“It is too early yet to go out after prey,” resumed the oshingi, “for the birds are not yet in their heavy sleep. They awaken easily, and scent danger quickly. They are suspicious, for they fear us, and other night prowlers who feed upon them. I must wait a while though I am so hungry. He who is patient and waits, gets the prey.”
Reflecting thus, the oshingi coiled himself up and took another snooze; but now his heavy sleep was over, and he awoke now and then. At last about midnight he rose, saying to himself: “Half the night is over. Every day creature, animal and bird, is in its heaviest sleep, and will not scent me.”
With the help of his cat-like claws, he ascended his hollow, and when he came to the top put his head out, looked around, and listened. The storm was over, so he could hear well.
The oshingi is one of the most cautious and sly of the night prowlers. He is not of a very large size, with a body of about two feet long and a tail somewhat longer, and cannot fight big animals. His elongated head possesses most treacherous eyes. He sniffed the air, and thought there was no danger. So he came out, and descended the trunk of the tree backward, his claws firmly imbedded in the bark as a support to prevent him from tumbling down.
When he had reached the ground, he stopped, and thought a while. He wondered in what part of the forest it was most likely that game could be found. He sniffed the air, so as to go against it, in order that the animals or birds upon which he preyed could not scent him, for the oshingi have a strong odor.
Having discovered in which direction to go, he started out on his journey, saying: “I hope I shall find to-night some partridge or pheasant, or some of the fat green pigeons that perch on the lower trees. There are so many together that if I do I shall have a glorious feast. If I am unlucky then, I will go toward a river I know, and prowl along the shore, and seek for some wild duck resting or feeding on its banks, or for some other water bird.” He went noiselessly through the jungle, over the leaves and dead branches. Not one of his steps could be heard, for they were as light as those of the grasshopper, and did not make any more noise than a butterfly alighting on a flower or a leaf. This silent walking is the greatest gift possessed by the oshingis; no animal has a lighter step in the forest.
But, in spite of all his gifts, of light step, of keen scent, and of splendid eyesight, he saw no game that night, and returned to his lair with an empty stomach. It was four o’clock in the morning, about the usual time the night prowlers return to their homes. Before he went to sleep, he said: “I must change my quarters. I shall not come back here again to spend the day, for I shall surely die of starvation in this neighborhood. How hard I have to work for my living!”
The following night, the oshingi left his home earlier than usual, for not only had he to change his abode, but also to find prey. After a long tramp, he scented a black pheasant, and his eyes glittered with joy at the prospect of a good meal. When he came near, he saw that the black pheasant was seated on her nest; and in an instant he pounced upon the poor bird, cut its jugular vein, and drank its blood, devouring the body afterward. Then he continued his journey. “Now,” he said, “I have had a meal, and can look out for a new home.”
Shortly afterward, looking carefully at the trees he passed by, he heard a noise of something coming toward him, and he hid under the root of a big tree. The noise was made by kambis that were travelling. After the kambis had passed, the oshingi came out of his hiding-place, and started again.