The Oppossum Hunt

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The Oppossum Hunt

Oscar Wilde



THE OPOSSUM HUNT




Great was my surprise one morning when I woke up to hear the
horses pawing under my windows; I was going to inquire about the cause
of these unusual preparations, when my door opened and delivered
passage to my friend Robert, equipped for hunting.

- Come on, lazy! he said to me, laughing; let's hurry, it's time
to leave.

- Go? ... where are we going?

- Go on a hunting tour in the west.

Five minutes later, I was in the yard. Two bushmen
were holding four saddled horses in their hands: rough men, these
servants of Robert; lads with boring faces, adorned with
long uncultivated beards, wearing old distorted felt-tip pens,
a thick red woolen shirt, linen breeches and
large boots of fawn leather. To complete the costume, each
of them carried in the belt a large revolver, a knife of
hunting, and slung a heavy rifle.

A few minutes later, we were galloping across the plain, followed
of a light car called a buggy, driven by a cook
negro, and containing provisions. In front of us, Nero was frolicking
and Trim, two pointers specially trained to hunt
the opossum.

This, dear reader, was happening in Australia, now
five years.

The chances of my adventurous life had led me to Sidney,
capital of New South Wales; I was going to leave this
city ​​to go to Melbourne when, the day before my departure,
I met Robert, a childhood friend that I had not seen
since we left college.

- I'll take you, he said, after giving me a vigorous
hug.

-- Or this?

- At home, in Robertville, on the banks of the Macquarie.

I let myself be easily carried away, and, eight days later,
I was installed in the home of my friend, Robert, who had
lost his parents very young, had come to seek his fortune in
Australia; he had engaged in the breeding of cattle, modestly
first, but each year increasing the number of herds
and the extent of its pastures. Now sixty bushmen
guarded in immense plains his innumerable herds of
oxen and sheep; Robert had become one of the richest
breeders of the region ...

Her house, a pretty dwelling surrounded by smaller accommodation
for his servants, rose not far from the river, in a
bouquet of eucalyptus and tree ferns.

I had been there for a fortnight and I was thinking of leaving, when the
hunting party organized by my friend came to disturb all my
projects.

However, we still galloped in a beautiful plain, where
the grass grew tall and thick; from time to time, we would see
a flock of sheep guarded by a bushman on horseback; he
would come running, bridle down, to greet the master, and give him
news of the beasts.

At noon, we stopped at a farm belonging to a
Irishman, Mr O'Ryan, who lived there with, Mrs O'Ryan, his wife,
and a dozen fresher, more rosy and more blond toddlers
as each other.

After a hearty meal and an hour of rest, we resumed
our race through a fertile and wooded land, but
absolutely deserted.

- We will not see any more houses before the return, had told me
Robert on leaving O'Ryan's farm; it is the last
establishment in that direction.

On the other hand, the country was becoming more rugged; here and there,
rocks stood in the tufts of mimosas and the high
ferns; the plain followed an inclined plane, now very
sensitive, and a dark line of mountains rose before us,
cutting the horizon.

At five o'clock we were at the foot of these hills, which
Aussie call Ranges, and we were definitely stopping
in front of high rocks, covered by vegetation
vigorous.

One of the bushmen, sent to scout, went to visit a
crevice of the rock, which, from the point where we stood, seemed
the entrance to a cave; my friend wanted us to settle there
our camp.

From a distance, on our horses, we saw the man advancing with
precaution; suddenly he stopped and considered a long
object placed at his feet.

After a moment, he came back to us.

-- Well? Robert asked.

"No way to camp there," replied the bushman; it's a real
mass grave; there are many bones, and among others a large
skeleton....

"Some kanguroo injured by a clumsy hunter, who will have come
die in this cave, interrupted the other bushman. Let's camp
in the woods, sir, it will be better.

And returning to the woods, we reached a clearing, which was
chosen unanimously to establish our camp there. The bushmen
rid the horses of their saddles, restrained them in
tying them a hind foot to the front foot of the same side,
in order to allow them to walk without being able to
move away; Tom, the negro, began to prepare the meal.

