Читать книгу Tales of the Colonies - Charles Rowcroft - Страница 12

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AKANGAROO HUNT--DESCRIPTION AND HABITS OF THE ANIMAL--CRAB DILATES ON THE TOPSYTURVINESS OF ALL THINGS ANIMAL, VEGETABLE, AND GEOGRAPHICAL IN VAN DIEMEN'S LAND.

IT was just light when the stock-keeper called me, and I wasn't long dressing. I took one of the large pistols that father said I might have, and the stock-keeper had a musket, and we had half a damper and a paper of salt, and I had my big hack-knife, and so off we went. I do think Hector knew he was going to have some kangaroo, for he seemed so glad, and licked his chops, and Fly wagged her tail, and the morning was so beautiful, and what do you think, father? the bird that mother likes to hear so much is a magpie! it is indeed, for I saw it, and it's just like an English magpie, only it sings so beautifully. We walked over the plain till we came to the hills; the dogs kept quiet behind us. The stock-keeper said I might see they had been well trained; they kept their heads low and their tails hanging down behind them, as if they had no life in them; but you should have seen them when they got sight of a kangaroo, didn't they pluck up! We went on till we got about four or five miles from the tents, and then we did not talk, for the kangaroos are startled at the least noise; they are just like hares for that. Then the stock-keeper stood still. He said to the dogs "Go find," and then the dogs cantered about round us, going farther and farther off, till Hector began to smell about very earnestly.

"He has got scent," said the stock-keeper; and so he had, for he galloped off with his nose to the ground, straight ahead. Fly saw him, and she galloped after.

"I think it's a big one," said the stock-keeper, "the dogs seem so warm at it."

I was running after them as fast as I could, when the stock-keeper called after me to stop.

"Stop," said he; "it's of no use for you to run, you could not keep up with them."

"Why, what are we to do?" said I; "if they kill a kangaroo, how can we find it?"

"Wait a bit," said he; "all in good time. If the dogs kill a kangaroo, we shall find him, I'll warrant."

So we waited and waited till I was quite tired; and a good while after, Hector came back quite slowly, as if he was tired, with Fly following after. The stock-keeper looked at his mouth. "What's that for?" said I.

"To see if he has killed," said he; "look here, his mouth is bloody, and that's come by killing a kangaroo, you may be sure of it."

Then the stock-keeper stood up and said to Hector, "Show;" and then Hector trotted off, not fast, but pretty fast, so that I was obliged to trot too to keep up with him; and he trotted on and on till I was rather tired, I dare say for three miles from where we were at first; and on he went, and we following him, till he brought us to a dead kangaroo, close to a little pool of water. It was a monstrous big one, with such a claw on each of his hind-legs; a claw that would rip up a dog in a moment, or a man too, if he got at him.

"Good dog!" said the stock-keeper, and Hector wagged his tail, and seemed to like to be praised. Then the stock-keeper gave me his gun to hold, and he cut open the kangaroo and gave the inside to the dogs. Then he skinned the upper part down to the loins, and cut the kangaroo in half, and hung it up in a tree, noting the place; the other half he left on the ground; that is, when he went away from the place, for he would not let the dogs have more than a taste of the blood, lest it should spoil their hunting.

"What's to be done now?" said I.

"We'll kill another," said the stock-keeper, "if you are not tired."

I said I was not tired a bit; so after we had rested a little while, we went on again, the dogs following us as at first. We saw plenty of brush kangaroos, but we would not touch them. After we had got a mile or two, the stock-keeper, who had been examining the ground all the way along, said, "I think there are some big ones hereabouts, by the look of the marks;" so he said to the dogs, "Go, find," as he had said before. Almost directly, we saw such a large fellow--I'm sure he was six feet high--he looked at us and at the dogs for a moment, and then off he went. My gracious! what hops he did give! he hopped with his two hind-legs, with his fore-legs in the air, and his tail straight out behind him,--and wasn't it a tail!--it was as thick as a bed-post! and this great tail went wag, wag, up and down, as he jumped, and seemed to balance him behind. But Hector and Fly were after him. This time the stock-keeper ran too, for the ground was level and clear of fallen timber, and you could see a good way before you. I had begun to feel a little tired, but I didn't feel tired then. Hop, hop went the kangaroo, and the dogs after him, and we after the dogs; and we scampered on till I was quite out of breath; and the kangaroo was a good bit before the dogs, when he turned up a hill.

"Now we shall have him," said the stock keeper; "the dogs will beat him up-hill."

I wanted my breath, but I kept up, and we scrambled up the hill, and I thought the dogs would get him; but the kangaroo got to the top of the hill first, and when we got a sight of him, he was bounding down the hill, making such prodigious leaps at every jump, over every thing, that you couldn't believe it, if you didn't see it. The dogs had no chance with him down-hill.

"It's of no use," said the stock-keeper, "for us to try to keep up with him; we may as well stay here. He'll lead the dogs a pretty chace, will that fellow; he's a Boomah, and one of the biggest rascals I ever saw."

So we sat down at the top of the hill, under a gum-tree, and there we sat a long time, I don't know how long, until we saw Hector coming up. The stock-keeper looked at his mouth.

"He has killed," said he; "but he has got a little scratched in the tussle, and so has Fly. That big chap was almost too much for two dogs." Then he said, "Go, show!" and Hector and Fly trotted along straight to where the kangaroo lay, without turning to the right or left, but going over every thing, just as if they knew the road quite well. We came to a hollow, and there we saw the kangaroo lying dead. Just as the stock-keeper was going to cut him open, I saw another kangaroo not a hundred yards off.

