Rabbit Yarn

THE angora rabbits owned by Mrs. Paul Venne of Penacook, New Hampshire work for their keep. They provide soft fur which she plucks instead of shears to prevent it from matting. This she spins into yarn and knits into such serviceable items as bonnets, berets, gloves and sweaters. And the bunnies don’t seem to mind a bit.

Deer Hunts Elephants

LITTLE-game hunter on a big scale is I Jack Deer, 55-year-old New York businessman. He has a collection of over 1,400 miniature elephants, all with upturned trunks. They are made of ivory, china and glass gathered from all countries of the world. His most prized is one owned by the late Flo Ziegfeld, also a collector.

NEW for the ZOO

Lemur, rarely seen in this country, was adopted by Harf Hoogstraal on recent expedition into Madagascar. Monkey-like creature has 14-inch tail, drinks beer and champagne, will aid medical research.

$2500 Pig is no common variety of pork-on-the-hoof; he’ll be going Hollywood, soon. Porky is four years old and was born with only two legs, but he has learned to use them well. Piggie’s sponsor is a California carnival man, Charles Simpson.

Pincushion is a spiny ant-eater or echidna, a rare egg-laying animal the St. Louis Zoo imported from Australia. It’s a first cousin of that queer duck, the platypus, the star boarder at the Bronx Zoo. Spiny, a foot-long female, carries her eggs in a “kangaroo” pouch till they hatch.

Deep-See Nightmare is what William Schroeder, head of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution’s fishing expedition, found when he hauled up this chimaera from a depth of 3000 ft. off New England. Only eight of this weird species of primitive sharks have been caught.

Strange Friendships Among Animals

When the lion lies down with the lamb—or maybe this cat and mouse really are on friendly terms and Pussy has no idea of following her natural bent. It’s a fact that surprising intimacies do spring up between animals born to be enemies and of course this may be a case of that kind. Still the mouse better watch his step and take no chances.

Here a matter of dividing a dinner with the chicks seems to find the cat undecided. It may amaze those not familiar with the ways of animals to see that the cat doesn’t take the chickens in place of the milk, but it’s a long time since kittie’s ancestors stalked the jungle for food.

This dachshund has chummed up with a baby pig and the two have become inseparable in spite of the fact that for centuries dogs and pigs have hated each other for no apparent reason. These two, laying aside the age-old grudge, are setting the others an excellent example.

What’s a chameleon, more or less, to a hard shelled old tortoise? If the little one is all tired out, and if speed is no object, he couldn’t do better than make use of the big, lumbering turtle. At times animals do seem to have kindly feelings toward each other. Note the likeness in the heads.

Not at all like cats and dogs are these pets feeding. Each appears likely to get a fair share of food, including the lamb, though it’s hard to say just how long the peace pact will last.

In general, instinct should make this rhinoceros hate the sight of an intruding deer, but this baby forgot its ancient animosity and consented to share its dinner with an enemy, though rhino obviously is occupying considerably more than half of the basin. It’s likely that hunger drove these two together and that after digesting their meals they’ll call off the truce and quarrel.

ACE TO THE RESCUE

THE old habit, in vogue when mother was a bathing beauty, of going to the beach to be rescued by a handsome lifeguard, is now out-of-date. Today’s pretty swimmer—at least, in California—trains the dog to do her rescuing.

Here you see Ace, a year-old Alsatian shepherd dog, who was trained to do all kinds of stunts for the movies, but who excels at pulling lovely young things out of the drink. All you have to do is scream for help—and Ace will do the rest.

Ace was trained by Earl Johnson, whose dogs have been famous for their movie manners, and it took him only two months to learn his life-saving duties. His father, however, was the famous movie canine, Lightning.

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our business is GOING TO THE DOGS

By Bob Swaner

I never realized until I joined the Navy what a problem it could be to keep a big dog supplied with good, nourishing food.

What has the Navy got to do with it? Well, I was an officer in the Shipbuilding Division of the Bureau of Ships, and my job kept me traveling a great deal. Of course I brought my family with me, including Tigue, our German Shepherd. He’s a real dog, tough and with the appetite of a lion. And there was my problem… feeding the critter.

Anyone who has a dog knows that a dog’s diet has to be kept pretty constant if the animal’s digestive system is to be kept up to par. New foods tend to throw the system all out of whack. Any changes of diet have to be introduced slowly. And here we were dashing from place to place meeting with some new brand of dog food in almost every different city. So a germ of an idea started to take hold… and I let it grow.

When I got out of the Navy I grabbed my brother Bill and we put our heads together. When we came up, there it was … the K-9 Food Service, catering to man’s best friend.

What we do is simple. We buy good meat, prepare it and deliver it, either fresh or frozen, to homes all over Westchester County.

We started with a small amount of capital from our savings, about $4,800. Our main trouble in those shortage-ridden days immediately after the war was to find the equipment we needed. We located a small butcher’s ice box to preserve the meat, a grinder, a meat block, cutting tools, and a delivery truck. All of them were used; we couldn’t get new stuff. This was a modest beginning, but it was sound. With that equipment we were able to start our business and set up our first routes.

We knew the people we had to sell to— dog owners. The first thing we did was to get a list of them from the license clerks in town and city halls in our area. Next we sent these people a circularized inquiry. We simply asked whether they would be interested in having fresh, government-inspected meat for their dogs delivered regularly at super-market prices. In other words, we had two appeals: economy and service. This was no frenzied sales appeal, but it was immediately plain that we were offering to fill a genuine need. The response was astonishing. Most direct mail campaigns are considered good if they draw as , much as two per cent in replies. We got nearly forty. There was no question but that our idea was sound.

We used personal canvassing, too, to find customers. Once a customer placed his order with us, his worries about feeding his pet were over; our truck delivered his dog’s food as often as twice a week if he wished.

Our first two years were the tough ones. We were getting business, but we needed more, for volume is required to furnish a real income. During those first years we slaved long hours. We had to do everything ourselves. We had to buy our meats, prepare them, deliver them to our customers and drum up new business. We worked out a lot of good selling techniques. Contacts with veterinarians and kennels were found particularly valuable. We sold to these at our regular prices, and they were so well satisfied that they sent us customers from their clients.

As we increased our business we began to expand. Our first expansion was financed by a G.I. loan, but once we really got rolling, we were able to finance all additional items from our profits.

Today, after five years in business, we have eight trucks, employ thirteen men besides ourselves, and feed more than 4,000 dogs. With new customers being added every month, we feel that we are far from the end of our expansion.

We buy only U. S. Government-inspected meat. The beef we get from the regular packers, and the horse meat comes from special horse meat packing houses. The meat is delivered boned, and we place it in the first cooler on hooks suspended from steel tracks overhead. It is put in through one door, and taken out through an exit door on the opposite end. As additional deliveries are made, the meat already in the cooler naturally is pushed back toward the exit door from which it is to be taken for .processing. This insures that the oldest meat (and we make certain we never have it more than three days) is used first.

We also sell a number of well-known standard brands of dog food, both dry and canned, including biscuits, meal, and so on.

We have just started a new promotion piece, a monthly bulletin which we call the “Growl.” It contains news of dog shows, articles on canine nutrition and other items of general interest to dog lovers.

Our business has its hazards, too. Every once in a while a route salesman will get bitten. To avoid trouble our men must know each one of their “customers” intimately.

