Eggs, generally forty to sixty for the keran (ninepence), are brought in by the villagers; the prudent Ispahani always tests his eggs by dipping in water—a very sure test—those that float being addled. Wild rhubarb (rivend), celery (jai-sheer), and chardons, also a kind of truffle, are hawked by boys; the wild onion, too, is looked on as a delicacy.
Mushrooms are found of large size, and are much appreciated. Potatoes are now coming into common use among the Persians; they cost a farthing to a halfpenny per pound for very fine samples of the tuber. Some fourteen years ago they were only cultivated for sale to Europeans, and were very rare and dear. Strawberries are gradually coming into cultivation near the capital. There are no raspberries. The Persians are loath to try new seeds or vegetables. Although I grew green peas in Ispahan, and offered to give the seeds to market-gardeners there, they would not take them. For, said they, “If the prince hears that I grow peas, I shall be obliged to present them to him, and he will never pay me anything, and when the crop is over, probably beat me because I have no more.” The yield of vegetables from native seed is generally very large: the Turkish cabbage grows to a size of twenty-eight pounds per head and quite white, close, and tender.
The Persians never reduce the amount of fruit or vegetable crop to produce a fine product; all things being sold by weight and at a standard price, quantity, not quality, is what is aimed at.
The narcissus and cyclamen grow wild; huge bouquets of the blooms of the former are brought in in early spring, and sold for a few farthings: every room at this time, even that of the poorest labourer, is decorated with this flower. The moss-rose and common pink are also everywhere sold; most of the stalls of the bazaar-men are decorated at least with one, sometimes with many, bouquets of common flowers. These men, too, have talking larks, nightingales, or parrots hung in cages over their shops, or, at times, turtle-doves.
A favourite pet among the Persians is the red-vented date nightingale. This bird lives on dates alone, and is brought from Southern Persia, below Kazerān. The owner places a date and water in the cage, and after a day or two leaves the door open. The bird flies away, but returns several times in the day, and always sleeps in his cage, for nowhere else will he find his food of dates.
Rats, save the Jerboa rat of the desert, are unknown; the arid plains probably preventing their immigration. Mice, of course, swarm, and the many ruins which appear all over the country are full of owls, ravens, and foxes. Choughs abound in certain places, notably on a high rock near Sivend, between Shiraz and Ispahan, on the high-road. Each town has its special bird that teems there, as in Ispahan, magpies, and in Hamadan, doves.
Fly-catchers of many hues are seen hanging on the telegraph wires in hundreds, and the oriole is common in Shiraz; the nightingale in the gardens of Shiraz is literally as frequent as the sparrow in a London street.
The marshes teem with water-fowl—grebe, mallard, ducks, snipe, snippets, cranes, some very large, herons, flamingo, cormorants, geese, and teal, are common; while eagles of various kinds, hawks, some of immense size, and vultures are seen on every march.
In some places the white ant is common, and when the telegraph-line was of wood, considerable damage was done; it is now, however, iron. Great diversity in the character of the natives is seen in the amount of damage done to the line. The turbulent native of South Persia always carries a gun, generally also pistols, and he has a peculiar delight in aiming at telegraph-poles, which he seems to consider as marks put up for his convenience. The pole is made in three pieces—a foot-plate (underground), a socket or holder of cast-iron, and a standard of wrought-iron. The marksmen soon found out that their bullets glanced harmless off the wrought-iron standard, but that a third shot, piercing the cast-iron holder, infallibly brought it down; of course its fall brought the wire with it, and frequent interruption was the result. From Kazerān to Bushire the poles were being continually replaced at great expense, and at length it was considered expedient to replace the ordinary iron telegraph pole by the ingenious “Hamilton” pole in places. This “Hamilton” pole consists of a strip of spiral wrought iron, exactly like a paper-spill in construction; these foil the marksmen: the bullet goes in one side and out the other, but the pole does not fall. I saw one five years ago with seventy-three holes in it, and it was as firm as ever, and is doubtless still standing.
This was one of the apparently trifling difficulties that had to be overcome in keeping up constant communication between England and India.