OSTRICH FARMING AT CAPE COLONY.
In the early settlement of Cape Colony, ostriches were found in great numbers. No later than fifty years ago flocks could be seen in almost any section of it. The salty nature of the soil, the sweet grass, and the dry atmosphere of the karroo plains are very favorable to the health of these birds.
As the hunters became more and more eager to secure the feathers, which were the real plunder of the chase, they wantonly hunted and killed great numbers of ostriches. In consequence the birds became very scarce, and the hunters had to seek their sport farther and farther to the north.
The settlers soon turned their attention to the rearing of ostriches as they would turkeys or hens, and ostrich farms became a common feature of Cape Colony. Ostrich farming is not only an interesting industry for the Boers, but it is a most lucrative business. The feathers, too, from these farms surpass in quality and value those brought from the wilds of the interior.
As a pound of ostrich plumes is worth about three hundred dollars, the owner of an ostrich farm finds it a profitable business to own as many full-grown birds as possible; for each will yield a quarter of a pound of feathers yearly. A tiny chick a week old is valued at the sum of fifty dollars, while a full-grown bird will command as high a price as two hundred and fifty.
The ugly scenery of Cape Colony, its eccentric plants, queer beasts, and general look of incompleteness, according to one writer, have called forth the remark from some jocular American that "South Africa was finished off in a hurry late on Saturday night, with a few diamonds thrown in to compensate."
The owner of an ostrich farm, however, finds much in compensation. The author of "Home Life on an Ostrich Farm" thus describes a farm of some twelve hundred acres: "We are in that part of the Karroo which is called the Zwart Ruggens, or 'black rugged country,' so named from the appearance it presents when, during the frequent long droughts, the bush loses all its verdure, and becomes outwardly so black and dry-looking that no one unacquainted with this most curious kind of vegetation would suppose it capable of containing the smallest amount of nutriment for ostriches, sheep, or goats.
"But if you break one of these apparently dried-up sticks, you find it all green and succulent inside, full of a very nourishing saline juice; and thus, even in long droughts, which sometimes last more than a year, this country is able to support stock in a most marvelous manner, of which, judging by outward appearance, it certainly does not seem capable. It seems strange that in this land of dryness the plants are so full of moisture; one wonders whence it can possibly have come.
"The little karroo plant, from which the district takes its name, is one of the best kinds of bush for ostriches, as well as for sheep and goats. It grows in little compact round tufts not more than seven or eight inches from the ground, and though so valuable to farmers it is but unpretending in appearance, with tiny narrow leaves, and a little, round, bright yellow flower, exactly resembling the center of an English daisy after its last petal has been pulled.
"The fei-bosch is another of our commonest and useful plants. Its pinkish lilac flower is very like that of the portulacca, and its little flat succulent leaves look like miniature prickly pear leaves without the prickles; hence its name, from Turk-fei, Turkish fig. When flowering in large masses, and seen at a little distance, the fei-bosch might almost be taken for heather.
"The brack-bosch, which completes our trio of very best kinds of ostrich bush, is a taller and more graceful plant than either of the preceding, with bluish green leaves, and blossoms consisting of a spike of little greenish tufts; but there are an endless variety of other plants, among which there is hardly one that is not good nourishing food for the birds.
"All are alike succulent and full of salt, giving out a crisp, crackling sound as you walk over them. All have the same strange way of growing, each plant a little patch by itself, just as the tufts of wool grow on the Hottentots' heads; and the flowers of nearly all are of the portulacca type, some large, some small, some growing singly, others in clusters. They are of different colors,—white, yellow, orange, red, pink, lilac, etc. They are very delicate and fragile flowers; and, pretty as they are, it is useless to attempt carrying them home, for they close up and fade as soon as they are gathered.
"The spekboom, which is a good-sized shrub, sometimes attaining the height of fifteen or twenty feet, grows plentifully a little way up the mountains; and in very protracted droughts, when the karroo and other bush of the plains begin at last to fail, it is our great resource for the ostriches, which then ascend for the purpose of feeding upon it; and though they do not care for it as they do for their usual kinds of food, it is good and nourishing for them. It has a large, soft stem, very thick, round, succulent leaves, and its clusters of star-shaped, waxlike flowers are white, sometimes slightly tinged with pink.
"Thorny plants abound, especially on the mountains, where indeed almost every bush which is not soft and succulent is armed with strong, sharp, often cruelly hooked spikes. On foot you are perpetually assailed by the great strong hooks of the wild asparagus, a troublesome enemy, whose long straggling branches trailing over the ground are most destructive to the skirts of dresses; while boots have deadly foes, not only in the shape of rough ground and hard, sharp-pointed stones, but also in that of numerous prickly and scratchy kinds of small bush.