"There's another," said I; and the dogs, although they had had a hard battle with the kangaroo lying dead, started off directly. Close by us was a large pond of water, like a little lake. The kangaroo was between the dogs and the lake. Not knowing how to get past, I suppose, he hopped right into the lake, and the dogs went after him. He hopped further into the lake, where the water got deeper, and then the dogs were obliged to swim, but they were game, and would not leave their work. When the kangaroo found himself getting pretty deep in the water, he stopped, and turned on the dogs; but he could not use his terrible hind claws, so when one of the dogs made a rise at his throat (they always try to get hold of the throat), he took hold of him with his fore-legs, and ducked him under the water. Then the other dog made a spring at him, and the kangaroo ducked him in the same way.

"Well," said the stock-keeper, "I never saw the like of that before; this is a new game."

And all the while the dogs kept springing at the kangaroo's throat, and the kangaroo kept ducking them under the water. But it was plain the dogs were getting exhausted, for they were obliged to swim and be ducked too, while the kangaroo stood with his head and fore-legs out of the water.

"This will never do," said the stock-keeper; "he'll drown the dogs soon at this rate." So he took his gun from me and put a ball in it.

"Now," said he, "for a good shot; I must take care not to hit the dogs."

He put his gun over the branch of a dead tree, and watching his time, he fired, and hit the kangaroo in the neck, and down it came in the water. He then called off the dogs, and they swam back to us.

"He is such a prime one," said he, "it would be a pity to lose his skin;" so he waded in after him, and dragged him out. "It's a pity," said he, "to lose so much meat, but his hind-quarters would be a bigger load than I should like to carry home; but I must have his skin, and I'll tell you what, young fellow, you shall have his tail, though I'm thinking it's rather more than you can carry home."

This roused me a bit, to think I couldn't carry a kangaroo's tail; so I determined to take it home, if I dropped, though I must say it was so heavy that I was obliged to rest now and then, and the stock-keeper carried it a good part of the way for me.

"What shall we do with the meat?" said I.

"What shall we do with it!" said he; "are you hungry?"

"I believe you," said I.

"Then we'll make a dinner off him," said the stock-keeper.

With that we got together some dry sticks, and made a fire, and the stock-keeper took the ramrod of his musket, and first he cut a slice of the lean off the loins, which he said was the tenderest part, and put the ramrod through it, and then he cut out a bit of fat, and slid it on after the lean, and so on a bit of fat and a bit of lean, till he had put on lots of slices, and so he roasted them over the fire. He gave me the ramrod to hold, and cutting a long slice of bark out of a gum-tree, made two plates; capital plates, he said, for a bush dinner. I told you we had got some salt and some damper, and I was pretty hungry, as you may suppose, and I thought it the most delicious dinner I ever ate. When I had done, I laid down on the grass, and Hector and Fly came and laid themselves down beside me, and somehow, I don't know how it was, I fell asleep, I was so tired. I slept a good while, for the stock-keeper said it would have been a sin to wake me, I was in such a sweet sleep. I woke up, however, after a good nap, and felt as if I could eat a bit more kangaroo. But it was getting late, and so we made the best of our way home. We passed by the place where we had killed the first kangaroo; so the stock-keeper brought home the hind-quarters and the three skins, and I brought home a tail; and really I don't know which is best, kangaroo steaks or kangaroo steamer.

"Or cockatoo pie," said his mother; "and now to bed; I dare say we shall dream all night of your 'Tale of a Kangaroo.'"

Will's account of his sport amused us very much; and it was a correct description of the way of hunting the animal. I may remark here on the amazing quantity of grass that a kangaroo eats; it eats nothing else in its wild state, but the quantity found in it has often astonished me, When caught very young, and tamed, it will eat all sorts of vegetables; but of all things I ever tried it with, it is fondest of brown sugar; it will follow you about for brown sugar, just as sheep will follow the shepherd to get a lick of a lump of salt. It is a timid, fearful animal; very pretty in appearance when its head and neck only are visible over the bushes, but an ungainly creature in its whole aspect. The feature of its false belly or pouch, into which the young one creeps to sleep or to avoid danger, is peculiar to the females of all the native animals of this country.

Crab says that every thing is wrong on this side of the globe, and that he is sure Nature first tried her hand at creation in Van Diemen's Land, and found that she was making mistakes, so she went right over to the other side and mended matters. "For," says he, "look at the trees, instead of shedding their leaves in winter, they shed their bark; and there it hangs, in rags and tatters, till it drops off. Would any decent, respectable tree in England behave in such a manner? And then look at what they call rivers! Why, the river Jordan (it's a shame to give it such a Scripture name) isn't so broad as the New River at home! As to the Clyde, I don't know what to make of it; it runs up hill in some places. The river Derwent is a biggish river, to be sure, but you can never depend on it; it never knows its own mind, sometimes it's high and sometimes it's low, and there's no trusting to its tides, at least so they tell me in camp. And the grass! it isn't green, like honest, wholesome grass at home, but brown, and as coarse as wire-grass in a swamp. If you want to make the grass green in Van Diemen's Land, you must set fire to a patch, and then what comes up after is green for awhile, but there's little of it. There's not a natural flower in the whole country; nor a root, nor a plant, nor a fruit fit for man's eating. The cherry-tree, as they call it, is a funny thing indeed! a sour, squashy thing, with the stone forgotten in the middle, and so it was stuck outside, for the look's sake, I suppose. Then every thing is contrary; you never know which is north and south, and it's winter in June and summer in January! I tell you what it is, Master, it's all a mistake, and the best thing we can do is to go back to a country fit for a Christian to live in--to Old England, where a man knows what he's about, and can get a pint of beer if he wants it, and get his plough and his cart dragged by horses, and not by bullocks in this outlandish fashion."