After dinner Robert and I stretched out on a blanket at the foot
of a large eucalyptus tree, smoke quietly while talking about the
France, of our mutual friends; and, my faith, by reminding us of our
young years and those we had known and loved, we
were not far from softening us; I found it useful to give a
another turn to the conversation.

- Will you tell me now, Robert what kind of game we come from
hunt in these solitudes?

- Yes, my friend, I wanted to give you the pleasure of a hunting
the opossum.

- Skinny prey, if I believe what I read in the books
of natural history.

- We hunt what we can, my dear.

- It is certain that in terms of game, Australia leaves
to desire.

- You are right, and we must admit, resumed Robert, laughing, that
Australia is a singular country, this big island too
vast than a continent, placed at the antipodes of Europe and which
in many ways simulates an inverted world. When I entered
for the first time in the interior, that I visited the regions
which form the limit of this province, I remained positively
amazed in front of these giant trees whose bushy tops do not
no shade, because their leaves are vertical; in front of these
huge ferns which form real woods. But it's
especially the fauna of this region which overturned all my notions
of natural history.

- Imagine, in the plains, bands of kanguroos which
proceed by leaps instead of running and carry their young
in a pocket; ostriches, which they call here emus, covered
hair, instead of wearing feathers like their peers
from Africa; on the edge of rivers and lakes, mammals
amphibious, with an otter body and a duckbill; this is
the platypus. In the forests, parrots the size of
canaries, shrill and talkative, and on the trees, quadrupeds,
possums.

- The very ones we are going to hunt, and who are the only
game from Australia.

- Yes, my dear, Australia pushes originality to the point of not
to have game. No partridges whose loud and fast flight
emit dogs and hunters; no quail leaving heavily
under the feet, and offering themselves ten times to the shots of the shooter
clumsy; no hare trotting in the plain in the morning,
when the dew puts a diamond on each blade of grass; nothing at all
that.

“Beasts; where would they live? The immense, wild and
sorry that should serve as their haunts dry up after
the rainy season; the scorched and stunted grass no longer offers
animals no food. Herbivores die of hunger and
thirsty, carnivores would not have their raison d'être.

- But, we hunt the kanguroo, the emu?

- Yes, although their numbers have diminished, the rich settlers
English hunt them with hounds, with packs and biters; they
find in this pursuit some of the emotions of
great European hunts; but the only game that everyone
hunting is the possum.

"For us; it is a pleasant pastime; for the bushman, it is
an industry, he sells the skin of the animal, often very expensive: a
small rug made with the remains of a Tasmanian opossum is worth
from two hundred to two hundred and fifty francs. The settlers, them, the
destroy to protect their orchards and vegetable gardens, because this
rodent wreaks considerable havoc there; he is very fond of
fruits and vegetables. The natives hunt him out of necessity: his
flesh, is a treat for those starving.

- And, despite this war, we still find some?

- Yes, my friend, they are very numerous, reproduce in
quantities and are not far from inhabited regions.

- But what kind of animal is it? What is her color?

- There are several species, which differ among themselves by
the size, and especially the coat: in Tasmania, they are brown;
in Queensland, greyish; here they have a tawny tint with
the underside of the belly light gray.

However, night had come; the moon's shining disc
rose on the horizon, and the wood where we were camped was
plunged into a delicious silence.

Robert, shaking the ashes from his pipe, stood up.

- Come on, hunting, here is the hour.

- How, on the hunt? So is it night? ...

- Certainly, the opossum is a night owl, it never leaves its
retreat that evening; all day he sleeps and rests from
his wanderings of the night.

Robert hissed the dogs, ordered one of the bushmen to stay
with the negro guarding the bivouac, and, accompanied by the other
man, we went into the woods. In front of us, Nero and Trim
begged at the foot of large trees, sniffing the ground and walking
their black snouts on the smooth bark of eucalyptus trees.

- You know, Robert told me, that the opossum is only shot with a bullet,
to damage the skin as little as possible. Now silence
follow the dogs.