For example, our route salesmen know all about Peter. He’s a huge St. Bernard. He never molests anyone approaching his house, but there’s only one way to leave! The salesman must put down his hand. Peter takes it in his mouth and gravely, gently escorts him to the gate. It’s the only way to deal with two hundred pounds of dog.

There are many areas in the United States which can make good locations for dog-food services. Conservative estimates of the canine population of the United States range between 17 and 20 million. That’s a lot of dogs, and they eat a lot of dog food. Try it with our blessing. We’re going to the dogs in Westchester, and have enough on our hands.

I, for one, welcome our new feline overlords.

Fighting Rats With Special Cats

AT a cat farm in Le Havre, France, scientists are attempting to breed new kinds of cats which will pursue and eat rats so eagerly that they can be used to help rid ships and cities of the hordes of rats which now infest them.

The modern cat has been ruined by centuries of ease and dependence on mankind. Thus the natural instinct of rat catching has been so weakened that the average cat now is not worth, as a rat fighter, cost of keeping the cat alive.

It is believed that this weakened instinct is still dormant in the cat race and that by breeding cats for this special purpose and by keeping alive out of each generation of kittens only those that show good rat-catching powers, a race of rat-catchers can be produced which will surpass anything now known.

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From Jungle to Zoo on the Wild Animal Trail

as told by FRANK BUCK
Famous Animal Collector

One of the most thrilling jobs in the world is that of Frank Buck, who captures wild animals for zoos all over the globe. He tells of some of his perilous experiences in this article. With Edward Anthony, he is author of “Bring ‘em Back Alive,” a fascinating book of his animal collecting adventures.

FOR eighteen exciting years I have been gathering live animals, reptiles and birds for the zoos, the circuses and dealers. I have brought back to America thousands of specimens. I have had more than my share of thrills, including narrow escapes from the fangs of venomous serpents and the claws of man-eating tigers.

One day not so long ago I was in the office of Dr. William T. Hornaday, then Director of the New York Zoological Park. After discussing some lesser assignments, Dr. Hornaday reopened a subject that had been close to his heart for some time. “Isn’t there any way we can secure an Indian rhinoceros?” he asked. “You know I’ve always wanted one.”

The Indian rhino, as far as India itself is concerned, is virtually a non-existent animal. In the little state of Nepal, the Indian rhino has always been regarded as royal game, no one except the Maharajah and those friends and associates to whom he gave special permission being allowed to hunt it.

On May 20th of that year I sailed for Hong Kong, on the first leg of one of the most important collecting trips I have ever undertaken. While the Nepal expedition for the Indian rhinos was my big objective, I also had other important orders. Incidentally, Philadelphia’s zoo also asked for a rhino.

The St. Louis Zoo had commissioned me to secure for them a collection of Indian waders (cranes, storks, flamingoes), also some gib- bons and antelope. Then there was an order for a whole zoo which I had contracted for with the city of Dallas.

I also had an order from Al G. Barnes, the circus man, for three elephants, two tigers, two tapirs and two orang-outangs.

The New York Zoo, in addition to the In- dian rhino, had commissioned me to get a pair of snow leopards, a pair of markhor goats and a few smaller animals. I merely mention these to give you an idea of the extent of my business and the scale on which I was operating.

My diary reveals that I arrived in Singapore on the 28th of June. There I made preliminary arrangements for the trapping, and, in some cases, the purchase of the specimens I was after. Then I sailed for Calcutta.

At Calcutta I had a stroke of good luck. One of the many inquiries designed to help me discover some one who could be helpful in getting me on the right side of the Maharajah of Nepal resulted in the information that General Kaiser Shum Shere, a nephew of the Maharajah, was in town. He had come down from Khatmandu in his official capacity and had established a sort of Nepalese headquarters in Middletown Row, in the European section of Calcutta.

Shum Shere proved to be a dapper little man of about 35, with a dapper little beard. Shum Shere did not waste any time in getting to the point. I could have two Indian rhinos for 35,000 rupees. This is about $12,600. It’s a lot of money to invest in a couple of animals that have to travel 16,000 miles before you can hope to get your money back.

We closed the transaction and I was delighted when Shum Shere told me that he would personally head the expedition for the animals I sought This meant that the job would be intelligently organized and prosecuted, for the general is a truly great shikari, a man who has won the respect of the greatest hunters in Asia.

The deal for the rhinos settled, I decided on a collecting trip that took me through Burma and down the Malay peninsula to Singapore where I wound up with a great many specimens, including elephants, tigers, smaller animals and birds.

It was arranged that I was to keep in touch with a representative in Calcutta who was to be notified by Shum Shere after the latter had captured the two rhinos. Then I was to proceed to Nepal for the animals.

After days of reconnoitering, the General, who was working with a force of thirty elephants and well over a hundred Gurkhas, surrounded a female rhinoceros with a good sized calf. He shot down the mother, knowing that the rest was easy. By this I mean that it is well known to those who are familiar with the habits of the rhinoceros family that rhino calf will stand beside the dead body of its mother until decomposition starts to set in.

As the old cow dropped in her tracks, rope fencing, about four feet high and inter- minably long, was quickly brought up and thrown around the calf, making an enclosure of probably an acre in extent. A small army of Gurkhas managed the rope fencing, and they gradually closed in on the young rhinoceros until it was hemmed within an enclosure only 25 or 30 feet in diameter.

The animal put up a game fight, the General said, it being necessary to use his entire force of men to keep the fencing taut and prevent the baby rhino—(a mere infant weighing about a ton)—from dashing through.

At this point in the proceedings logs and poles were cut from the forest and brought up to the rope corral. These were driven in the ground close together and banked high with earth on the outside. The rhino was left this way for several days, until somewhat weakened and easy to handle.

A second calf was captured in the same manner. .

They gave me a total of $16,000 for the two rhinos and it would take much bookkeeping to show that I didn’t make any money on the deal. As near as I can figure, I broke even.

One of my adventures that I will always remember, which came unfortunately close to making an end of me, began with this simple sentence: “We want a king cobra—a big one.”

Several times I had heard those words from Dr. Raymond Ditmars of the New York Zoological Park. For a long time I had been on the lookout for a specimen that would fill the bill, but without success.

The difficulties involved in landing a big king cobra are many. Most of the Asiatic traders and trappers that supply me with specimens of other kinds, including dangerous animals and reptiles, have a fear of cobras that makes the disquiet that all other jungle terrors arouse in them seem mild in comparison.

The reason for this is that of all the creatures that dwell in the jungle of Asia it is the most vicious, being the only one that will attack without provocation. Nowhere in the world is there an animal or reptile that can quite match its unfailing determination to wipe out anything that crosses its path.

This lust to kill invests the king cobra with a quality of fiendishness that puts it in a class by itself, almost making of it a jungle synonym for death. I think of the many natives, within my own experience, that have succumbed to it, of animals that suffered the same fate.

I can’t get out of my mind, for instance, the picture of a big water buffalo, a fine specimen weighing about 1,500 pounds, that, walking through a rice padi, had the misfortune to step too close to a ridge where a six-foot king cobra lay coiled up.

The uncompromising reptile struck and the buffalo was dead in less than an hour.

The ordinary poisonous reptile makes a quick strike and injects what venom it can in a fraction of a second. When the king cobra strikes it holds its victim fast in its jaw until it has completely emptied its poisonous sacs. The result is an infection from which recovery is impossible, the system being too saturated with the killing fluid.

