“Good night, Uncle Thomas!”
CHAPTER VII.
UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT SOME INTERESTING PECULIARITIES IN THE HABITS OF THE OSTRICH AND THE EMU, AS WELL AS ABOUT THOSE OF THE TURKEY IN ITS NATIVE FORESTS.
“Good evening, Uncle Thomas!” said half-a-dozen little voices at once, as the party burst into the room. They had been romping as they came along the pleasant green lane leading to Uncle Thomas’s cottage, and, fond as they were of his Stories, it was some time before they could settle down to listen to his account of the Ostrich.
When, at length, order was sufficiently established, Uncle Thomas began. “The Ostrich,” he said, “is one of the most singular of birds, whether we regard its structure or habits. Though possessing wings, like other birds, it never flies, but, as it runs rapidly across the plains, it uses them to assist its speed. It inhabits the barren deserts of Africa, and the adaptation of the animal to the mode of life for which it is intended is one of the most striking proofs of God’s superintending care, the comprehensiveness of which is such, that we are assured that not even a sparrow falls to the ground without His knowledge and consent.
“Though, from the shyness of the animal,” continued Uncle Thomas, “and the difficulty of watching its habits in a state of nature, less is known of them than could be wished, we still know enough to cause us to wonder and admire. It feeds on the stunted herbage of the desert, and has sometimes to pass over long ranges of sterile plains in search of food. It builds no nest, but merely hollows out a place in the sand and deposits its eggs; not, however, to leave them entirely, as has been sometimes said, to be hatched by the fostering heat of the sun. During the day, when the heat is very powerful, and the sun beats directly into the nest, there is no necessity for her remaining to cover them, as they thus derive quite as much warmth as she could impart, or is useful. Besides, from the cause already explained, the Ostrich is often under the necessity of absenting herself for considerable periods in search of food; but no sooner does the evening set in, than she hastens to resume her place on the nest, and sits patiently till the bright sunshine of another day sets her again at liberty.
“A traveller in Africa, who had an opportunity of observing the Ostrich, says that it runs as rapidly as a good saddle-horse at full speed; and a philosophical writer, speaking of the providential arrangements of nature, says, ‘There is not in the whole range of nature a more beautiful instance of adaptation than that which subsists between the Ostrich and the desert. The desert is a singular locality in nature, and the Ostrich is singularly formed and fitted for the severe labour which it has there to encounter. In its walking structure this bird is not excelled by any animal, even by those swift Antelopes which are her near neighbours. We find, too, that wherever one species of action is required, in a very high degree, the organization of the animal is in a great measure concentrated upon that. Flight would have been of comparatively little use to such a bird, in the situation in which it has been placed by nature. Wings for flight, to bear up so weighty a bird as the Ostrich in swift motion through the air, would have demanded a waste of muscular exertion, for the supply of which sufficient food could not have been found in the Ostrich’s country. Besides, wings would have been of no use in the desert, because there is nothing there which a vegetable feeding bird could catch upon the wing, and the height of the Ostrich is quite sufficient to reach the top of the tallest vegetable in her pastures. There is, therefore, a very fine instance of economy in the wings of the Ostrich being so little developed, as that they are useful for flight, because this enables the whole power of the bird, in so far as motion is concerned, to be concentrated upon the legs, and the muscles by which these are moved.’
“A very interesting story,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is told of the affection of a pair of Ostriches which were formerly in the Jardin du Roi, at Paris. The sky-light in the roof of the apartment in which they were kept having been broken, the glaziers proceeded to repair it, and, in the course of their work, let fall a triangular piece of glass. Not long after this, the female ostrich was taken ill, and died after an hour or two of great agony. The body was opened, and the throat and stomach were found to have been dreadfully lacerated by the sharp corners of the glass which she had swallowed. From the moment his companion was taken from him, the male bird had no rest; he appeared to be incessantly searching for something, and daily wasted away. He was removed from the spot, in the hope that he would forget his grief; he was even allowed more liberty, but in vain, and he literally pined himself to death.”
“Are Ostriches very strong birds?” asked Jane.
“So strong,” said Uncle Thomas, “that when caught and tamed by the natives of Africa, they sometimes mount the children on their backs, and the Ostriches run about quite easily with their burdens. Here is a print of a scene of this kind, in which the little riders and their fond mamas seem highly pleased with the amusement.”