Rensselaer Republican, Volume 13, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 August 1881 — ACQUAINTANCES MADE IN A SHOWER. [ARTICLE]

ACQUAINTANCES MADE IN A SHOWER.

Learning Something of the Peculiarities of Three Curious Pets. N. Y. San. “Look out for Dusty,” said the onearmed proprietor of a four-by-ten booth' that stands at the head of the long bridge leading from the 155th street station to Washington Heights. The reporter had been driven to its shelter by the storm that passed over on the Fourth, and had accidently touched a tame crow that was perched on the round of a chair, and thereupon became the object of attack from the aforesaid Dusty, who was a Bkye terrier of the ing, “and any one that touches Pete has to look out.” “He is a queer one, sure enough,” chimed in a hack man, who,tipped back in a chair, was unconsciously eating cherries from a basket labelled “five cents a pint,' and throwing the seeds at the crow. <

The latter gravely hopped down from its perch, uttered a curious croak, danced around a stone with wings bristling like a fcen, then, picking one up, crept behind the friendly hackman in the most cunning manner possible, and deftly inserted the pit into the crease of his trowsers that were turned up at the bottom. “Oh, no! he ain’t cunnin’, not at all,” the man continued, pretending not to see the bird, and tossing down more oherry stones. The bird pioked up one and then another, depositing tnem in the same Elace, until, the hackman seeming to ave recovered from his fit of abstraction, the supply ceased, and the bird solemnly hopped on Dusky’s back, crowing like a cock, squeakiog like a hen, and ending with a prolonged howl that made the dog priok up his ears as if he had not been fooled time and again in the same manner. “What do you keep, a museum or a ‘restaurant?” the mystified reporter asked as his eye caug it the solemn coantenance of an ewl perched on a candy jar. “Well,” the man said laughing, “I’m fond of animals of all kinds. This orow and owl a friend of mine caught up at King’s bridge, and I’ve got ’em so they seem to know about as much as the ordinary run of people. Dusty and. Pete made friends right off. The crow sleeps by him at night, and when the dog’s a lay in’ in the aust here, the bird will stand on him and kill flies.”

“That is kind,” the reporter interrupted. “Yes, only after he kills them he stows ’em away In the dog’s ear, and makes him so deaf he wouldn’t hear one of these torpedoes fired off right alongside of him; but he don’t seem to mind it. He’ll lie down here and pretend to sleep, and these ere sparrows will come around, a whole lot of them, after the crumbs and cherries and bits that the crow bides in the sand, and when they get right near he’ll go for ’em. ' He!s caught two, aud the other day the crow grabbed one and ate it up. They’re at him now.” Dusty was lying in the street, and a few venturesome sparrows were edging gradually toward him. Finally, one hopped almost on to his tail, and with a yell he darted at it, chasing the whole flock far away, and almost nabbing one by an astonishing jump into the air.

“I never heard of but one dog before,” eaid another looker-on, * “that would catch birds, and he was owned by Mr. Tom Spence, and kept on his country place, up near Germantown. He was a great hand at catching swallows, ami every evening he used to go off the wain road and lay for them. They fly law, aud:, I don’t know whether you ever noticed it, thgy seem to see how near t bey can edrae to you without striking.. They tried this on Tom Spence’s dog. but when he saw one coming he would start int he same direction, and, as the swallow skimmed by; would aprioir into the air and grab it. He would do it time and again, and just for the sport, for he never ate them.”

The story seemed marvellous, out the reporter readily credited it, being the fortunate possessor of a foxhound who had developed remarkable talent iu the way of catching hens, either on the fly, from the roost, or,in a fair out and out stern chase. “There’s a friend of mine,’’continued the owner of the place, pointing to a small hole ju3t outside the canvas covering, by a stump, from which looked a very ordinary toad. “He’s only a toad, but he’s no slouch;” tossing a fly at him- “Now, you see he lives in a hole that seems to go down into the ground, and after a shower like this you’d think he’d be drowned out, wouldn’t you?” The reporter admitted such convictions.

“Well, now, that’s just where you make a mistake. If any one knows anything about drainage that toad does. He ought to be on the Board of Health.”. After enticing the toad from his retreat he continued, “Now just examine that hole with your finger and see if I’m not right.” By thrusting his finger in the orfice the philosophy of the toad became evident to the writer. The hole proper ran in and down when probed with a stick about a foot, and the bottom was full of water, the effects of the recent flood. “A toad couldn't stay there,” continued the man; “they don’t like water. Now. feel the uppsr part of the entrance.” Following his directions,* the writer found that about four inches from the opening was a passage that led up, and was enlarged into a small shelf, and there the toad could sit and watch the water as it ran in and down under it In to the blind lead or well it had prepared for the purpose. “I tell you,” the proprietor contintued, “it makes a man think when hB sees a common animal like that show so much sense. I know fifty men right on the Heights that ain’t up to that dodge about their own houses. ”

loads and frogs are objects of considerable curiosity, notwithstanding they are so common. They disappear so effectually at the approach of cold weather that they are never found until they come out in the string time. A pond in the woods at 159th street, High Bridge side, is a famous place for frogs, and at the time of a visit the young were leaving the water,a perfect realization of the old Egyptian plague, as far as numbers went. Thousands of them, about half an inch long, jumped aside and could have been swept up in heaps. The amount of croaking they will produce by August will be a pleasant problem for the dwellers around the place to work out. Recently a laborer near the bridge found several toads burrowed into the solid rock their story, and they evidently believed it. Bnt the fallacy of this isshown in the interesting exEirfments made' by Rev. William uckland. He took a dozen frogs, weighed them, and placed them in holes drilled in limestone, and the holes were covered with glass lids cemented with clav. and the glass proby statealso cemenTeawna \siaj . Twelve were treated in the same Way in a block of compact sandstone, and another lot vere placed in holes drilled in the tronkS4>ft roes. At the end of a year they were examined. Those in the wood were dead and partly decayed as were those int he sandstone. About half of those inti mestone wereli vmg, and of these all but two had lost weight and two had increased in weight. Hie cement closing the cell of one of these was cracked so that small insects .may have found their way into it and served as food; and although no crack could be found in the Sell of the second it was probably fed in the same way as in a third cell, also without any discoverable crack, in which the frog wea

dead, severe! small insects were found. The living frogs were doeed up again, and at the end of the second year all were dead. The frogs were examined frequently during their confinement

by removing the date without disturbing the giass,and in all coses the living on»* were found not torpid, but awake and active. Lovers of frogs’ legs will be happy to learn that the remains of a fossil creature, very like our frog,have been found that must have been as large as an elephant,and could have jumped thirty feet. The pipings of this primeval monster can perhaps be Imagined.