Nine times out of ten the mere smell of a human being will send a tiger scurrying off into the jungle. The same is true of the leopard. The sudden appearance of a native child has been known to stampede a whole herd of elephants. The cobra alone refuses to admit that man is anything to worry about. Cross its path anywhere at any time and he’ll raise two or three feet of his body off the ground, stretch out his great hood and go for you.

Wherever 1 went all over the map of Asia I looked around to see if there wasn’t a chance of picking up the king cobra that was wanted in New York. Then one day I had a stroke of luck. I was up on the northeastern border of Johore looking over some tigers. An old Malay Sakai came by with a box on his head.

It didn’t take me long to see that the old baboon had something remarkable to offer— the largest king cobra I had ever seen.

In fact, it later proved to be the biggest in the world. I gave him ten dollars and the giant king cobra was mine.

I was curious to hear from the old Sakai how he had come by the tremendous cobra he had sold me. One of the Asiatic jungle’s strangest products, he stood before me hugging his ten dollars to his chest, greatly pleased with his bargain and smiling that I might get a good look at the hideous black stumps that once were teeth.

One night when the jungle was a bit chill and damp, he and his comrades started a fire. Sakais have a habit of rolling in the warm ashes on such occasions. One of the men was going through these strange gymnastics when he felt something strike him in the chest.

Instinctively he reached out and grabbed it, yelling for all he was worth as he did. Curled up in the ashes, some of them half asleep, were other Sakais. When they heard their fellow tribesmen cry out they jumped up to see what was wrong. They found him holding an enormous king cobra. Seeking a warm place the cobra had come into the Sakai camp.

As the victim kept shrieking away that he had been bitten by a king cobra, one of the Sakais who had scrambled up out of the ashes got a firm hold on the snake behind the head and took it away from his doomed comrade. Only a Sakai would have had the nerve to do that.

With the old man directing the operations, a long pole and strips of rattan were quickly produced and the cobra was stretched out and lashed to the pole. Later it was transferred to an old wooden box.

The first thing I did when I got back to Singapore with my record-breaking king cobra was to order a fine teakwood box with a heavy plateglass top sliding in a groove. We prepared to transfer the snake by placing the old box over the new and knocking the decaying bottom out of the old The snake would drop through and with one quick slide of the plateglass top I would finish the job of installing him in his new and more comfortable home.

I had two Chinese boys and two Malay boys working with me in the compound, which gave me more help than I needed for the simple task to be done. The scene of our operations was a nipa-thatched shed in my compound, inclosed on three sides, open in front and partly filled with empty tiger cages and other boxes stacked to the roof.

I sent one of the Chinese boys for the old box. With the rear wall of the shed at my back, I was standing beside the new box which was in readiness for its tenant. As the boy approached he stumbled over some object on the ground, jarring the box sufficiently to cause the rotten bottom to fall out. The snake fell with it, landing on the cement in front of me, belly up.

In a fraction of a second my four boys were frantically scrambling to places of safety. I was debating whether to do the same thing myself. It was really the sensible thing to do. After all, who wants to fight a cobra?

The piled-up tiger boxes formed a wall on my left, the stolid sidewall of the shed was at my right and behind me was the back of the shed.

I hesitated long enough to give the snake a chance to right itself. It reared its head three feet and spread its greenish brown hood. Then it saw me.

Instinctively I jumped backward. There wasn’t far to go. Another four or five feet and I’d hit the back of the shed. As I made my brief retreat the snake struck, missing my leg by only an inch or two.

I was trapped. I suffered more from plain ordinary fright at that moment than at any time in all my long career of adventure. Through my mind flashed a quick picture of what had happened to the Sakai that this terrible reptile had bitten.

I flattened myself against .the back of the shed, grimly eyeing the killer that lay almost at my feet. The expressionless eyes calmly looking back at me gave me a cold and clammy feeling. I didn’t want to die this way. Desperately I ran my eyes around for something to bring down over the enemy’s head.

Anything would do, anything that could be converted into a club—a stick of wood, a . .

The cobra was poising itself for another strike. The hideous head rose slightly and stretched forward a bit.

Staring hard ahead I poised myself too . . for a fight to a finish, though just how I was going to fight I didn’t know. I had nothing to fight with, nothing with which to fend off the attack.

Frantically slipping over my head the white duck coat which I was wearing over a bare skin—quaint custom of the tropics— I held it in front of me, and as the snake came on I lunged forward and threw myself upon it.

I hit the ground with a bang, the cobra under me. I could feel the wriggling body under mine, and with each wriggle I pressed down harder.

I was hopeful of keeping the reptile so weighted down that it would not be able to do anything with those murderous fangs. I screamed like a lunatic for those boys of mine. The cobra continued to squirm and wriggle.

With a crazy kind of desperation I kept pressing down with my body. Part of the Snake got loose and kept hitting against my hip. In my unhinged condition T decided that the part that was free was the head and every time it struck I imagined myself being bitten.

I started yelling like mad for one of the other boys. One of the Chinese lads appeared. He was game. As I cautiously raised up a bit, not sufficient to allow the reptile to lift its head enough for a striking position, he slid his hand underneath me and made a quick grab for the snake behind the head; and as I slowly raised up higher and higher he began the process of tightly twisting the white duck coat over the cobra’s mouth, head and neck until it was helpless.

Less than ten minutes later the king cobra that had almost succeeded in killing me was dropped into his new box. Dr. Ditmars was delighted with his giant cobra when it was delivered to the Bronx Zoo four weeks later.

HAIRLESS MICE MAY GIVE CLEW TO BALDNESS CURE

Just arrived in this country, a shipment of African “rhinoceros mice” may help scientists to find the cause of baldness and develop a cure. Although the strange rodents have whiskers like other mice, their bodies are devoid of hair. Experiments to determine the cause of this unusual characteristic are planned by Dr. Alexis Carrel of the Rockefeller Institute and Dr. W. E. Cassell of Harvard University. If the experimenters should succeed in growing hair on the mice, as reports indicate they may attempt, it is hoped that a similar treatment may be worked out which will cure baldness in human beings. Two of the mice are seen in the picture above.

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TRAIN YOUR DOG TO RUN ERRANDS

It’s old stuff to Buck, famous movie dog shown above and below, but he is willing to pose so other dogs may learn. Below, training a dog to bark when a stranger approaches. As door opens, the dog is led forward and told to speak. “Guard duty” is the dog’s most fundamental job.

If your dog has learned to obey such commands as “Sit “Come” and “Speak,” he can be taught to perform many useful tasks, according to Carl Spitz, Hollywood trainer of movie dogs. At left, the dog is being trained to call his master when the telephone rings. When the phone rings, the dog is led up to it and given the command to speak. He quickly learns to bark when the bell rings. Next, he is led to his master in a remote room of the house or outdoors before he is given the command, “Speak.” After a few days of this training, the dog will work alone.

Training a dog to carry a market basket starts with teaching him to walk with a rolled newspaper in his mouth. Then he graduates to carrying the wood dumbbell, above, and finally to the basket, below.

Any dog weighing more than 75 pounds can be taught to pull a small cart or wagon in harness. First teach him to pull an empty box with a rope held in his teeth to overcome fear of an object tied to him. Then harness the dog to a small platform or a sled (below) that will not tip over easily. After he has learned to pull the platform, weights can be placed on it gradually. He will offer no objections when a dogcart or wagon is substituted for the platform.

