IN A MENAGERIE.
There is a distinct individuality among tigers, as among ourselves, some being gentle and tolerably tractable, while others are fierce, morose, and not to be trusted.
In Mr. G. Sanger’s menagerie, at Margate, England, there are two tigresses which are of exactly opposite characters. Both go by the name of “Bessy,” there being an extraordinary lack of originality in the nomenclature of animals.
The difference may be partly owing to the accident of birth, one having been captured while young, and the other born in a menagerie.
One might naturally imagine that the latter would be the better tempered of the two, she never having known the freedom of savage life. But, in accordance with the invariable rule, the “forest-bred” animal is the tamer, those which have been born in captivity being always uncertain in their ways, and not to be trusted.
Now, “Bessy the First” is forest bred. The head keeper, Walter Stratford, has the most perfect confidence in her, and can take any liberties with her.
After I had paid several visits to the menagerie, I thought that she began to recognize me, and therefore cultivated her acquaintance. Now, as soon as I enter the house, Bessy tries to attract my attention, expects to be patted and stroked, her ears to be pulled, and her nose rubbed, just as a pet cat would do.
One day I had an unexpected experience with her. Nearly the whole of the end of the room is occupied by a huge cage, in which Stratford delights in putting all sorts of incongruous animals.
There are several varieties of monkeys, a porcupine, a goat, some rabbits and guinea-pigs, a few geese and ducks, four cats, a coati-mondi, two raccoons, a jackal, a little white Pomeranian dog named Rose, two pigs, and other animals.
Thinking that the goat would like some fresh grass, I went to the lawn, gathered a large handful, and brought it to the goat.
Not a blade of that grass did she get. I had hardly held the grass to the bars when Rose flew at it, drove the goat away, and literally tore the grass out of my hands. Three times did I fetch grass before the goat was allowed to eat a blade of it. Ever since that time I have always furnished myself with a good supply of grass before visiting these animals.
On one occasion I stopped as usual at Bessie’s cage, and noticed that she stared fixedly at the grass. So I said, jokingly:
“Why, Bessy, you cannot want grass. However, here it is if you want it.”
So I put my hand into the cage, and was much surprised by seeing her gently scrape the grass out of my hand with her huge paw. Then she lay down, gathered the grass between her paws, and licked up every particle of it.
When she had finished it, she looked appealingly in my face as if asking for another supply; so I brought a fresh handful, the whole of which she took in the same dainty way.
Meanwhile Rose was performing the most extraordinary antics at the end of the room. She had seen me bring in the grass, and naturally imagined that it was intended for her. What with disappointment, and what with jealousy, she was simply frantic, barking, yelping, jumping up and down, scratching at the bars of the cage, and expressing her outraged feelings in the most ludicrous fashion. Now I always give Bessy her allowance of grass first, and then take another portion to Rose and the goat.
It is a rather remarkable fact that the carnivora are much more eager for the grass than are the deer, camels, antelopes and other vegetable feeders.
As to “Bessy the First,” she is so fond of Stratford, and places such reliance on him, that when she has cubs she will allow him to enter the cage, take away the cubs and hand them about among the visitors. In fact, she is quite pleased to see that her offspring attract so much attention.
Very different is “Bessy the second.” She never had a very good temper, but was not considered to be a very dangerous animal, until an event occurred which completely altered, or, at all events, had an evil influence upon her character.
Nearly two years ago, three young lion cubs were in the next cage to hers. One day she seemed to be seized with a sudden frenzy, smashed the partition between the cages, flew at the cubs, and killed two of them in a moment.
The whole attack was so quick and unexpected that Stratford had only just time to save the life of the third cub. Since that time she has been carefully watched, for when once a lion or a tiger has broken through a cage it is apt to repeat the operation.
“Bessy the Second” is restless, morose and suspicious, and if any of the animals make a sudden movement, she starts up, stares at them through the bars, and often sets up a series of roars, which have the effect of causing every lion and tiger in the place to roar for sympathy, so that the noise is deafening.