LESSON XXVII.
THE MALLANGONG.
“I’m truly sorry man’s dominionHas broken nature’s social union,And justifies that ill opinionWhich makes thee startle.”
“I’m truly sorry man’s dominionHas broken nature’s social union,And justifies that ill opinionWhich makes thee startle.”
“I’m truly sorry man’s dominionHas broken nature’s social union,And justifies that ill opinionWhich makes thee startle.”
“I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken nature’s social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle.”
—Burns.
English settlers had not been long in Australia before they were told by the natives of a very curious animal, the description of which seemed rather that of an imaginary than of a possible creature. The animal was called by the Australian natives a mallangong, and was said to be very shy and secretive in its habits. The traders who heard these stories concluded that they dealt with some fabulous beasts, such as appear in the folk-lore of nearly all countries.
But one day a trader who was interested in natural science was standing on the bank of a pond, when suddenly a new animal rose to the surface of the water and swam noiselessly about. The creature had the soft thick fur of a beaver or otter, now apparently black, as it was wet and clung closely to the skin. Four legs the trader counted, and as the feet came to the surface they showed that they were webbed and pink-palmed like a mole’s feet. Stranger still, the small, pointed head appeared to have neither eyes nor ears, yet bore above the water a large, flat duck’s bill.
As the excited trader looked, the beast sank noiselessly out of sight. He realized that he was the first white man who had seen a mallangong, and that the strange tales were truetales. The Australian wonder must be taken from the domain of folk-lore and handed over to the investigations of science. But you must first catch your mallangong.
He consulted the people who came to his trading-house, and they told him that he must find a regular hunter of the mallangong; for the beast was wary and scarce. At last an old native was brought to him, who said that he knew how to get the desired prey; and at once a hunting party was organized and armed under the old man’s direction. What weapons did they take? Guns and knives? Not at all. The old hunter had for his equipment a long, tough, slender stick, pointed at one end. This was for prodding, not the mallangong, but the ground. Two or three others of the party were given drills and shovels, or pick-axes, and so prepared they set out, the old man leading the way to the bank of a little stream.
As he slowly moved along he thrust his rod into the ground and twisted it about. The others of the party considered this very dull hunting.
“I have found him!” cried the old man. “Dig! dig! Behold the mallangong!”
The shovels soon laid bare a little tunnel, which the guide said was made by the animal and led to its nest. With some eagerness the men followed up this tunnel, digging carefully. The process was long. The tunnel wound about and seemed to have no end. At last, with a cry of triumph, the guide laid open a small circular chamber, and picked up a ball of fur. “Lo, the mallangong!”
The animal was rolled up, its long, flat bill being turnedabout so that it rested on the fur-clad back. The feet were drawn up under the body so as to be invisible, and the captive seemed either dead or very sound asleep.
The trader carried his prize home, and soon it became lively and friendly. Almost all creatures like sugar and milk; very few disdain bread. The prisoner accepted kindly the novel food offered to it; enjoyed the sunlight; lost all fear of humanity when it was not treated with inhumanity; recognized the voice of its master; came at his call; and when he seated himself in a chair promptly climbed to his shoulder and surveyed its new surroundings with great interest.
Now that it was out of the water it was found to have nostrils in the extremity of its bill, small, bead-like eyes shining from the mass of fur, and ears acute enough, though they were merely holes hidden in the depths of the fur. The hind-feet, while webbed like those of a duck, were palmed like those of a mole, and spurred like those of a rooster.
While it enjoyed the warmth of the sunshine, in which it would lie curled up in a ball, as we sometimes see a cat or a dog, it preferred darkness for its explorations. At night it crawled about the room, worked its way up the wall by bracing against the furniture, and rummaged everywhere with its busy feet and broad bill. Perhaps it was searching for its friends, its native stream, and some soft earth wherein to burrow.
A pile of shavings or raw cotton and straw afforded the nearest approach to an earth bank that it could find in the warehouse, and in such a heap it would dig until it reached the wall, and then it would curl itself up and take some comfortin being securely hidden. A rat or squirrel in such a case would have gnawed through the wooden wall and departed without taking formal leave; but the mallangong could not break prison in this fashion, because it has no true teeth, only several horny protuberances on each jaw.
Examined at leisure, the marvellous animal was found to have cheek pouches something like those of a squirrel, and evidently very convenient as baskets for carrying food through the long tunnel which led to its room. The temper of the creature seemed gentle; it made no noise either for joy or pain, but a low whining sound, or, if irritated, a soft growl. At first its owner thought it entirely defenceless, but the old native showed him the spurs, and gave instances where when angered the animal kicked out with its hind feet and inflicted a long deep scratch, which was followed by symptoms of poisoning. On examination it was found that the spur was traversed through all its length by a tiny canal, which led to a gland or sac at the upper part of the leg; the whole arrangement being very like the poison gland and fang of a snake. This spur is present in a rudimentary state in all young mallangongs; in the grown females it disappears, and in the males it very greatly enlarges, no doubt because they are expected to do the fighting for the entire family.
This animal, popularly called by foreigners a “duck-bill,” and by scientific people a “bird-nosed-paradox,” is about twenty inches in entire length; it has its bill covered with tough skin, and finished where it joins the head with a fold or ruffle of skin; the fur is soft, fine, thick, deep-brown above,and paler on the under part of the body. The web in the hind-feet falls short of the strong toe nails, but on the front feet it extends beyond the toes, so that when the feet strike upon the water a broad surface is produced, enabling it to swim and dive swiftly and silently. The duck-bill is entirely aquatic in its habits and never lives far from water, making its tunnel with the round chamber, in the bank of a pond or stream, so that it can come from its front door and betake itself instantly to its favorite element. Its manner of digging is like that of a mole. While digging it contracts or folds back the superfluous skin or web of its fore-feet. The burrow has two doors, one just above, the other below the water-line. The tunnel is from twenty to fifty feet long, and the room at the end is lined with dried grass and leaves, affording a soft bed for the young, which are there reared until they are able to swim and forage for themselves in the water.
The food of the duck-bill, or mallangong, is generally found in the bottom of the stream or pond; the animal dives, turns over the stones with its spade-like bill, and finds in the ooze worms, small crabs, the larvæ of beetles, and water insects. Filling its cheek pouches with this prey it ascends to the surface and swims quietly about, while it carefully grinds its food into pulp with the bony, tooth-like projections of the jaws. In this careful mastication the lowest of the mammals sets some of the highest of the mammals a fine example.
The tail of the duck-bill is short, thick, and pointed; it is of very little use in swimming, and for that matter the hind-feetare also little used in the water, the broadly webbed fore-feet being the chief paddles.
For almost three quarters of a century the question of the young of the duck-bill paradox was undecided. Report was that the creature laid eggs; but then it was a mammal and fed its little ones with milk: how could any mammal lay eggs? In 1884 the matter was finally settled by indisputable proofs. The duck-bill mother lays two eggs, less than an inch long and cased in strong but flexible shells. When the little ones emerge from the shell they are exceedingly small, and are fed with milk from milk-glands in the skin of the mother, to which they attach themselves. They grow rapidly, and when they are weaned are given insect-food. Shortly after this they are led out of the tunnel, and at once swim with ease.