Left, training dog to bring newspaper into house. First, lead him to the paper and give command, “Pick it up” Then place it in his mouth. Next, stop several feet from the paper and give command while the dog goes forward. Increase the distance between you and the paper gradually. Below, dog is calling his deaf owner by grasping the wrist.

An Improved Squirrel House

Most children enjoy having pets such as rabbits and squirrels. A house that will accommodate several squirrels, and will permit them to climb a tree without danger of escape, has been found to be a great improvement upon the small wooden houses generally used.

The main house should be about ft. square, with a roof slanting down from the front, and supported on posts 3 ft. high. The front side should face the south; it should be as open as possible, and covered with 1-in. poultry mesh. The house should be located close to a tree, so that a runway, 8 to 10 in. square, can be built from the house to a feeding platform, built around the tree as shown. The runway is built of 1-in. lumber and poultry mesh. The floor of the feeding platform is about 8 or 10 in. wide, made of pine boards and supported by wooden brackets nailed to the tree; a heavy wire frame, covered with 1-in. poultry mesh is used to inclose it. From the feeding platform another runway, also made of poultry mesh, leads up along the tree trunk and over one of the limbs to a small wooden house on the end of the limb.—George L. Furse, Webster Groves, Mo.

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New Mexico’s Reptile Wrangler

Launching a curio shop with two baby boas as a come-on, an ex-GI and his wife found snakes a profitable business.

By Weldon D. Woodson

ON May 1, 1946, 26-year-old Texas-born ex-GI Herman Atkinson and his 24-year-old wife Phyllis opened a small curio shop on tourist-packed U. S. Highway 66, a mile and a half west of the pint-size village of Grants, New Mexico.

For bait to lure motorists, they had caged two baby boa constrictors. A gargantuan sign blazened to the world their Lilliputian “den of death.” Despite the limitations of their improvised menagerie, they observed that visitors showed more wide-eyed interest in the duet of boas than the curios. So why not, they reasoned, continue the shop but annex to it a mammoth reptile house and charge admission?

During the summer months, they exhibit 300 to 400 snakes and in winter approximately half that number. They feature banded kraits, rattlesnakes, pythons, anacondas, mambas and most sensational of all, the true cobras including king and spitting. In fact, Herman Atkinson plays nursemaid to more cobras than any man in the United States. Fittingly, his establishment bears the name: Cobra Gardens.

Each year approximately 100,000 people visit the place, the heaviest month being August with about 25,000. Visitors come from all 48 states and from India, South America, Mexico, Switzerland, Puerto Rico, England, Canada, Sweden, Denmark, Alaska and Siam. Besides Herman and Phyllis Atkinson, the act includes their 9-year-old son Peter and 8-year-old daughter Marilynn. Almost any hour one may catch them with harmless indigo snakes twined around their necks. They have attached pet names to the specimens in the cages, such as Si the Siamese cobra, Round-Spot the cobra with an O on the back of its hood, Moe the giant python, King the king cobra. Other storytelling names include Scar Nose and Climber.

The one on whose fangs rests the most dramatic story, however, is the Indian cobra christened Grace Wiley. It is the actual snake that fatally bit Mrs. Wiley in her Cypress, California, reptile zoo near Los Angeles. The letter G vividly stands out etched on- the color pattern of its hood. Since G is the first letter in Grace, Mrs. Grace Wiley happily exclaimed that it was a good omen but as she attempted to coax it to spread its hood to be photographed, it drew back, then bit her on a finger. About an hour after the bite she died in a hospital. For many years she had handled poisonous snakes with their fangs intact and branded it cruel to remove them. Among her last words was a plea not to destroy her attacker. From the Grace Wiley collection the cobra went to Evans Reptile Gardens in Phoenix, Arizona where Atkinson corralled it for the princely sum of $500.

As a baby sitter for cobras, Atkinson’s life is constantly in jeopardy. Once, with two assistants, he took a king cobra out of its cage to treat it for sore mouth. The cage had two separate doors with a sliding panel in the center. This enabled him to move the snake from one side to the other and thereby clean the cage. Then Atkinson pulled open the sliding panel to allow it the freedom of the whole cage.

Suddenly the throng of spectators screamed and scattered in all directions.

The assistants dashed for the nearest exit doors. Atkinson looked down and saw the cobra had squirmed halfway out through its other door. Bang! He jammed the sliding panel down on the end of its tail to hold it. Gingerly he crawled on top of the cage. Using a long hook, he managed to maneuver the cobra back into its cage.

Shortly after he became a snake handler, he purchased from Henry Trefflich of New York a 15-foot king cobra. A bad scar marred the back of its neck, caused by the noose used when it was caught. With its refusal to feed, Atkinson concluded that it might have been injured internally. He sought one of the local doctors to X-ray the snake. The doctor refused but his wife volunteered.

At the time Atkinson’s father was visiting him and consented to drive him to the doctor’s clinic. After catching the cobra, Atkinson decided it would be better if he and Phyllis held it in the back seat rather than in a bag. That way it would be easier to hold it under the X-ray machine when they arrived. Atkinson’s father, not too happy about the whole thing, chauffeured them, but in his confusion forgot to shift the gears on the car and drove all the way in first gear. When they reached town Phyllis was posted as look out so that they could sneak from the car into the doctor’s office and back to the car. A passing pedestrian would not have been very pleased when confronted with a 15-foot cobra. Sums up Atkinson, “The X-ray was a success but I’m afraid my father’s blood pressure will never return to normal.”

When one handles a poisonous snake for any reason, there’s always imminent danger. Atkinson’s most dependable tool con- sists of a three-foot-long broomstick with a metal S-shape hook on the end. With this he captures a snake by pressing the hook just back of its head so that it cannot turn to either side.

Tending a household full of snakes demands such chores as keeping their cages clean, shedding their skin when they are unable to do it themselves, checking their mouths for infection, removing parasites and force feeding those who tenaciously refuse to eat. The smaller snakes get white mice, frogs, salamanders and insects. The larger pythons banquet on ducks and rabbits. The Grace Wiley cobra, in the pink of health, relishes young squabs.

To force feed a large snake Atkinson mixes ground beef, raw eggs, milk and vitamins. He forces this into the snake by means of a hand pump attached to a piece of tubing that reaches about halfway through the length of the snake’s body. This must be performed delicately since there is a possibility of injuring the snake internally. When he force-feeds a venomous cobra with his fingers near the open mouth, one slip of a finger and an epitaph would be erected for the maestro.

In stocking and replenishing his gardens he buys rattlesnakes and small, harmless snakes locally from individuals at $1.50 a pound. He imports cobras, pythons and mambas direct from Africa, India and Malaya. Cobras delivered to this country have a market value of approximately $35 each. Large pythons bring from $300 to $1,000 each. He pays about $300 for a large king cobra.

Concerning reactions of visitors, Atkinson reports that they appear amazed at the tremendous collection in such a desolate and out-of-the-way place. They often compliment him on the manner in which he displays his snakes as well as on the cleanliness of the reptile house. “Then, of course, there are always a few,” lie further explains, “who seem to think that unless the snakes are leaping from one end of the cage to Smother, they are dead. This is why I maintain an open pit and conduct lectures continually during the summer months.”

When motorists approach Cobra Gardens they behold a spectacle of P. T. Barnum 0 proportions. With a deserty, rock-ribbed slope as a backdrop, garish paintings of monstrous snakes adorn the outside walls of the elongated reptile house like banners in front of a side show. They convey the impression that the exhibition inside is colossal. And the 100,000-a-year visitors attest that the actual show, from every standpoint, measures up to the sign. •

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The Mechanics of Lion Taming

by CLYDE R. BEATTY
Famous Animal Trainer

Why is the gun used by lion tamers loaded with blank cartridges — and why are trainers careful never to strike their charges with their whips? A famous animal trainer tells you all about it in this stirring article.