"Among our troublesome plants, one of the worst and most plentiful is the prickly pear. It spreads with astonishing rapidity, and is so tenacious of life that a leaf, or even a small portion of a leaf, if thrown on the ground, strikes out roots almost immediately, and becomes the parent of a fast-growing plant.
"Sometimes ostriches help themselves to prickly pears, acquire a morbid taste for them, and go on indulging in them, reckless of the long stiff spikes on the leaves, with which their poor heads and necks soon become so covered as to look like pincushions stuck full of pins, and of the still more cruel, almost invisible fruit thorns which at last line the interior of their throats, besides so injuring their eyes that they become perfectly blind, and are unable to feed themselves."
Speaking of the prickly pear still further, the author acknowledges that it is not without its good qualities: "Its juicy fruit, though rather deficient in flavor, is delightfully cool and refreshing in the dry heat of summer, and a kind of treacle, by no means to be despised, is made from it.
"Great caution is needed in peeling the prickly pear, the proper way being to impale the fruit on a fork or stick while you cut it open and remove the skin. On no account must the latter be touched with the hands, or direful consequences will ensue.
"To the inexperienced eye the prickly pear looks innocent enough, with its smooth, shiny skin, suggestive only of a juicy interior, and telling no tales of lurking mischief; yet each of these soft-looking tufts, with which at regular intervals it is dotted, is a quiver filled with terrible, tiny, hairlike thorns, or rather stings, and woe betide the fingers of the unwary, who with no kind friend at hand to warn him, plucks the treacherous fruit.
"In dry weather at the Cape these spiteful little stings do not even wait for the newly arrived victim; but fly about, light as thistle down, ready to settle on any one who has not learned by experience to give the prickly-pear bushes a wide berth.
"The leaves of the prickly pear are good for ostriches and cattle, though the work of burning off the thorns and cutting the leaves in pieces is so tedious that it is only resorted to when other food becomes scarce. One kind, the 'bald-leaf,' has no thorns. It is comparatively rare, and farmers plant and cultivate it as carefully as they exterminate its troublesome relative."
Another queer plant this author describes as candle-bush, a stunted, thorny plant, which, if lighted at one end, will burn steadily just like a wax candle, and can be used as a torch for burning off the thorns of the prickly pear.
Speaking of the dry season, this writer says: "The long droughts are certainly very trying; indeed, they could not possibly be endured by any country less wonderfully fertile than South Africa, where it is calculated that three good days' rain in the year, could we but have this regularly, would be sufficient to meet all the needs of the land. But often for more than a year there will be no rain worth mentioning.
"The dams, or large artificial reservoirs, of which each farm usually possesses several, gradually become dry, and the land daily loses more of its verdure, till at last all is one dull, ugly brown, and the whole plain lies parched and burnt up under a sky from which every atom of moisture seems to have departed.
"The stock, with pathetic tameness of thirst, come from all parts of the farm to congregate close round the house, the inquiring ostriches tapping with their bills on the windows, as they look in at you, and the cattle lowing in piteous appeal for water. Then the hot winds sweep across the country, making everybody tired, languid, headachy, and cross. Even our pets were sulky on a hot, windy day; and as for the ostriches, they were deplorable-looking objects indeed, as they stood gasping for breath, with pendant wings, open bills, and inflated throats, the pictures of imbecile misery."
When the weary drought is over, and the long-wished-for rain begins to fall, every one's heart is gladdened by the sound of abundance of rain, and the voice of many waters.
"It means everything to the farmer: the long drought over at last, the dams full, the parched country revived, the poor thin cattle no longer in danger of starvation, healthier ostriches, a better quality of feathers, a near prospect of nests, and, in fact, the removal of a load of cares and anxieties.
"How early we are all astir on the morning after a big rain! and with what eager excitement we look out, in the first gleam of daylight, for that most welcome sight, the newly filled dam! Everywhere the water is standing in immense pools and ponds. A troop of ostriches come down to drink. They are no doubt delighted to find such an abundant supply of water, after the somewhat scanty allowance which has been portioned out to them of late; and they stand greedily scooping up large quantities with their broad bills, then assuming comical attitudes as they stretch out their distended necks to allow the fluid to run down. In the distance, about a dozen other ostriches are spreading their white wings and waltzing along magnificently—a pretty way of expressing their satisfaction at this new and delightful change in circumstances."