For a moment Trim and Nero had been begging more earnestly.
Néro, above all, showed obvious signs of satisfaction,
to judge at least by the violent way in which he wagged his tail;
after having repeatedly bypassed a large trunk, smooth and even
up to more than fifteen meters from the ground, where a large branch
formed the fork, he stopped resolutely, his nose in the air, the
ears pulled forward, motionless; his eyes, which shone
in the shadows like carbuncles, were fixed on the
mistress branch. With a finger, Robert indicated a strong point
confused, and motioned for me to shoot.

"I can't see anything," I whispered.

- There, he said to me.

And he always showed me the fork of the tree.

Impatient no doubt by my lack of insight, he shrugged
disdainfully his shoulders, and, adjusting the place he had me
designated, fired.

An animal the size of a large hare fell at the foot of the tree;
he was not quite dead and was shaking violently on the
ground; Nero approached, but he kept a respectful distance;
me; I rushed to pick up the victim.

Robert held me back.

"Don't touch it," he cried; you would have your hand cut off;
the opossum has terrible teeth. See, Nero does not dare take it.

Finally, the poor beast breathed its last, and Robert put it back
in the hands of the bushman, then we continued our hunt.

I admit that I was a little confused by my clumsiness. All in
advancing in the woods, I promised myself to see more clearly another
times. As soon as I saw Trim or Néro stop at the foot of a tree,
I widened my eyes and I wanted so much to see a
opossum huddled on a branch, that, fatigue and desire
helping, I now saw where there was none.

Absorbed in my research, I walked slowly, and my
two companions very quickly passed me; dogs, who without
doubt judged me too poor a hunter to remain at my
service, Robert and the Bushman had followed, and I continued
to walk with your nose in the air.

Finally, I seemed to clearly distinguish something moving
the end of a branch that extended perpendicularly and
was going to join an old dead tree, the top of which was broken;
I watched a few more moments, and, my faith, on the off chance
I adjusted the object and fired.

Nothing fell; but I did not see the animal flee.

- Come on, I said to myself: I see possums or there aren't any.

And I was about to walk away when I thought I saw a body
hanging from this same branch.

I called Robert, and told him about my surprise. He looked at me in
laughing.

"But you killed him," he said to me; only he did not fall; he
was able to hang on to the twig by the gripping tail whose nature
gifted him, like some monkeys, and he's here for a long time.

For a moment I thought Robert was laughing at me; but it was necessary
face the facts: a moonbeam now lit up
right in the place where we were, and I could see perfectly
my victim suspended by the tail, head down.

Robert laughed at my crestfallen expression.

- Come on, my good, do not be sorry, we will have it, your possum.

He called the bushman.

- Dick, come and help my friend out.

- There are two ways, answered the bushman after measuring
the eye the height and size of the tree: climb ...

- You don't think about it; my brave! I say to this man; to climb
after that smooth trunk that five people could barely
to kiss!

Dick looked at me.

- Yes well! Sir, climb this tree; but it would be long,
and we have an easier way.

- And which one?

- Cut the tail of the beast with a ball.

-- Well! try, Dick, 'said Robert,' he's a shrewd shooter,
added my friend, turning to me.

The old Bushman seemed flattered by this compliment; he stepped back
a few steps and slowly adjusted the beast; the blow went off, and
Nero rushed to the opossum which had just fallen.

- No more difficult than that, said the bushman, reloading his
musket; the tail is cut flush with the branch.

I congratulated him warmly, and, with joy, I examined the prey
which had almost escaped me.

When we got back to the camp, it was one in the morning; we
brought back seven possums, two of which were killed by me.

My first care, the next day when I woke up, was to examine
our hunt. The possums that I had there in front of me were
the size of a strong hare; the heaviest weighed about eight to
ten pounds. The coat was tawny brown and full; the underside
body and inside of legs, light gray; the tail, too
long than the rest of the body, was trimmed, above, with long
hairs, underneath, absolutely bare; this is probably what allows
to the opossum to use it to hang on or support itself; the
legs, of unequal size, the front ones a little shorter
than those behind, were armed with long claws and
sharp. The slender head, the pointed nose, the very large eyes and
surmounted by a light brown spot which in dogs are called:
fire. This peculiarity led to it being named: four-eyed, in
some parts of South America, where it is very abundant.
In summary, this charming little animal seemed to me to be part of
the family of sarigues and kanguroos and, therefore, be a
marsupiau.

