From North Pole to Equator: Studies of Wild Life and Scenes in Many Lands

by Alfred Edmund Brehm

Among the most remarkable steppe animals are those fishes found in the water-courses and water-basins which are only periodically filled. Even Aristotle speaks of fishes which burrow in the mud when the pools are dried up, and though Seneca sought to throw ridicule on the statement by suggesting scoffingly that one should henceforth go a-fishing not with hook and line but with pick and shovel, Aristotle recorded a fact which is beyond either doubt or ridicule.

The mud-fish,[44] which lives in the steppe basins and streams in the interior of Africa, is an eel-like creature, about 3 feet in length, with a long dorsal fin continuous with that of the tail, with two narrow pectoral fins far forward, and two long pelvic fins far back, and with this most important characteristic, that, besides the gills, there are also functional lung-sacs. This remarkable connecting link between fish and amphibian lives, even in the wet season, more in the mud than in the water, and likes to hide in holes which it seems to dig out for itself. When the supply of water threatens to disappear, the fish burrows deeply in the mud, rolls itself into the smallest possible bulk, and forms, apparently by frequent turning, an air-tight capsule, shut in on all sides, and lined internally with mucus. Within this the animal remains motionless throughout the winter. If we carefully dig out these capsules and pack them well, we can send the fish without risk where we please, and it may be readily recalled to life by placing the capsule in lukewarm water. As the reviving water soaks in, the creature still remains quiet, just as if it were heavy with sleep; but in the course of an hour or so it becomes quite lively, and in a few days its voracious hunger also awakes. For some months its behaviour remains unaltered, but at the season when it prepares in its native haunts for winter-sleep, it seeks to do the same in captivity, or at least becomes restless, and secretes an extraordinary quantity of mucus. If opportunity be afforded, it burrows; if not, it soon masters its inclination, and continues to thrive as before in the open water.

Fig. 27.—Secretary-bird and Aspis.

Sheat-fish or siluroids also pass the winter in the steppe as the mud-fish does. The amphibians too, along with some reptiles, especially water-turtles and crocodiles, burrow in the mud, and wile away the deadly winter in sleep. On the other hand, all the terrestrial reptiles are at their liveliest throughout the torrid season, and contribute not a little to enliven the dreary steppe which they inhabit in extraordinary numbers. Besides the vipers which we have already mentioned, there is another venomous snake of the steppe—the royal Aspis or Uräus—one of the deadliest of all.[45] It was with this creature, more famous or infamous than the horned viper, that Moses juggled before Pharaoh, as the snake-charmers still do; the same, too, whose image in gold the ancient kings of Egypt wore as a diadem to express their irresistible power, and which they used in the punishment of criminals, or in executing revenge on enemies,—a creature in regard to which the old authors tell many gruesome, and not always untrue, tales. In contrast to other venomous snakes it is active during the day; when unexcited it looks very harmless, but it is extremely agile, irritable, and bold, and combines all the qualities which render venomous serpents dangerous. Usually unseen, for its colour closely resembles that of the sand and the withered grass, it glides, often with uncanny rapidity, through the grass-forest, conscious of its terrible weapons, and ready for attack whenever it fancies danger. In attitude of defence it raises the anterior fifth or sixth of its body, and expands the neck ribs so as to form a sort of shield, above which lies the small head, with lively sparkling eyes. It fastens its sharp gaze on its opponent, and prepares for the bite which is quick as lightning and almost without exception fatal. Then its appearance is dreadful but yet beautiful, bewildering and terrifying to man and beast. It is generally asserted that this snake may kill without biting, by spitting or shooting its venom at its enemy;[46] and it is at any rate true that the poison-glands secrete the dread juice so copiously that great drops trickle from the openings of the perforated fangs. Little wonder that both natives and Europeans are much more afraid of this asp than of the sluggish horned viper which visits their bed by night. Nor is it difficult to understand why the stranger fires at every snake, even the most harmless, which comes within his sight, or why every rustling in the grass or foliage gives one a slight shock, or at least induces careful circumspection. But the rustling is continually to be heard in the steppe, for there are many other snakes no less common than the asp—many, from the huge python or hieroglyphic snake, sometimes nearly twenty feet in length, down to harmless grass-snakes of minute size. Besides these there is a countless host of lizards of all kinds.

