One Walking-Stick that lives in Fiji is a monster, a giant in- sect, being fifteen inches long when his legs stretch out, as he usually stands, and as big as a man’s thumb. Some of this family live in our country, though not so enor- mous as this one. They have never been known to do any harm till lately. Perhaps they have just found out how nice are certain trees to eat. Whatever the reason, they have within ASLO WER OL) EG Gis: 325 a few years taken to eating the leaves off many beautiful EPCES. Naturally this did not please the farmers. They wrote letters about it to the papers, and at last the naturalists went after the queer creatures and found out many things about them. They are sociable fellows, and when they have stripped one tree, they start off in armies to another, so close together that they cover fences and ground on the way. The mother Walking-Stick is not avery careful nurse. Her babies are safely packed in a tough little egg-shell, black and shining, to stay over winter, and hatch out in the spring. Now, instead of covering them up nicely from the cold, as the Mantis does her little ones, this heartless creature simply drops them to the ground. In the autumn, when the mothers are eating their last, and the leaves are falling—for they all die at the end of summer—one walking under the trees which are covered by them will hear a constant patter like rain, caused by the fall of eggs, which often lie thick enough to scrape into piles. Who ever heard of a shower of eggs? All winter the black eggs lie on the ground—unless the Sane has been wise enough to destroy them—and in the spring the babies come out. They are dressed in pale green, and at first do not go very high on the trees. But they soon grow, and shed their skins, changing color to match the leaves, light green ‘in. spring, gray and brown in summer, and dead leaf color in autumn. This fellow is not a pet in the country where he lives. The names he gets are not pet names, Stick Bug, Prairie Alligator, Devil’s Horse, and others. 25 te " - 326 OUEERSPETS AT: MARCY *S. Professor Riley says they may be destroyed by burying in the ground, or burning the dead leaves where the eggs lie. I can’t end this story any more than I could begin it, because it hasn’t come to an end yet. Marcy’s is just as full of pets as ever,and new ones coming every year. I shall have to stop in the middle after all. THE END. * — ‘ * NINA}