I was there in my observations, when Robert comes to me
rejoin.

- Take a look at the jaw of this beast, he said to me and you
see, if I was right to warn you against his
bites.

I noticed, in fact, that, for its size, the opossum is gifted
of a powerful and solidly constituted jaw: the teeth are
many, the front ones long and sharp and very capable
to inflict cruel wounds on the reckless hunter.

- You see, my dear, this animal is of a very gentle nature; But
he is like many others: when we attack him he defends himself;
wounded and cornered, he uses the weapons that nature has given him
and plays conscientiously, teeth and claws; when they do
take them alive, the natives know what is cooking them.

- Are they really taking him alive?

- Sometimes; when they find the traces of a hidden family
in a tree hollow, they try to seize it, because, despite
its little flavor, the flesh of the opossum is considered by
Australians like a delicacy.

- I would be really curious to see that.

- The thing is not impossible; I'm going to consult my old man
Dick, who knows the country admirably, he will be able to tell me if, at
a few hours of walking west, we have the chance to
meet real Australians; I know there are sometimes
in this region.

Dick had just returned to camp; after accompanying us, he
had returned to continue the hunt alone, which he had found too
short and too unsuccessful.

At this time, sitting on an upturned eucalyptus trunk in the center of
the clearing, his rifle between his legs, four magnificent
possums dead at his feet - his night hunt - he was eating
under the thumb a huge piece of bread and bacon. His hat
thrown back let see his rough and energetic head; he
looked great as well, and showed off the perfect type of the bushman
and the coureur des bois. I held back Robert, who was heading towards
him, and taking my notebook out of my pocket, I took the sketch of
old Dick.

When I was done, Robert and I walked over to him.

`` Do you know, '' said the master, `` if, while walking towards the west,
we would be lucky to find a tribe?

- Yes, sir; I saw their lights this morning when I got home;
they must be on the edge of the cove that bears my name.

- Little River Dick? but, then, we have to shoot a
little south.

- Yes well, sir, and if they haven't moved this morning without
drums or trumpets, in two hours we will be at their
camp.

- Let's have lunch quickly, then, on horseback.

An hour later, accompanied only by the old bushman, we
Robert and I set out in search of the Australians.

We had barely walked an hour in the woods, when Trim and Néro
rushed forward, giving voice.

Robert immediately called them back.

- It's the savages! whispered Dick, lifting himself up on his
stirrups.

He had put in this word "savage" such a profound intonation.
contemptuously I couldn't help but look at him.

- Dick doesn't seem to like savages, I said softly to
Robert.

- No, he has a certain boomerang story in his heart that
happened to him with them, and in which his self-esteem of
shooter was put to a great test; I'll tell you that.

- Boomerang, you say? but this instrument therefore still exists in
Australia?

- Certainly, and it is even the only serious weapon that
the natives; you can judge later.

At this moment, we saw three natives stopped a few
meters from us. They had the most miserable aspect: almost
naked, covered only with a sort of cloak of animal skin; than
I later learned to be a kanguroo skin, long hair and
hiding their forehead, the lower part of the face covered with a beard
shaggy; I said to myself, looking at these sick men, with
slender limbs, protruding belly, stupid and dazed look that
old dick wasn't entirely wrong in calling them
wild. Each of them held in their hand a long spear, finished
at its lower part by two small branches forming the
fork; from their belt hung a piece of wood a little
curved.

Robert took a few steps forward and motioned to the natives.
to approach. Dick, who had long lived among them and
understood their language, agreed to act as our interpreter.

He explained to them what we expected from them, and my friend made them
promise that not only would their hunt be their property,
but that he would add three more of the possums killed during the
night.

The proposal was accepted with enthusiasm; and immediately
the men set out on the hunt; we followed them on horseback not by
not.

