The Boy Hunters. Reid Mayne
of his getting round quickly, renders him an easy antagonist on land, provided you keep out of reach of his great jaws, and beyond the sweep of his powerful tail. This last is his true weapon of offence or defence; and as it is not restrained by any vertebrae, he can use it with such effect as to knock the breath out of a man with one single flap. Many of the habits of the alligator are known to you. How the female lays eggs as big as those of a goose, and buries them in the sand, where they are hatched by the heat of the sun. Sometimes she cannot find a sandbank to suit her purpose. She then raises a circular platform of mud mixed with grass and sticks. Upon this she deposits a layer of eggs, and covers them over with several inches of mud and grass. She then lays a fresh tier of eggs, covering these also with mud, and so on until she has laid her whole hatching, which often amounts to nearly two hundred eggs, of a dirty greenish-white colour. In the end she covers all up with mud, plastering it with her tail until it assumes the appearance of a mud oven or beaver-house. All these pains she takes to protect her eggs from raccoons and turtles, as well as vultures and other birds, that are very fond of them. She haunts near the spot while the eggs are hatching, so as to keep off these enemies. When the young are out, her first care is to get them to the water out of the way of such dangers. This seems to be their first instinct, too; for no sooner are they free from the shell than they are seen scuttling off in that direction, or following their mother, many of them having climbed upon her back and shoulders.”
“But, brother,” interrupted François, “is it true that the old males eat their own young?”
“Horrible though it be, it is perfectly true, François. I myself have seen it.”
“And I,” said Basil, “several times.”
“The first care of the mother is to get them to the water, where she can better conceal them from their unnatural parent; but, notwithstanding all her precautions, many of them fall victims, both to the old alligators, and the larger tortoises, and birds. As soon as the young ones have learned a little sense, if I may so speak, they elude their monster fathers and uncles, as they are nimbler in their movements, and can keep out of reach of their great jaws and tails. I have often seen the small alligators riding upon the backs of the larger ones, knowing that the latter could not reach them in that situation.”
“They appear to eat anything that comes in their way,” remarked François.
“They are not very particular as to that. Fish is their favourite food, I believe, but they will eat any land animal they can kill; and it is believed they prefer it in a state of putrefaction. That is a doubtful point. They have been known to kill large animals in the water, and leave them at the bottom for several days; but this may have happened because they were not hungry at the time, and were merely keeping them until they should get an appetite. The process of digestion with them, as with all reptiles, is very slow; hence they do not require such quantities of food as the warm-blooded animals – mammals and birds. For instance, they bury themselves in the mud, and lie asleep during the whole winter without any food.”
“You say fish is their favourite food, Luce,” said Basil; “now I think they are fonder of dogs than anything else. I have often known them to come where they had heard the yelping of a dog as if for the purpose of devouring it. I have seen one seize a large dog that was swimming across the Bayou Boeuf, and drag him under, as quick as a trout would have taken a fly. The dog was never seen again.”
“It is very true,” replied Lucien, “that they will eat dogs, as they will any other animals; but their being particularly fond of them is a point about which naturalists differ. It is true they will approach the spot where they hear the yelping of a dog; but some say that this is because it so much resembles the whining of their own young, and that it is these they are in search of.”
“But I have seen both the males and females make towards the dog.”
“Just so. The males went to devour the young, as they thought, and the females followed to protect them. Great battles are often fought between the males and females on this account.”
“But how is it, Luce,” inquired François, “how is it they can catch fish that appear so much swifter than themselves?”
“Very few kinds of fish are swifter. The alligator, by means of his webbed feet, and particularly his flat tail – which acts on the principle of a stern-oar to a boat, and a rudder as well – can pass through the water as swiftly as most of the finny tribe. It is not by hunting it down, however, but by stratagem, that the alligator secures a fish for his maw.”
“By what stratagem?”
“You have often noticed them floating on the surface of the water, bent into a sort of semicircular shape, and without moving either body or limb?”
“Yes – yes; I have noticed it many a time.”
“Well, if you could have looked under the water then, you would have seen a fish somewhere upon the convex side of the semicircle. The fish would be at rest – no doubt, watching the surface for his own prey: such flies or beetles as might come along. Thus occupied, he does not heed the great dusky mass that is gliding slowly towards him, and which presents no threatening appearance – for the head of the alligator is at this time turned away from his intended victim. Although apparently asleep, the alligator knows what he is about well enough. He floats silently on, until he has got the fish within sweep of his great tail, that is all the while bent like a bow; and then, taking sure aim, he strikes the unconscious prey a ‘slap’ that kills it at once – sometimes throwing it directly into his jaws, and sometimes flinging it several feet out of the water!
“When on land the alligator strikes his prey in a similar manner. As he gives the blow, his head turns so as to meet the tail half-way – the whole body thus forming a semicircle. Should the prey not be killed by the blow of the tail, it is flung right into the jaws of the monster, where it is sure to be despatched in a trice.”
“But, brother,” inquired Basil, “why do the alligators eat stones and such substances? I have seen one that was opened, and his stomach was nearly quarter full of stones as big as my fist, and pieces of sticks and glass. They looked as if they had been there a long time, for the sharp edges were worn off. This I never could understand.”
“No wonder, for wiser naturalists than we do not know the reason of this. Some think it is upon the same principle, and for the same reason, that birds and other creatures swallow gravel and earth – to assist the process of digestion. Others have affirmed that it is for the purpose of distending the stomach, so as to enable the reptile to bear his long fast while torpid during the winter. This latter reason I look upon as very absurd, and worthy only of the fabulous Buffon. For my part, I believe that the rubbish usually found in the alligator’s stomach is collected there by accident – swallowed, from time to time, by mistake, or along with his prey; for his organs of taste are far from being delicate, and he will devour anything that is flung into the water, even a glass bottle. These substances, of course, remain in his stomach – perhaps accumulating there during his whole lifetime – and as, like most reptiles, his stomach being very strong, they do him little, if any, injury. We must not judge of an alligator’s stomach as we would that of a human being; nor, indeed, of any of his organs. If our brain is seriously injured, we die; but an alligator’s brain may be altogether removed, even in the most violent manner, and the animal will crawl off and live for days after. Instances have been known of alligators having had their brains blown out by a shot, and yet for hours after they would give battle to any one who might approach them. Their brain, like that of all reptiles, is exceedingly small – proving them lower in the scale of intelligence than birds and mammals.”
“But, Lucien, you tell us that the habits of the crocodile family are alike, or nearly so: how comes it that the African crocodiles are so much more fierce, as we have heard, often attacking and devouring the natives of Senegal and the Upper Nile? Our alligators are not so. It is true they sometimes bite the legs of our negroes; and we have heard also of some boys who have been killed by them; but this was when through negligence they came in the animals’ way. They do not attack one if they are left alone. We, for instance, are not a bit afraid to approach them with only a stick in our hands.”
“That is, because we feel certain they are too clumsy on