Page:Hardwicke's Science-Gossip - Volume 1.pdf/219

presents by the Colonna princes. They generally bring forth three or four at a time, and the little ones are, of course, uncovered by fur, being usually quite blind, and remaining so for a few days after birth.

It frequents woods and thick hedges, building an almost round nest, lining it with moss and dead leaves, and placing it in the hollow of a tree, or at the root of some thick shrub; it will sometimes take possession of a deserted hedge-sparrow's nest, and this it will make its home, and will form a magazine of nuts, acorns, beans, &c., on which to subsist during the inclement season of winter. When this period of the year comes round, it retires to its prepared abode, and, having provided itself with a good store of food, will roll itself up into a ball, similar to the marmots, and fall into a torpid or lethargic state till winter is over, and when the more genial sunshine of spring causes the buds and flowers to burst forth in all their beauty, the little Dormouse may be sometimes seen sporting about on the boughs of the willow or the hazel, eating the catkins which are then in their prime, rejoicing with all nature at the return of warm weather. It was formerly believed that this state of hybernation was a continual profound sleep, extending from the period of retirement in the fall of one year to the commencement of spring in the next; but this absurd notion was very properly exposed by Buffon, and the error may be observed by any one who will keep and watch a dormouse through the long winter months, from the fact that it will occasionally wake up, and having satiated itself from the food that, if in captivity, must always be kept in readiness in its cage, but which, if in the wild state, it will have stored up,—it will speedily fall asleep again as fast as ever.

As regards its instinct, this little animal seems to be warned by nature not to venture out during the day, in search of food, since, by so doing, it would run the risk of falling a prey to hawks, owls, stouts, and such-like creatures, which, as the ancient Romans were, are very fond of them; and I think from the fact of their large, black, prominent eyes, which are rarely or never seen to blink, being so sensitive to strong lights, together with their wonderfully acute sense of smell, we can rightly conclude that they were originally intended by the Divine Creator to be nocturnal feeders. I do not mean to convey that they never do come out and feed by day, because I know instances where they have been seen (my father himself caught one regaling itself on the catkins of the hazel on a fine day in early spring); but that as a general rule you will find that they remain concealed during the day, and at night emerge from their hiding-places to take their food.

When I first imprisoned a Dormouse, some years ago, I knew little or nothing about it. I fed it with food which I now perceive to have been wholly unfitted for it, and I am convinced that the chief reason of the sickly appearance and subsequent death of my little captive, was the style of food, and the limited supply I gave it, for I had then no idea of its enormous digestive powers, or of the variety and quantity it requires. At the present time, however, I have three, lodged in a tolerably spacious cage, fitted with sticks placed in various positions, on which they sport and gambol very prettily indeed. They rarely or never come out during the day, although they have no enemy to fear; but as soon as it grows dark, one by one they creep out of their nest and search for the food they most enjoy. I give them a variety every night, of such things as wheat, hawthorn-berries, familiarly known as "haws," with nuts or almonds. Of the nuts they cat as many as eight or ten during the night, gnawing with their teeth a singularly round hole in them, and entirely cleaning out the contents. I have noticed, too, that if they do not make a symmetrical hole, there is generally something the matter with them. I cannot help thinking this is rather curious. Of the almonds they always eat ten, and sometimes as many as twelve. Besides the above dry food I give them each night a dandelion or a sow-thistle, the milky juice of which they like very much; you may, in fact, vary their supply greatly; any vegetable they are fond of, peas and beans especially; and I am certain, from the experience I have now had, that the more you do vary the supply the happier and the more contented will your mice be in their captivity. I sometimes take mine out of their cage, feed them from my hand, and put in their way butter and milk; and the avidity with which they seize on these articles is very amusing. During the last winter session, I had a pair with me in town, and after I had finished tea one evening, I let one out: it discovered a box of sardines, or rather where sardines had been, for luckily I had finished them, as my mouse was into the oil before I could look round, and it lapped up a good deal before I took it out. It made itself, as you may suppose, in a very deplorable state, and not till some time after, from its own exertions coupled with mine, did it become quite clean. I used to put it in my hand and gently rub its fur with a piece of flannel, and after I stopped, it would immediately begin working away with its tongue and feet, and at last it seemed to become so alive to my rubbing, as if it could understand why I was doing it—that it would continue its mode of procedure whilst I was using mine. I would not, however, advise the administration of this oil, as being beneficial to it, since I had to watch and feed my mouse very carefully for some days after the occurrence just stated, and at last I was rewarded by finding that it was getting over the bad effects produced by the oil; it recovered, and now, together with two others, which my brother brought from school last Christmas, it exists in the cage I mentioned above, the finest and fattest of the three.