The Strange Adventures of a PebbleHawksworth, Hallam
Science
The Strange Adventures of a Pebble
Hawksworth, Hallam
Geology -- Juvenile literature; Physical geography -- Juvenile literature
This desert beetle is called by the Indians
"The-Bug-that-Stands-on-His-Head." At first I thought he was taking
stomach exercises, for beetles have wonderful digestions, as you
may learn from Fabre's book on "The Sacred Beetle." But Mr. Howard,
Chief of the Bureau of Entomology at Washington--Uncle Sam's great
authority on bugs--tells me this is an attitude many beetles take
on the approach of an enemy, the object being to discharge a kind
of poison-gas which is intended to drive him away; and usually does.
]
WHAT A WONDERFUL FLYING MACHINE HE IS!
But what's that away up in the sky? A flying machine? Yes, one of the
most wonderful flying-machines in the world--a vulture. There he goes,
sweeping in wide circles, as he hunts along the mountain range, mile
after mile, closely scanning the base of the cliffs for the bodies of
unfortunate creatures that have fallen over. Vultures will keep in the
air in that way whole days at a time, following the cliffs and canyons
for hundreds of miles. But for all that it is sometimes a week or two
between meals with a desert vulture.
How does the vulture soar so wonderfully? Nobody is quite sure about
it. Often for hours there is no motion of the wings, as far as anybody
has been able to make out, and a soaring vulture seems to be able to
move as easily against the wind as with it. You'll not be surprised
to hear that it takes time to learn to fly like that--a whole year.
And even after the first year the young vultures stay for a good while
under the instruction of their parents, going out hunting with them
every day and sleeping with them in the nest on the cliffs at night.
V. A Day in the Sahara
How would you like to spend a day in the famous Sahara desert with the
camels and the people and the dogs; and, I was going to say, the flies?
But the flies can't stand it. They stay in the villages on the borders.
Only a few are ever bold enough to start with a caravan and these soon
turn back.
When a desert Arab and his family start on a journey the tents, the
sleeping-rugs, the scanty provisions, and the women and children are
piled on the camels, the dogs take their places at the end of the
procession and the men at the head, and the caravan starts.
As the chieftain throws the end of the burnoose (his hooded cloak)
across his shoulder and, with his carbine in the hollow of his arm,
stalks in advance of all, you feel that if you were an Arab boy you
would be as proud as he is to have a father like that. What a splendid
figure; what a strong, grave, handsome face, and utterly without fear!
All his poor possessions would hardly pay a month's rent in a fine city
apartment, but he has the proud bearing of a king. He looks as if he
had just stepped out of a picture in a Bible story-book.
[Illustration: ALL IN THE DAY'S WORK!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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