ACCREDITED as the originator of exhibiting mixed groups of wild animals before the public, Clyde R. Beatty, shown in the photo at the right, has the honor of being the youngest lion and tiger trainer in the profession. Running away from home in 1921 to become an animal attendant, his big chance came when an accident took the regular trainer away. He took over the job, and today is one of the most popular men in the profession.

SPORTSMEN and naturalists can rave all they wish as to which is the King of Beasts. My own hat is always off to the lion. Twice now, I owe the species my life and that’s excuse enough for any man’s esteem.

When the Hagenbeck-Wallace circus opened in Texarkana last spring, the big crowd thought it part of my act when a huge Bengal tiger bowled me over and seizing me about the waist, began trotting round and round the arena.

It wasn’t until the next day that the public learned what really happened. As for me, I knew I was so near death that I was nauseated. I could feel that big cat’s teeth stabbing through my wide leather stomach belt and every split-second I expected the crunch which would end everything. My assistants outside the arena were so paralyzed with terror they forgot the part expected of them when accidents happen.

Fortunately for me, there was an enormous Nubian lion in that mixed group of 32, who knew that things weren’t going according to usual schedule. Although he and I had always been somewhat friendly I’m not saying, mind you, that he deliberately acted to save my life. What he probably, figured out was that here was his chance of a lifetime to prove a lion’s instinctive hatred for a tiger, now that I seemed unable to hold him back.

At any rate, with an ear-splitting roar, he launched down from his pedestal and landed fair and square on the cat’s back. The tiger dropped me instantly and turned to defend itself. What a fight followed!

Stunned and badly wounded, I cowered on the floor while those two maddened beasts clawed, slashed and tore at each other with my body under their flying feet. Over and again, their terrible claws punctured me as they sought to keep their footing.

Fortunately for me, the tiger suddenly gave way before the lion’s terrific attack. Somehow I staggered to my feet and drove them to their respective runways which my panic-stricken attendants suddenly remembered to open. Then I herded the other thir- ty animals out of the arena and collapsed before the door. My helpers dragged me out and hustled me off to the hospital where 1 spent the next two weeks.

I’ll carry the scars of that adventure until I die.” So will the tiger, for the Nubian had nearly killed him before I was able to get up and whip them apart. It has always been a miracle to me that the entire group didn’t participate in one grand free-for-all while I lay helpless on the floor.

Explaining how lion and tiger are trained isn’t an easy thing because there aren’t any trade secrets to divulge. It’s just a matter of being foolish enough to walk in with them and daring them not to attack you as they naturally prefer to do. Making them jump up on pedestals or through hoops or do any’ of the other stunts is largely a matter of persistent trying and no end of patience. Unlike a dog, they aren’t eager to please any man and their seeming obedience is largely rendered because they wonder what would happen if they didn’t obey.

The big thing, of course, is to make them let you alone. Nature ingrained them with a hatred and suspicion for man and that animosity takes one of two channels—they either want to attack you or else run away. Their reaction to your command isn’t the willingness of a horse to “giddap” or “whoa”— rather it is the reluctant submission of brute-strength to human will-power. Their fear, as it were, of what might happen if they didn’t do what was asked of them.

That fear, however, is a laughable thing when you analyze it and if they only knew the truth no trainer’s life would be. safe. The whip he carries is no weapon at all and in case of a showdown, utterly useless to repel a beast capable of a mighty spring which would knock a horse down. But it makes a lovely “crack!” when handled right and suggests unknown possibilities to a furtive-minded animal.

Nothing could be more absurd and harm- really helpless. To inflict any sort of pain while alone in an arena would be to tempt Providence itself. The very pistol we carry is always loaded with blanks and if fired in the face of an angry animal, is more apt to prove a spur than a deterrent.

My own assistants are carefully coached never to enter the arena itself in case of mishap or accident to me. They can serve me best from the outside by flinging open the runway gates leading back to the pens and attempting to drive the animals out of the arena. It is a circus “law” that the trainer stands on his own legs when he enters a cage or the arena.

I have encountered a few members of the cat family who really went out of their way to be friendly and half-affectionate. But their moods are not to be trusted and unfortunately, they have no realization of their strength. Thus, their enthusiasm is more to be feared than downright anger. Any cat can bowl a man over with a flip of his tail and even a friendly tap from their mighty paws would splinter wood. Their claws are horribly sharp and hawk-like in action whenever they encounter soft flesh. If they were to draw a single drop of blood in a moment of friendly exuberance, tragedy might quickly follow, for the smell awakens their primitive instincts.

It was a friendly scuffle with a young cub lion that nearly cost the life of Charles Gay, owner of the famous California lion farm. The cub enthusiastically cuffed at him and entangled a claw in Gay’s bootlace. In an effort to extricate it, he sank the claw into the calf and blood streamed out. In an instant, the friendly beast became a raging, carnivorous animal. Gay spent weeks in the hospital.

My own first accident with lions was largely the result of too much faith in the friendliness of an especially fine Nubian lion. In the group I happened to be working that day, was a lioness who suddenly came in season. She remained beautifully aloof to his sudden advances and it angered him to the point where he vented his ire on me.

Knocking me down, he nearly tore my right arm off and his big teeth punctured it through and through. Things looked like the end for me when suddenly that lioness took it in her head to play the coquette. She leaped down from her pedestal and started to cavort around him as he was chewing at me. That excited him so he turned away and I did a nose-dive for the door. That was at Kokomo in 1925 and put me abed for a long siege.

Exhibiting mixed groups of animals in an arena is one of the toughest and most dangerous jobs we trainers do and I’ve about concluded never to work such an act again. The public neither appreciates nor understands the truly great risk we run and because it is their plaudits I am after, I’ve come to some definite conclusions about preserving my skin hereafter.

The lion and tiger are natural enemies and making them work peacefully together is exactly like trying to keep dynamite and a percussion cap from exploding. Throw in some leopards, a few panther and a bear or two into one enclosure and you’ve got all the natural makings for a better rough-house than any Irishman could ever want. The very air in the arena crackles with hatreds when such a mixed group is driven in.

Circus men said it couldn’t be done when I first tackled the stunt back in ’23. Well, I didn’t know what would happen myself when I tried the stunt out at the training quarters. All I knew was that I wanted to give the public a big thrill, and I certainly got one myself when they shoved a few lions and tigers in with me. Of course, I chose well- trained animals whose dispositions were better than the average for the first experiment. But at that, I had my hands full that day and I’ve had them full every time I have worked the stunt since. You can imagine my feelings when I added leopard and bear later on!

There are no vacations to speak of in our profession. All the year round I must keep in close association with the animals I work. Their memories are too short and their moods too variable. They must be put through their paces as often as possible for lengthy letdowns are dangerous. It is only during stormy weather that I can relax and take things easy. The approach of a storm makes them restless and uneasy and their high-strung nature won’t permit intimate contacts then.

