THE GIRAFFE, OR CAMELOPARD.
(Camelopardalis Giraffa.)
This most remarkable ruminant, which in its general structure nearly approaches the Deer, has points of affinity also with the antelopes and camels, besides very striking peculiarities of its own.
The head is the most beautiful part of the animal: it is small, and the eyes are large, brilliant, and very full. Between the eyes, and above the nose, is a swelling very prominent and well-defined. This prominence is not a fleshy excrescence, but an enlargement of the bony substance; and it seems to be similar to the two little lumps, or horns, with which the top of the head is armed, and which, being several inches in length, spring on each side of the head, just above the ears, and are terminated by a thick tuft of stiff upright hairs. The neck is remarkably elongated, and it is furnished with a very short, stiff mane, which stands out erect from the skin. The height of a full-grown Giraffe in a wild state is said to be seventeen or eighteen feet, measuring from the hoofs to the tip of the ears; but none of those in England exceed fourteen feet. At first sight, the fore legs appear much longer than the hind ones; but the fact is, that the legs are of the same length, and it is only the height of the withers that occasions the apparent disproportion. Le Vaillant was the first well-informed naturalist who studied the habits of the Giraffe in its wild state. “If,” he says, “among the known quadrupeds, precedency be allowed to height, the Giraffe without doubt must hold the first rank. A male which I have in my collection measured, after I killed it, sixteen feet four inches from the hoof to the extremity of its horns. I use this expression in order to be understood; for the Giraffe has no real horns; but between its ears, at the upper extremity of the head, arise in a perpendicular and parallel direction two excrescences from the cranium, which without any joint stretch to the height of eight or nine inches, terminating in a convex knob, and are surrounded by a row of strong straight hair, which overtops them by several lines. The female is generally lower than the male.... In consequence of the number of these animals which I killed, or had an opportunity of seeing, I may establish as a certain rule that the males are generally fifteen or sixteen feet in height, and the females from thirteen to fourteen feet.” The colour of the Giraffe is a light fawn, marked with spots only a few shades darker. The legs are very slender; and, notwithstanding the length of the neck, it manifests great difficulty in taking anything from the ground. To do this, it puts out first one foot, and then the other; repeating the same process several times; and it is only after several of these experiments that it at length bends down its neck, and applies its lips and tongue to the object in question. In fact, the neck of the Giraffe, although so enormously long, is not very flexible, as it contains only the same number of vertebræ or joints (seven) that is found in other quadrupeds with a much shorter neck; it is admirably adapted for enabling the animal to browse upon the branches of trees, but is not intended to fit it for grazing. It willingly accepts fruit and branches of a tree when offered to it; and seizes the foliage in a most singular manner, thrusting forth a long, reddish, and very narrow tongue, which it rolls round whatever it wishes to secure. Indeed, the tongue is a most remarkable organ in this animal, and we have been witness of some amusing exploits with it. In the Zoological Gardens at Regent’s Park, many a fair lady has been robbed of the artificial flowers which have adorned her bonnet, by the nimble, filching tongue of the rare object of her admiration.
The Giraffe is a native of Africa; and it was for a long time known only by the descriptions of travellers. It was first sent to Europe in 1829; but since that time many have been introduced, and several young ones have been born in the Zoological Gardens in the Regent’s Park.
Le Vaillant, in his entertaining Travels in Africa, gives an animated account of a Giraffe hunt:—“After several hours’ fatigue, we discovered, at the turn of a hill, seven Giraffes, which my pack instantly pursued. Six of them went off together; but the seventh, cut off by my dogs, took another way. I followed it at full speed, but, in spite of the efforts of my horse, she got so much ahead of me that, in turning a little hill, I lost sight of her altogether. My dogs, however, were not so easily put out. They were soon so close upon her, that she was obliged to stop to defend herself. From the place where I was, I heard them give tongue with all their might; and, as their voices appeared all to come from the same spot, I conjectured that they had got the animal in a corner, and I again pushed forward. I had scarcely got round the hill, when I perceived her surrounded by the dogs, and endeavouring to drive them away by heavy kicks. In a moment I was on my feet, and a shot from my carbine brought her to the earth. Enchanted with my victory, I returned to call my people about me, that they might assist in skinning and cutting up the animal. On my return I found her standing under a large ebony-tree, assailed by my dogs. She had staggered to this place, and fell dead at the moment I was about to take a second shot.”
The horns of the Giraffe, small as they are, and muffled with skin and hair, are by no means the insignificant weapons they seem. We have seen them wielded by the males against each other with fearful and reckless force; and we know that they are the natural arms of the Giraffe, most dreaded by the keeper of the present living Giraffes in the Zoological Gardens, because they are most commonly and suddenly put in use. The Giraffe does not butt by depressing and suddenly elevating the head, like the deer, ox, or sheep; but strikes the callous obtuse extremities of the horns against the object of his attack, with a sidelong sweep of the neck.
The Giraffe has a peculiarly awkward manner of trotting, as it moves both the legs on one side at the same time. In galloping, the Giraffe separates its hind legs widely, and at each stride brings them far forward on each side of the fore feet; in this way the animal makes rapid progress, although its appearance is rather extraordinary, and the stones cast backwards by the force of the hind feet not unfrequently assist in protecting it when closely pursued. The female Giraffe in the Regent’s Park was a very bad mother to her first young one, as she would not let it suck, and beat it away whenever it approached. The poor thing was fed with cow’s milk, but it soon died. Later young ones have been more kindly treated, and have in consequence thriven well.