CHAPTER XXVIII.
BEASTS, BIRDS, FRUITS, AND FLOWERS.
Tamed pigs—“Marjahn”—Mongoose—Persian cats—Their value—Van cats—A fierce cat—How to obtain a Persian cat—Greyhounds—Toolahs—Watch-dogs—Monkeys—Tame lions—Tame and cage birds—Superstition concerning house-snakes—I kill a clockwinder—Wild ass—Fighting rams—Tame partridges—Gardening—Ordinary flowers—The broom-plant—Vine-culture—Quinces and pomegranates—Orchards—Garden parties.
Among the curious ideas that the Persians have, is that the presence of a pig in the stable is good for the horses’ health. They say the “breath of the pig” does the horses good, and makes them thrive. I fancy that the real fact is, that the tame pig turns over the “pane,” or dry horse litter, a great deal, and so prevents its rotting, and consequently saves the groom a large amount of work, for he has daily to spread the bed of “pane” used at night in the sun so as to thoroughly redry it. A good groom has always a large supply on hand, so as to give all the beasts warm, thick, and dry beds; a bad groom sells it off to the bath-keepers, and it is burnt by them as fuel.
Almost as soon as I had arrived at Shiraz my groom asked permission to buy a little pig; a tiny squeaker was brought and carefully nursed by him. These wild pigs are strangely thin, and as active as a terrier; they are very affectionate, and show it strongly to the horses and groom, all answering to the name of “Marjahn” or “Coral;” this is the universal appellation of tame pigs—much on the principle that all waiters are William, all boots (or bootses) George, and all chambermaids Mary.
When the horses leave the yard they are accompanied by the pig, who is inconsolable if left alone in the stable, and shows his grief by piercing screams and attempting to scratch his way out. As long as even one horse is in the stable piggy is perfectly happy, and goes on sedulously rooting and turning over the “pane,” which is his continual amusement and occupation, and from which he removes any stray grains of barley.
I marched, when we all camped out on account of cholera, some twenty-eight miles: “Marjahn” never left the heels of my horse, and was able to keep up when I galloped, but anything over half a mile was too much for him; he was not, of course, in such high training as his wild relatives, and when distressed he would commence squeaking and looking up in an appealing manner. He remained with us in camp, never leaving my horses, with whom he was on the best of terms. I often used to put the horse to speed when out for rides, and on “Marjahn’s” beginning to squeak the horse would look round and attempt to slacken his pace, and “Marjahn,” if really left behind, would show great distress. The pig would bathe in the river, and show delight in wallowing and swimming. As he got bigger he used to charge strange dogs who chased him, and was always more than a match for them, generally turning aggressor, and obstinately pursuing them with many grunts and shrieks. “Marjahn,” when a fine young boar of three years, was following my horse one day as I raced him against a friend, forgetting in the excitement the distress of the pig. Our gallop being over, I saw a black spot far away on the plain; it was poor “Marjahn,” who had burst a blood-vessel in his attempts to keep up with us; when we reached him he was quite dead. I never cared to keep another pig, and the groom’s grief was very great.
Another pet I had was an ichneumon, or mongoose; this was one of the large reddish variety, and had been brought from the Persian Gulf; I saw a boy dragging the poor beast along by a string; I gave him a shilling and possessed the mongoose. After the first two days, during which he was very timid, he became very friendly, and soon learnt to come to call.
His antics were most extraordinary; he would climb almost anywhere, and he killed all mice, scorpions, flies, beetles, and moths, also small birds and snakes when he could get them; his great delight was to get into any cranny or hole, and his activity and fearlessness were surprising. I had a large white Persian cat; this poor beast the mongoose was never tired of pursuing; he would erect all his hair and follow the cat, whose steps he would dog for hours; the cat was not allowed by him to eat, for did he once take his eye off his stealthy pursuer, the animal would spring on him, give him a severe bite, and disappear like a ghost under the fender, or in some convenient hole. I had to give the cat away, as he faded to almost a skeleton, being nearly haunted to death. The aspect of the mongoose when on the war-path was sufficiently terrific, the erected hair increased his size three times, while the bushy tail appeared part of the body, and was like a gauzy wedge: every now and then he would give a low growl, and when making his spring, emit a sharp rattling cry that was very startling.
He exhibited great affection to me personally, and would allow me to do anything with him; would cling on my finger by one paw and swing, or sleep on my shoulder as I read. At bedtime he would jump on the table and emit a plaintive cry, attempting to attract one’s attention to the fact that it was time to retire, and on my rising would precede me gambolling to my bedroom, sit on a chair when I undressed, and on my finally retiring jump into his little kennel. The animal was much cleaner than a cat, and made an interesting pet. He never would make friends with the servants, who teased him, or with the dogs, who, after all being smartly bitten in the muzzle, went in deadly fear of him. So tame did he get that on my leaving Shiraz for Ispahan I carried him the fifteen marches in my holster, turning him loose while I breakfasted on the road; at night he slept on the bedding, and when a stranger entered the post-house rooms he used to bolt up the chimney (these chimneys had no soot in them). He had a great fancy for warmth, and would sleep for hours under the fender. On one occasion this desire for warmth was nearly the cause of his death; he jumped into a brazier of live charcoal, doubtless deceived by the white appearance of the ashes on the top; of course the poor beast was much burnt, but I managed to save him, and his affection was, if possible, enhanced. I am sorry to say that his fate was a sad one: the Armenians caught him and killed him for his skin. I was happily able to cause the fellow who did it to be punished. On reaching England I obtained a mongoose of a similar kind from the Zoological Gardens, Regent’s Park: he too became a great pet with us all, but he used to terrify the neighbours, in whose houses he would suddenly appear, and on several occasions I had to rescue him from the clutches of a mob of British boys. He had an epileptic fit, to which he was subject, and died. He too manifested the same extraordinary affection far exceeding that of the dog, and while we had him we never had a mouse or black-beetle. These animals, like the weasel and ferret, are inordinately fond of meat, and it is dangerous to attempt to take it from them, especially if the beast be hungry. Neither my wife, myself, nor my English nurse was ever bitten, and the mongoose, as I knew it, showed far more affection and intelligence than most pets.