An animal trainer’s first consideration must always be for the safety of the spectators watching his act. This is another reason why the revolver I carry in my act is loaded with blank cartridges. Supposing a tiger were to charge me, and I fired a bullet at him. In the first place, it is extremely unlikely that the lead slug would have the effect of stopping the animal in his tracks before he could maul me. A case, not at all unusual, is on record where a tiger, carrying seven heavy bullets in his body through vital spots, ran for fifty yards before dropping. So you can see why a blank shot, with its frightening concussion, is just as effective for a trainer as a real bullet.

But, to get back to the story, supose I did fire that bullet, and it went wild and struck some member of the audience in the closely-packed circus tent. By any sense of justice, ‘the animal trainer who has lost control of his charges is the one who should pay the penalty, not some innocent bystander. It is part of the odds the trainer accepts when he steps into the cage.

I may flirt with death a bit oftener than the average man but there is one nice thing about “cat” training—insurance men never pester me to death!

World’s First Red-Headed Cat

A CAT said to be the only one of its kind in existence was exhibited recently at the cat show at Croydon, England, by H. C. Brooke. Instead of one of the familiar cat colors of black, white, grey or ginger, this remarkable feline is dark red from head to tail, like a human head of deep auburn hair. Red patches or bands have been observed on other cats but this is the only individual, Mr. Brooke asserts, in which the coat of hair is entirely red. Just how the red-haired cat happened is not disclosed although assurances are given that no chemical trick is involved but that the animal comes naturally by its unusual hair. The animal is a full-grown male and shares the supposed quick temper of red-headed humans, being exceptionally inclined to bite and scratch. The red hairs are produced in the same manner as in human beings; that is by partial deficiency of the black or brown pigment granules.

RECONSTRUCTS EXTINCT DODO BIRD
Familiar as a figure of speech is the dodo bird— but no one living ever saw one, until Prof. Homer Dill, of the University of Iowa Museum, set out to re-construct the strange bird for modern eyes. After a search of many years, in which he examined crumbling old manuscripts and gathered information and measurements, he has just completed a restoration of the dodo. The original dodo bird was a flightless pigeon larger than a turkey. It lived on the island of Mauritius, off the eastern coast of Africa, until it became extinct about 1681. It had an enormous bill, short legs covered with scales, and curly tail feathers as shown in picture at the right.

Turkey Crossed With Chicken to Get Tasty Meat Fowl

WHAT would you call the strange fowl in the photo at the right—a turken or a chickey? Either would be correct, for The thing is a cross between a turkey and a chicken.

With a view toward providing a new bird for table use, the Rev. Castor Ordonez, head of the department of biology at De Paul University, Chicago, bred a white Austrian Turkey with a Rhode Island Red hen and the turken—or chickey —was what happened.

The meat of the hybrid fowl is tastier than that of either of its parents and it yields two to three times as much edible flesh as a chicken. Father Ordonez is attempting to perpetuate the species.

The Cat Man says: “Are you killing your cat with kindness?”

Did you discover his favorite food, and feed him only that? Like plain chicken? Plain tuna? Plain kidneys?

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They pick a favorite food, and stick to it. When that happens, they could be in trouble.

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Mechanical Tricks make Fowl Actors Perform

TWELVE chickens, sitting austerely in a miniature jury box, nodded silently in agreement when asked whether the accused rooster was guilty.

An ostrich opened its mouth as though carrying on a conversation with a white trader.

A myna bird shouted, “Hello, how are you?” to a fisherman.

A rooster dashed into a scene, stopped and crowed. A crow with split tongue talked with apparent intelligence for the sound camera.

Mark Sandrich, a Hollywood director who has put many birds through their paces for the screen, has learned that birds are the dumbest actors ever to show their faces to the camera; yet, because they lack intelligence, frequently they will perform their bits better than the more intelligent animal family.

Directors Must Know Animal Psychology “Direction of birds for the talkies requires a combination of patience and resourcefulness,” Sandrich explained. “It involves a knowledge of mechanics and animal psychology. Some birds are directed by purely mechanical means.”

The twelve chickens nodded when two long wooden strips, on which were tacked twelve grains of corn, suddenly were dropped down. The chickens pecked at the corn. Others are cued by surprises.

“The Australian magpie,” said Sand-rich, “is the most intelligent bird with which we work. Yet its criminal tendencies make it a difficult subject. The magpie, like the myna bird and the parrot, can be taught to repeat sounds; and, as the parrot ‘talks’ with no intelligent knowledge, so with the other ‘talking’ Chickens, the director has learned, can be made to pose by stroking the back of their heads. Roosters enliven scenes with plenty of action. Ducks and geese are “plain dumb.”

And an ostrich once provided some of the funniest bird scenes ever recorded. Sandrich was directing “Trader Ginsberg” and wanted the ostrich to swallow a tiny radio set, about the size of an apple; but the set must lodge half-way down the bird’s neck.

How Ostrich Was Made to Talk Here’s how it was worked: The director cut an orange square to represent the radio, tied a thread around the bird’s throat about half-way down and permitted the bird to reach down with its beak and swallow what appeared to be the radio set.

The orange stuck at the prescribed point. Now, the bird must open and close its beak as though words flowing through the radio actually were emitted by the bird itself.

Glue, stuck in the top of the bird’s bill, failed when the ostrich swallowed it. Spirit gum similarly failed. Then a wad of chewing gum stuck inside the upper-bill accomplished the result, and the ostrich “talked” during a long scene.

Feeding was such a mess until Westvaco had a doggone good idea

Rover couldn’t care less about how his food is packaged—but Westvaco couldn’t care more. Proof: this unusual canine six-pack with a throw-it-away feeding tray for each can. Good idea? We might have an even better one for you. For more information on Westvaco packaging, technical service and graphic arts experience, write: West Virginia Pulp and Paper, 230 Park Avenue, New York, New York 10017, Dept. AD-10.

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Serious Monkey Business

To study the effects of radiation at various levels of fatigue, monkeys are exercised inside a rotating, plastic sphere and studied by researchers at the University of Tennessee medical school.

Four feet in diameter, the sphere is turned constantly at three miles per hour or faster. The monkeys are put on this treadmill after slight exposure to radiation and studied by the scientists.

The purpose is to discover what effect prolonged exposure to low levels of radiation has on the body, levels man might encounter in nuclear warfare or in outer space. One theory is that such exposure does subclinical damage to the body which has escaped detection. It might be brought out by stress conditions, such as exercise.

A second part of the experiments will be to test antifatigue compounds, and during the tests the monkeys will exercise both with and without the compounds.

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Just How ‘Human’ Are Apes, Anyway?

From a Malayan jungle comes a strange story that may prove they’re more like us than not.

By Lester David

A SCIENTIFIC discovery of global importance may stem from the dark and wild jungleland of Northern Malaya. Here is the bizarre series of events which led to an exciting hunt now in progress: A native workman was tapping a rubber tree on an outlying plantation a few months ago when he felt a pair of strong arms encircling his waist. Startled, he whirled around and stared squarely into the grinning face of a creature half-ape, half-human, whose lips were drawn back over protruding fangs.

The workman stood rooted for an instant, then broke away with a terrified scream, leaving part of his clothing clutched in the monster’s hairy hands.

A few days later a woman rubber worker named Wong Ah Mooi appeared at an official’s shack in a state bordering on collapse. Almost incoherently she blurted out her story. A hand had fallen on her shoulder while she was bending over a tree—she had looked up and seen a woman with long, matted hair, fair skin and apelike teeth. The strange female was clothed in yellow bark, Ah Mooi said, and “spoke in a funny language which sounded like a bird croaking.”