Suddenly, one of the natives stops in front of a eucalyptus
nice size, look at the bark with careful attention,
step back, measure the height of the trunk with your eye, and begin to dance
like a crazy.

- Opossum! he finally cried with a throaty accent.

At this exclamation, the other two approach, examine
bark in their turn, and, in the same tone, repeat the cry of their
comrade, then one of the two runs wildly into the
direction of his tribe.

Old Dick dismounts, and he too goes to examine the
trunk.

- Who proves to you that he is there? he asks the native.

Without answering, he shows him a few grains of sand
left in the imprint of the claws.

-- But where is he? I asked in turn.

"In the trunk," Robert replied.

- And where did he get in?

The Australian to whom Dick translates this question shows us
finger a large round hole the width of a plate, located
forty feet from the ground.

However, the second native did not remain inactive; he cut
young tree branches, tied them, braided them and made them
a sort of liana that he passes around the trunk, then, seizing
his ax, he cuts through the bark, a yard above the ground. In four
blows, it shapes a rough step, just the place to rest
toe, climbing and maintains it by means of the liana, to
which he makes follow the same upward movement, and makes
a second notch one meter above the first takes
then his ax with the left hand, is maintained with the right hand
and make a third step; and, so on, changing
with both hand and foot, sometimes to shape its scale and to
climb above.

This way of climbing the Australian giants, seemed strong to me
ingenious, and I admit that after this feat, the savages
won singularly in my esteem.

When he reached the opening of the hole, the man put his arm through
opening; but he could not reach the bottom of the cavity; so,
sticking his mouth to the skylight, he spoke for a moment to the
possums, probably conjuring them to come and get caught; But
as the animals remained deaf to his prayer, he hastened to
go back down.

His companion probably guessed his intentions, for he began to
in search of a stone that he hands to the man, who goes up immediately,
while the one below leans his ear against
the tree. Once again at the top, the native drops the
stone, which makes a dull sound when reaching the bottom of the
eucalyptus; the one who is on the ground marks the place and, helped by
his companion who comes down, both attack the tree, a little
above, with an ax.

However, the savage who fled at the start of the operation,
returns followed by about twenty individuals, men, women and
children; two of them carry burning embers. Without even
watch out for us, they collect dry branches and
light a big fire a few meters from the tree that
still the axes of the two hunters.

After about an hour's work, the bark is pierced and
lets see a gaping hole, large enough to pass the
arms. One of the natives plunges his hand into the cavity; shouts
treble are heard; possums, because they are there a whole
family, are stabbed and one after the other,
eight corpses came out of the hole. As they get to
land, a native grabs them by the tail, swings them for a moment
and sends them into the midst of the brazier kindled by the women; after
rough cooking, they remove them charred and eat them
by tearing them apart; this meal is disgusting to see.

"It seems to me that enough is enough," I said to Robert; if we
let's go! ...

- And the boomerang! he answers me.

Dick then resumes his role of interpreter, and invites three of the
men to follow us to our camp to receive the possums
promised, then, escorted by the natives, we take over the
from the bivouac.

Along the way, I ask Robert the story of Dick and the
boomerang.

- When you will have seen with what address these savages use
of this instrument.

Arrived at the camp, Robert gave the three possums, and promised
three more to the natives, if they wanted to give us a
specimen of their skill in handling this weapon; they accepted.

So we went after them in search of a goal
any.

The one who appeared to be the most vigorous of the three savages had to
He had barely gone a hundred paces before he stopped and motioned for us to imitate him.
Then he pointed to a bunch of these big parrots,
called cockatoos, which fluttered on top of a taller tree
forty feet. The man, taking the piece of wood passed to his
belt that I had already noticed, walked slowly up to
twenty yards from the tree, threw his instrument, following a
horizontal line, two feet from the ground. The weapon thus traversed a
space of fifteen to eighteen meters; then suddenly, having touched the
earth, she got up at a right angle, climbed to the top of
tree, cut down two cockatoos and, describing a parable, came
fall at the feet of man.

