Chapter Forty Five.
The Pique-Boeufs.
Of course Hans, aided by the others, immediately set about skinning the widow-birds, with an eye to their being preserved. Arend was his principal assistant, for Arend was clever with his hands; and was, moreover, as good a taxidermist as Hans himself. It never troubled Arend to know the genus or species of a bird; but give him the bird itself, and he could strip off its skin and mount it without leaving a trace of a ruffled feather.
While thus engaged, a noise fell upon the ears of the young yägers that caused all of them to start—Hans and Arend dropping the skins of the widow-birds, upon which they had been operating.
The noise which produced this startling effect, was neither more nor less than the cry of a bird, and but a small bird at that. The note very much resembled the well-known call of the mistle-thrush or screech-cock, (Turdus viscivorus). It was no louder, and the bird that uttered it was no bigger than this thrush; but for all that, the note produced a somewhat terrifying effect upon the yäger camp. All of the party, both yägers and attendants, knew the cry well. Even the buck-dogs sprang to their feet, and howled as it reached their ears; and the whole camp was suddenly in a commotion.
Now, my young reader, you will wonder why the cry of a bird, not bigger than a blackbird, could create terror in the minds of such courageous boys as our yägers; and you will naturally desire to know what sort of bird this was.
I have said the boys all knew it, the attendants and the dogs. Nay, more, the horses and oxen recognised that cry; and its effect on them was not less wonderful; for the moment it was heard, the horses tossed up their heads, snorted as if in terror, and commenced stampeding over the ground. The oxen exhibited similar symptoms of affright. Yes, horses, oxen, dogs, Kaffir, Bushman, and yägers, were all affected by the screech of that bird, as it pealed along the rocks, and echoed through the glen. All recognised in it the warning cry of the Pique-Boeuf!
An account of this singular bird will explain the cause of the consternation which its note had thus suddenly produced.
The “Pique-Boeuf” is about the size of a starling, of a greyish colour over the body, with short wings, and tail somewhat of a darker hue. Its feet are formed for grasping, and its claws are hooked and compressed. The most remarkable part of the bird is its bill. This is of a quadrangular shape, the lower mandible much stronger than the upper one, and both swelling towards the tip, so as to resemble a forceps or pincers. The purpose of this formation will be seen, when we come to speak of the habits of the bird.
These are, indeed, peculiar; and, by the laws of ornithology, stamp the Pique-Boeufs as a distinct genus of birds.