Chapter 11 - A Narrative of Hunting Adventures in Southern Africa by Mayne Reid
The Smallest of Foxes
The object which now fixed the attention of the naturalist was a quadruped,—a very small one, not bigger than a medium-sized cat, but altogether different in form and proportions. Unlike the cats, it had a long sharp snout, and a thick bushy tail. It stood higher upon its legs, too, than do animals of the cat kind, but the most remarkable feature about it was its ears. These were remarkable for their length, which was out of all proportion to the size of the creature. Its whole body was barely one foot long, and yet the ears stood full six inches above the crown of its head! They stood quite erect, broad, stiff, and pointed, and ending in an acute angle at the tips.
Its colour was a beautiful Isabella above, and cream-white underneath. No; the creature was not like a cat, nor a dog neither, though it was more like the latter than the former. But there is an animal related to the canine family to which it bore a very strong resemblance, and that is the fox, for it was a fox, the very smallest in the world, the “caama” of Southern Africa. And yet, correctly speaking, it was not a fox neither, but a fennec.
What is a “fennec?”
That is an interesting question, and one about which naturalists have bothered their brains a good deal. It is an animal of which there are several species existing throughout Africa; and of which the celebrated traveller Bruce,—who, everybody thought, lied so largely, but about whom conceited ignorance has since changed its opinion,—first gave an account.
It differs from the foxes in several respects, but the most remarkable difference is found in the form of the eye. In the true foxes the pupil is linear or elliptical, while that of the fennec is round, thus showing the difference of habit—for the foxes are in reality nocturnal animals, while the fennecs are diurnal. Some species of foxes, however, are twilight prowlers, and one or two of the fennecs are also crepuscular.
It is, therefore, scarce possible to draw a line of demarcation between the two. The fennecs, however, have been formed into a separate genus, termed Megalotis, from the extreme size of their ears. It is to be hoped that the question is thus settled that has so much bothered the closet-naturalists; who, taking their ideas from the anatomy of the fennec, have classed it according to their several fancies; one making it a dog, another a cat, a third a fox, a fourth a civet, a fifth a hyena, and a sixth placing it among the galagos!
Let us call it a “fennec,” or diurnal fox, and say farther that although there are several species of true foxes in Africa, and several of jackal-foxes, there are also several of fennecs. Three are well known. The fennec of Bruce, (Megalotis zerda), first described by that traveller as seen by him in Abyssinia, but also indigenous to South Africa; the “zabora,” (Megalotis famelicus), a native of Nubia and Kordofan, and supposed to be the animal represented on Egyptian temples, which has been taken for the figure of the jackal; and the “caama fennec,” (Megalotis caama).
A fourth species, “Lalande’s zerda,” (Megalotis Lalandii), has been “hooked out” of this genus, and made to form one of itself, (Agriodus), not because its habits in anywise differ from the Megalotides, but because it chances to differ slightly from them in the form and arrangement of its “ivories.”
Now of all these fennecs the one which was passing before the eyes of Hans was the “caama,” the smallest of the whole tribe either of fennecs or foxes.
Crouching just like a fox, now trotting nimbly a few paces, now halting and squatting close to the ground, as though fearful of being observed, the little creature passed on.
What was it after? What prey was it in pursuit of?
On watching it for a few moments, Hans saw to his great surprise that it was after the ostriches!
It was going the same way they had gone, its sharp snout set towards, and its eyes evidently bent upon, them. Whenever they stopped it did the same, squatting down as it did so, as if to avoid their observation; and when they moved on, it also trotted forward, halting at intervals behind stones and bushes and earnestly regarding the birds in advance. Beyond a doubt it was trailing them! But what could this little creature want with the ostriches? Certainly not to attack them, though it was following after them just as a fox would a covey of partridges.
It could not be that, however; as a kick from the mighty leg of one of these birds would have hoisted the fennec fifty yards over the plain, like a ball from a cricket-bat.
No; it could not be following them with hostile intentions,—puny pigmy that it appeared beside the big camel-birds!
For what, then, was it trailing them? Of course it was not running on the scent, but the view. On their track it certainly was, and as certainly was it “dogging” them. For what purpose?
This was just what the naturalist Hans wished to know; and he remained closely observing the movements of this miniature “microscopic” fox.
Talking of a microscope reminds me that Hans at that moment took out of his pocket a telescope,—a small one, which he habitually carried. This he did, because, in a few minutes, the ostriches were very distant over the plain, and their pursuer the fennec was no longer visible to the naked eye. With the glass, however, Hans could still make it out, and could see that it was manoeuvring just as when it passed him. All at once the ostriches came to a stop; and, after an apparent consultation among themselves, the cock squatted down, and his long legs were no longer seen. He was flat down upon his breast, and even through his small pocket-glass Hans could tell that his body looked more spread and bulky than before. Was he covering eggs? Was there a nest? The appearance of the ground about the sitting bird favoured that belief. There was a slight prominence around the body of the bird having the semblance of a bird’s nest; but Hans knew that the nest of the ostrich is of very simple construction,—a mere cavity scratched out in the sand, and scarce to be recognised from any great distance. Several white objects lying around the spot led Hans to the conclusion that there was a nest. These objects did not seem larger than “jack-stones,” but Hans, calculating well the distance that separated them from his eye, believed them to be ostrich-eggs, and therefore as large as paving-stones. Hans knew that around the nest of the ostrich scattered eggs are usually found—said by some to be there laid as a deposit for the food of the expected progeny during their early days of chickhood!
The two hens, after moving about awhile also squatted down, but they appeared only to kneel with their great legs doubled under them; whereas the cock sat low and flat upon his breast. This only more convinced Hans that there was a nest, and that the cock ostrich was taking his turn of duty, while the hens were simply gone to roost in the usual manner.
That the cock covered the eggs was nothing surprising to the young naturalist, who knew that it is the habit of the male of these birds to do so, and that he usually takes his turn during the night, when it is colder, and his greater size and strength are required to keep the eggs warm, as well as to protect the nest from prowling beasts of prey. One or other of the hens would very likely relieve him about daybreak. Of course both the hens were mothers in prospective of the future brood, as the cock ostrich is a terrible “Mormon;” and frequently does the polygamous on a large scale, having sometimes as many as a dozen wives. Our old fellow was rather a moderate Mormon, as he appeared to be satisfied with two—though bigamy, no doubt, is quite as sinful as polygamy.
Hans concluded that there was a nest, and full of eggs in process of being hatched. It was no evidence against this, that the birds had been away from it together. The day had been a very warm one, and during the middle part of the day—particularly in hot weather—the ostrich wanders away from its eggs, leaving the sun to do its work for it. The hotter the country, the less does the ostrich require to “set;” and in parts of Africa within the torrid zone where the heat reaches a very high degree, the ostrich has very little to do with the hatching of its eggs, but buries them in the burning sand, and makes the sun its “incubator!”
But what had become of our fennec—poor little fellow?
So asked Hans of himself, as he swept the plain with his telescope. While watching the late movements of the birds, he had altogether forgotten the beast.
After a time he was just able to make out its small whitish body stretched upon the ground, under the lee of a little bush, and apparently resolved upon passing the night there. Had there been any hole near, it would have preferred lodging in that—for the fennec is an animal that makes its home in a “burrow.”
Night had suddenly come on, and the darkness prevented Hans from observing farther the movements of either beast or bird; so putting up his glass, he rejoined his companions in the camp.