Incidents such as these multiplied and finally government officials sent squads of security troops into the jungles with strict orders: Bring ‘em back alive! So far, the story has all the aspects of a grade C movie thriller. But there’s a punchline to it that has all of Northern Malaya and far beyond in a big dither.

It’s this: Government officials believe strongly that these monsters could be the much-discussed, all-but-phantom missing link that has eluded scientists for more than a century!

The hunt for this link has been pursued ever since Charles Darwin told the world that man evolved from some primate ancestor. But there was one question neither Darwin nor anyone else could answer— where were some specimens of the intermediate forms between apes and men; where was the missing bridge in the chain of evolution?

Anthropologists, hunting in all the far-flung reaches of the globe, have unearthed a number of fossilized remains such as the Java Man, Peking Man and Kromdraii Man. These were milestones in the search but not the actual links between the man who walks the streets and the ape who swings from trees.

Could these amazing creatures who wandered from the jungle only last Christmas to terrify the natives be the answer at last? And living ones, at that? American anthropologists are frankly skeptical but one official in Malaya told a correspondent: “They could be one of the biggest anthropological discoveries in years.” In addition, experts in the department of aborigines at Kuala Lumpur in Malaya are leaving no stone unturned. They conducted an intensive investigation and got four important clues by piecing together the stories of witnesses. These are: 1. The creatures had apparently seen rifles before, because several fled in alarm when a security officer aimed one at them. 2. All had light skins, indicating they had lived for years in the sunless, overgrown jungles. 3. They knew about some food crops, particularly tapioca. They were discovered munching some of the plant roots on one estate. 4. Their language was neither Chinese nor Malayan, but a series of gutteral grunts, understood by no one.

A few persons have mentioned the possibility that they are either disguised Communists or Japanese soldiers in hiding since the war ended. However, the manager of the great Trolek Forest Preserve, a Mr. S. Brown, discounts the theory completely and adds that their animal-like smells, observed by witnesses, “indicates they are not ordinary human beings.”

In any event, scientists want to see them, talk to them, study them. Because if they really are the missing link, the story of man’s evolution will be finally complete and one of the most perplexing puzzles of the past century will at last be solved.

But the hunt for the link is by no means the only interest science has in these queer ancestors of ours. Anthropologists and psychologists have always been fascinated by what makes them tick and their experiments have brought some amazing facts to light.

One of the riddles the experts particularly want answered is: Just how close are the anthropoid apes—that is, the gibbon, orangutan, chimpanzee and gorilla—to being human? To find out, a man and wife research team, Mr. and Mrs. W. N. Kellogg, once took a baby chimpanzee and raised him with their own child.

The chimp, named Gua, began life in the Kelloggs’ Bloomington, Ind., home when he was seven-and-a-half months old, two-and-a-half months younger than little Donald. The two infants lived together as playmates and companions, while the scientists made careful tests and observations.

Among the things the Kelloggs wanted to find out was which youngster learned how to understand and obey spoken commands more rapidly. One of the significant results: The chimpanzee actually made faster progress in many ways than the human infant!

For instance: Little Donald responded to the command “Come here” when he was 11 months old—but Gua the chimp heard and obeyed when he was but nine months. The little boy was 12-1/2 months before he understood that “no, no” meant he should stop whatever mischief he was engaged in; while Gua understood—and stopped!—a full five months earlier. When the chimp was 11 months, he learned that “Do you want to go bye-bye?” meant he was going for an airing. Accordingly, he would run to his perambulator and climb in. Donald, on the other hand, was two-and-a-half months older before the phrase registered.

Gua, to all intents and purposes, was a second child in the family. By the end of the first week, she was clothed in a diaper and shoes and got her meals in a high chair, being fed from a spoon and cup. She slept in a crib, had her fingernails pared and before she had been in residence a month was letting the Kelloggs brush her teeth in the morning!

A fascinating, perfectly human trait was noticed about this tooth-brushing ritual. Take a child. He is easily conditioned to react in advance to something he doesn’t like. He bellows, for instance, when you take him to a doctor for a physical examination because he remembers the prodding and probing as unpleasant experiences. So with the chimp. Gua didn’t like the pricking of the bristles. Thus, after a while, she would immediately draw back her lips from her gums whenever she caught sight of the toothbrush. She also knew when she was going to be tickled. All the Kelloggs had to do was make a gesture and the chimp would begin laughing and squirming in advance.

One of the experiments by which the Kelloggs tried to determine the relative learning ability of chimp and boy was the cookie test. They tied a cord to the ceiling and put a small clamp at the lower end to which they attached a cookie. Now the cookie hung put of reach and could be gotten only by pulling over a chair and standing on it. The room was entirely empty, except for the chair, which was deliberately placed on one side.

The scientists put Gua and Donald in the room separately and watched. They let them try for five minutes and if they didn’t succeed in pulling the chair over and obtaining the prize, the attempt was scored as a failure. Here’s what happened: Donald failed in four out of 20 trials but Gua the chimp was smart enough to figure out the way every time but once!

But let’s face it. There were a number of things Donald could do which Gua could not. Try as he would, the chimp was a hopeless failure at the game of pat-a-cake, which Donald learned to perform admirably.

How close are apes to being human? Closer than you thought. Consider memory. . .

Kenneth Wells of Washington received a dramatic lesson recently in the remembering powers of gibbons. His family acquired Bimbo as a pet while he was headmaster of an American mission school in Thailand. The animal became greatly attached to Wells’ young daughter, Roberta, and there was sadness all-around when the family finally moved back to Washington and left Bimbo in his native habitat.

It was almost a year-and-a-half later that Wells spotted a picture in a Washington newspaper—the National Zoological Park had just acquired a new inmate, a gibbon from Thailand, which looked suspiciously familiar. Could it be Bimbo? They decided to find out. At the zoo, Roberta stood in front of the cage and called softly. The gibbon stared, then its lips slowly widened in a smile of recognition. Finally, the girl was allowed within the enclosure and the gibbon wound its arms around her in a tender embrace. It was Bimbo and he had remembered halfway around the world, in completely different surroundings and over the long months.

Prof. W. Kohler, an eminent authority on anthropoids, found that chimpanzees can remember for 13 to 18 months. A gorilla being trained by Prof. R. M. Yerkes of the Yerkes Laboratories of Primate Biology in Orange Park, Fla., remembered her lessons perfectly ten months after they were discontinued.

Consider intelligence, the kind used in planning. Baboons, the largest of the monkey family, have been found to be almost unbelievably smart. In Africa, for example, they frequently make forays upon the crops of local fanners. But they never swoop down like wolves, pell-mell, helter-skelter. Listen to how Prof. Earnest A. Hooton, the noted anthropologist of Harvard University, describes these raids: “On such occasions they march in regular formation, with advance guards, rear guards and flanking parties of old males, the females and young moving in the center.” And do they leave themselves unprotected? Not in these monkeyshines. When robbing an orchard, they actually post a sentinel at a strategic point, Prof. Hooton explains, and if danger threatens, the sentry gives the alarm and the entire pack scoots off.

Prof. Hooton cites an authentic instance of a legless railway signalman in South Africa who trained a baboon to push down his signal-box on a hand-car and to pull the lever which threw the switches! The ancient Egyptians, he says, taught baboons to pick dates and a modern bricklayer in South Africa is said to have trained one as a hodcarrier.

