I would gladly ascribe these massacres to the peculiar cravings often
provoked by pregnancy. The future mother is suspicious and intolerant;
to her everything is an enemy, to be got rid of by eating it, when
strength permits. And indeed, when the quickly emancipated family is
born, in the middle of August, a profound peace reigns in the
menagerie. My vigilance is unable to surprise a single case of these
outbreaks of cannibalism which used to occur so often.
On the other hand, the males, indifferent to the safety of the family,
know nothing of these tragic frenzies. They are peaceful creatures,
blunt in their manners, but in any event incapable of ripping up their
fellows. We never see two rivals disputing in mortal combat, for the
possession of the coveted bride. Things happen, if not mildly, at least
without blows of the dagger.
Two suitors come upon the same Scorpioness. Which of the two will
propose to her and take her for a walk? The point will be decided by
strength of wrist.
Each takes the beauty by the hand nearest to him with the fingers of
one claw. One standing on the right, the other on the left, they pull
with all their might in opposite directions. The legs, braced
backwards, exert a powerful leverage; the flanks quiver; the tails sway
to and fro and suddenly dart forward. Now for it! They tug at the
Scorpioness by fits and starts with sudden backward runs; it is as
though they meant to pull her in two and each to carry off a piece. A
declaration of love implies a threat to rend her asunder.
On the other hand, there is no direct exchange of fisticuffs between
them, not even a back-hander with the tail. Only the victim is
ill-treated and roughly at that. To see these lunatics struggling, you
would think that their arms would be torn out. Nevertheless, there are
no dislocations.
Weary of an ineffectual contest, the two competitors at last take each
other by the hands that remain at liberty: they form a chain of three
and resume the process of jerking and tugging more violently than ever.
Each of them bustles to and fro, advances, recoils and pulls his
hardest till he is exhausted. Suddenly, the more fatigued of the two
throws up the sponge and runs away, leaving his adversary in possession
of the object of their passions so vehemently disputed. Then, with his
free claw, the victor completes the team and the stroll begins. As for
the vanquished, we will not trouble about him: he will soon have found
something in the crowd to make amends for his confusion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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