Whoever has a horror of snakes may perhaps be reconciled to the class of reptiles by the agile, beautifully-coloured lizards, for creatures more attractive than these are not to be found in the steppe. They dart to and fro on the ground; they clamber on the branches of the shrubs and trees; they look down from the hills of the termites and from the roofs of the houses; they make their way even under the sand. Some species vie with the humming-birds in the brightness and glitter of their colours; others fascinate by the swiftness and grace of their movements; others attract by the quaintness of their forms. Even after the sun, in whose light they live and move, has set, and most of these active creatures have gone to rest, the geckos are still left to the naturalist. During the day these lizards remain quietly fixed to the tree-boles and the rafters, but as night sets in they begin their activity. With loud and musical calls (to which they owe their name “Gecko”) they hunt about without any fear of man. The ancients libelled them and placed them among the most venomous of animals, and even to-day this superstition lurks in the minds of the ignorant. They are nocturnal animals, and as such somewhat different from the diurnal members of the lizard race. Thus one of their peculiar characteristics is the cushion-like expansion of the fingers and toes, whose soles are furnished with numerous closely appressed plaits of skin, which act like suckers and give the geckos extraordinary climbing powers. These plaited cushions were long ago erroneously interpreted as poison-secreting glands,—an idea which now seems absurd enough.[47] In truth the geckos are as harmless as they are attractive, and in a very short time they win the affection of every unprejudiced observer. Most valuable domestic pets they are, for they pursue with eagerness and success all kinds of troublesome insects. In every room of the mud and straw houses their nightly activity may be observed; they climb about with all but unfailing security, adhering by their plaited feet to almost anything; head up or head down they run on vertical or on horizontal surfaces, teasing and chasing one another in pleasant fashion, making one merry too with their musical notes; they give one nothing but pleasure and do nothing but good; what reasonable man can fail to become their friend?

But they are reptiles still, and must remain under the curse; they cannot vie with the children of the air—the birds. And one may perhaps say that the birds are the first creatures to make a thoroughly favourable impression on the visitor to the steppe, and to reconcile him to the forbidding aspects of other animals.

The bird-fauna of the steppes is rich alike in species and in individuals. Wherever we wander we are sure to hear and see birds. From the densest forest of grasses resounds the loud call of a bustard; from the thickets by the water-courses is heard the trumpeting of the guinea-fowl or the loud cry of the francolin; from the trees comes a medley of sound—the cooing and moaning of the doves, the shouts and hammering of the woodpecker, the melodious call of the barbets, the simple music of various weaver-finches and thrush-like songsters. The high branches of trees or other prominent positions serve as watch-towers for serpent-eagles, chanting goshawks, rollers, drongos, and bee-eaters, which sit there on the outlook for prey. The secretary-bird, which the natives call the Bird of Fate, runs about among the tall grass stems or hovers above them; in higher strata of the air one sees the whirling swallows and other birds which catch their prey on the wing; higher still the eagles and vultures are circling. No spot is untenanted, in fact almost every place is thickly peopled; and when our winter begins to reign it sends hither many of our birds, especially kestrels and harriers, shrikes and rollers, quails and storks, who find in the steppe a hospitable refuge during the evil days in the north.

Few of the birds which live in the steppes can be regarded as distinctive, nor is the general character of the bird-fauna so clearly and sharply defined that one could at once recognize a steppe bird, as is possible with those of the desert. To some extent, however, the careful observer will notice that the birds of the steppe are congruent with their environment. The secretary-bird—a great bird of prey in the guise of a crane; the “snake-harrier”—a sluggish, slow-flying hawk clothed in rich, soft, large-feathered plumage; a straw-yellow night-jar, and another with decorative wing-feathers, a guinea-fowl or a francolin, a bustard or an ostrich: of these we might perhaps venture to say that they belong to the steppe, and are only there at home. It is not the case that the steppe is richer in colour than the desert, but it affords much more cover, and its tenants are therefore more freely coloured and marked. There are two colours to which it seems as if a preference were given; the one is a more or less shaded straw-yellow, the other is a hardly definable gray-blue. Both appear on the plumage of birds of prey and game-birds alike, but without, of course, excluding other darker, lighter, or more vivid colours. It seems to me worthy of note that the greater freedom of colouring and marking is also observable on those birds whose near relations are characteristic of the desert.

We should like to give a more detailed description of some of the steppe birds which are most distinctive of the region, but selection is difficult, for almost every one of those which we have mentioned claims and merits close attention. But my limits force me to a choice, and it must suffice if I select a bird of the upper air, a bird of the ground, and a bird of the night, in order through them to add a few touches to our general picture of the steppe.