I admit that my first impulse was to rub my eyes for
to know if I was wide awake; then I picked up the boomerang
to see if it did not contain some mysterious mechanism
responsible for regulating its course, but nothing.

I had in my hands only a simple piece of wood, hard and
compact, though flexible, and slightly curved in the middle; her
length was two feet five inches (65 centimeters), its
width of two inches (6 cent.), and its thickness of two
centimeters; one end is swollen and rounded; the other, at
contrary, is quite flat.

In order to get a good idea of ​​the boomerang movement, I prayed
the native to throw it again, anywhere, aimlessly.

The man grasps the weapon with full hand by the big end, the part
convex outwards, then, turning it overhead,
threw it with all its force in front of him.

However, when it was time to let it escape, he printed it out, with
the wrist, a rapid rotational movement.

The boomerang went off, and, like the first time, after
touched down, came up in a straight line, with speed and
supernatural precision, and then returned to the one who had
launched.

I wanted to buy a boomerang but the natives refused
absolutely to sell me.

In the evening, while waiting for the time to have a second night of hunting
at the opossum, where I hoped to be happier than the first time,
Robert told me Dick's story.

- This good boy, he said to me, had seen the
natural use the boomerang; but he could only believe that
this piece of wood, "savages" were able to reach a
drank as well as he did with his ball. So he challenged them and was
always defeated.

"One day, however, a native told him, that if he, Dick,
wanted to go and stand ten meters behind him, he would throw the
boomerang forward, reach a specific goal, and that
coming back, he would go and strike Dick in the chest.

"My old bushman laughs a lot at the pretension of the 'savage' and
resolutely accepted his proposal. Standing, a few steps away,
back, arms crossed over chest, with tranquility
of a sure man, he waited ... not long.

"The savage took his measurements at a glance, said his
boomerang, and the piece of wood, after hitting the goal
designated, returned with such velocity, such a sinister noise that
my poor dick would have come out of this cracked experience of all
sides and broken chest, if he had not swiftly and carefully
threw his nose into the grass.

"He did not ask for his rest, but, he never forgave the
"Savages" address them to the boomerang.

- This instrument possesses a prodigious force.

-- Yes my friend; when it is thrown by a skillful hand, one is
amazed by the overwhelming effects of this simple piece of wood
which, under the impulse of a minimal initial force, accelerates
himself his velocity, breaks like glass the leg of a vigorous
horse, throws his man on the floor, or, climbing
perpendicularly according to the hunter's intention, thrust strike
and size, from ricochet to ricochet, whatever is on
his way.

- It's really astonishing, and I wonder by what chance,
by what intuition, savages of a degree of civilization
tiny have been able to discover an instrument that is both so uncomplicated
and of such power of action that all modern science has
hardly realize it.

That night the hunt was even more beautiful than the first, and
for my part I was particularly favored; besides four
possums fallen under my bullets, I had the chance to witness
of a family scene which alone would have consoled me for the
empty-handed, if that had been my fate.

As was my custom, I had strayed from my companions. Arrested at
foot of a tree with a broken head, at the top of which it seemed to me
to see something stir, I soon made out a whole family
possums who were probably leaving retirement to go in search of
of his meal. The mother was advancing gently on the branch,
rounding her tail above her back on all fours, she
clung to the rough edges of the bark; while his little ones
doing roughly the same movement, clinging in turn
on their mother's back and clung to their tail, to the tail
helping hand that was extended to them.

The moon lit them in full, and with a bullet I could have put
end to this intimate scene; but I admit that I didn't feel it
courage; I silenced my hunting instincts and let
this mother and her cubs quietly continue their walk.

The next day, after resting from our two nights of hunting,
we took the road to Robertville, where I still stayed
A few days. But we finally had to part: I couldn't wait
rest, to return to France, and one fine morning, I resumed
road to Sidney, taking from my friend Robert, from old Dick, who
absolutely wanted to give me, prepared by him, the opossum skin to
the tail cut off by his bullet, the best memory.

Since then, I have done many hunts, more moving and more
dangerous than that of Australia; but, is it because I
was doing in the company of a good friend? I always remember with
pleasure my opossum hunt.