Bible animals

by J. G. Wood

On the ground the Chameleon fares but poorly. Its walk is absolutely ludicrous, and an experienced person might easily fail to identify a Chameleon when walking with the same animal on a branch. It certainly scrambles along at a tolerable rate, but it is absurdly awkward, its legs sprawling widely on either side, and its feet grasping futilely at every step. The tail, which is usually so lithe and nimble, is then held stiffly from the body, with a slight curve upwards.

The eyes are strange objects, projecting far from the head, and each acting quite independently of the other, so that one eye may often be directed forwards, and the other backwards. The eyeballs are covered with a thick wrinkled skin, except a small aperture at the tip, which can be opened and closed like our own eyelids.

The changing colour of the Chameleon has been long known, though there are many mistaken ideas concerning it.

The reptile does not necessarily assume the colour of any object on which it is placed, but sometimes takes a totally different colour. Thus, if my Chameleon happened to come upon any scarlet substance, the colour immediately became black, covered with innumerable circular spots of light yellow. The change was so instantaneous that, as it crawled on the scarlet cloth, the colour would alter, and the fore-part of the body would be covered with yellow spots, while the hinder parts retained their dull black. Scarlet always annoyed the Chameleon, and it tried to escape whenever it found itself near any substance of the obnoxious hue.

The normal colour was undoubtedly black, with a slight tinge of grey. But in a short time the whole creature would become a vivid verdigris green, and, while the spectator was watching it, the legs would become banded with rings of bright yellow, and spots and streaks of the same colour would appear on the head and body.

When it was excited either by anger or by expectation—as, for example, when it heard a large fly buzzing near it—the colours were singularly beautiful, almost exactly resembling in hue and arrangement those of the jaguar. Of all the colours, green seemed generally to predominate, but the creature would pass so rapidly from one colour to another that it was scarcely possible to follow the various gradations of hue.

Some persons have imagined that the variation of colour depends on the wants and passions of the animal. This is not the case. The change is often caused by mental emotion, but is not dependent on it; and I believe that the animal has no control whatever over its colour. The best proof of this assertion may be found in the fact that my own Chameleon changed colour several times after its death; and, indeed, as long as I had the dead body before me, changes of hue were taking place.

The food of the Chameleon consists of insects, mostly flies, which it catches by means of its tongue, which can be protruded to an astonishing distance. The tongue is nearly cylindrical, and is furnished at the tip with a slight cavity, which is filled with a very glutinous secretion. When the Chameleon sees a fly or other insect, it gently protrudes the tongue once or twice, as if taking aim, like a billiard-player with his cue, and then, with a moderately smart stroke, carries off the insect on the glutinous tip of the tongue. The force with which the Chameleon strikes is really wonderful. My own specimen used to look for flies from my hand, and at first I was as much surprised with the force of the blow struck by the tongue as I was with the grasping power of the feet.

Among the wild legends with which the earlier naturalists adorned their accounts of all animals with which they were not personally familiar, those of the Chameleon are not the least curious. "Themselves," writes Topsel, an author of the sixteenth century, "are very gentle, never exasperated but when they are about wilde fig-trees.

"They have for their enemies the serpent, the crow, and the hawk. When the hungry serpent doth assault them, they defend themselves in this manner, as Alexander Mindius writeth. They take in their mouths a broad and strong stalk, under protection of which, as under a buckler, they defend themselves against their enemy the serpent, by reason that the stalk is broader than the serpent can gripe in his mouth, and the other parts of the chamæleon so firm and hard as the serpent cannot hurt them: he laboureth but in vain to get a prey, so long as the stalk is in the chamæleon's mouth.