And now consider speech, either their own language or the human one. A number of experts are convinced that the anthropoids possess a special language all their own which they use among themselves. Prof. R. L. Garner made an intensive study of chimpanzees and announced that he actually understood their talk. He said they definitely employ sounds that stand for words. Mrs. William S. Learned transcribed 32 different sounds made by chimps which she listed as speech elements.

A few tireless workers have succeeded in teaching some members of the ape family to speak human words. For example, Dr. William H. Furness, after many months of daily training, taught a young orangutan to say “papa” and “cup.” Another husband and wife scientific team, Dr. and Mrs. Keith J. Hayes, reared a baby chimp as their own child and taught her to speak a few words.

Apes, therefore, are darned close to being human. How much farther do they have to go? There are five changes which must be made before they can take their place in the human family, Dr. and Mrs. Hayes reported at a recent session of the American Association for the Advancement of Science:
1. Remake the ape hands to enable them to use tools and weapons.

2. Develop the pelvis, the bone ring that supports the spine, to allow walking upright.

3. Refine the vocal cords so they could talk.

4. Change the micro-anatomy of the brain to produce man’s ability at abstraction, symbolism and foresight.

5. Acquire new inborn tendencies toward various kinds of play.

But even though they’re not human enough to take over your job at an aircraft factory or an office, they’re smart enough to take over some complex chores for working folks. In the Jimma country of Abyssinia, for example, monkeys (who are not apes, by the way) have been taught a number of useful jobs. One explorer wrote that he saw them officiating as torch-bearers at supper parties! They sat in a docile row on a raised bench, patiently holding aloft their torches so that the guests could see their dinners.

According to R. W. C. Shelford, formerly curator of the Sarawak Museum, the pig-tailed macaque is used in Malaya and Sumatra to pick coconuts for the natives. A cord is tied to the monkey’s waist and it’s sent up a coconut palm. Aloft, the monkey grabs a nut and glances down. If the owner doesn’t think it’s ripe enough, he shakes his head and the monkey grabs another until he gets an assent from below. Then the animal twists the coconut from the stalk and lets it drop.

Smart? There’s the organ grinder’s monkey in Detroit who no longer accepts nickels. He hands them back scornfully, meanwhile dipping in his vest pocket for a quarter to illustrate the denomination he wants. In Paris, a monkey robbed seven women of their gems. He was trained to enter windows and pluck jewels from dresser drawers and tables by its master.

Apes and ape-men have figured in a number of fabulous hoaxes, the most recent of which was the whopper just exploded at the British Museum. It seems that the skull of the famous “Piltdown Man,” accepted for 40 years as a relic of man’s earliest history, is a fraud. The skull, thought to be 500,000 years old, has the jawbone of a very modern ape who lived less than 50 years ago! Chemical tests exposed the fake. Who did it? There’s not the slightest clue to what the museum calls a hoax unparalleled in the history of paleonotological research.

A hoaxer of a different bent scared the wits out of a number of suburban New Yorkers not long ago. He sent letters to housewives, blandly announcing that “one of our educated apes is available to you for a 30-day trial.” The letter explained that many of the firm’s apes are doing domestic service in many homes, waiting on table, washing dishes and scrubbing floors. It concluded with the shocker: “Unless we hear from you to the contrary, we will send your ape together with an instructor in the near future.”

The petrified ladies called everyone from the zoo to the F.B.I, and the “ape employment agency” was finally traced to a James C. Adams of New Jersey, who explained that he was simply testing the gullibility of the American people.

But you can own a little monkey or an ape, if you wish. They’re for sale. The price? Ask Henry F. Trefflich, head of the Trefflich Bird and Animal Co., one of the largest animal dealers in the country. Baby gorillas have sold for between $3,500 and $5,000, he says. Chimps run between $500 and $1,500, while baboons cost from $50 to $350. You might pick up a gibbon for anywhere from $125 to $175 and a monkey, depending on the species, for as low as $25 to about $275.

Maybe they can be profitable investments, at that. Look at J. Fred Muggs, actor by profession, chimpanzee by birth. He’s now a featured attraction on the morning television show, Today, and he earns a whale of a lot more money than most people! •

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Simple Small TRAPS will Catch Winter Game

By HI SIBLEY

These old time favorites among trappers are simple and humane. They will trap pets for your menagerie.

Simple materials, a little time, a little patience, and you can have a good string of traps of your own!

There is a lot of good sport in trapping small animals, especially when you make your own traps. Besides, one never knows just what sort of varmint he’s going to catch and that adds a thrill or two.

With one exception these traps all take their quarry alive and uninjured, and they may be kept for the home menagerie. The diagrams illustrate their simplicity of construction. Any one of them can be built with hammer, saw and jackknife, or a shovel.

Probably the oldest type is the pitfall, which is used to this day by natives of the African and Siamese jungles for big game. In fact, a recent motion picture film recorded the trapping of a half grown elephant in this type of trap. For the young American, however, a fox or coyote is probably as large an animal as he may expect, unless he wants to tackle the mountain lions in the coast ranges.

The advantage of the snare and sapling trap is that it swings the victim up out of the way of other animals who might devour it and also prevents its gnawing its way to freedom.

This type is more spectacular in action than any of the others, and works beautifully. Select a limber sapling in the game country, attach a stout cord near the tip and draw it down to locate position of release mechanism. Drive a stake (A) firmly into the ground if there are no exposed roots handy, and about 12 inches from it, toward the tree, anchor a limber green twig with a notch near the upper end (C) as shown in the diagram. Now cut a cross stick (B), about 12 inches long, sharpen one end to engage in the notch of (C) and smooth the other end so that the cord loop will slip off when the trap is sprung. From the sapling suspend a soft copper-wire snare-noose so that it hangs four or five inches from the upright stick (C) which holds the bait. To prevent the loop from swinging about, put in light stakes against the bottom in such a manner that they will not interfere with its action when the catch is released. A semi-circular row of stakes around the bait makes it impossible to reach it except through the snare-loop. The bait should be tied to the stock (C). It is well to wear gloves.

The “squirrel” trap is suitable for rabbits and gophers as well as squirrels and chipmunks. Make a box 15 inches long and 6 inches square, with one end and the top left open. The top, with the end attached, is swung on an axis about six inches from the closed end. This assembly should be a trifle narrower than the inside of the box so that it will operate freely.

The rabbit trap: In a good-sized packing box cut holes about 6 in. wide by 7 in. high opposite each other. Dig a hole deep enough to set the box with the bottom of the openings flush with the ground. Make two wooden tunnels or gangways with open tops about 18 in. long to fit loosely in the box openings. These are set a little more than halfway out of the box so that the outer ends rest on the ground, but the weight of the rabbit entering the box to get the bait will tilt the outer end up and slide the captive into the box. Small blocks are nailed to the underside of the tunnels to prevent them sliding into the box with the rabbit.

For small rodents the wire cone trap is a baffling device. They squeeze into it freely in quest of the bait, but every time they try to get out, the wires close on them. Bore a hole in the end of a wooden box. Around the edge of this hole insert a series of short wires that are stiff but with plenty of spring. Bend them toward an apex at the inner ends, just so they are about half as far apart as the diameter of the hole. The wires offer very little resistance to the quarry until it attempts to get out. , The “Figure 4″ trap is an old and tried device, but nevertheless a very efficient one. It is very good for birds, but burrowing and gnawing animals can make their way out without much trouble, unless the, box is well weighted and the trapper arrives soon after the catch. This can be made with only a jackknife from sticks about inch square. Larger or smaller will do as well. Details of trap are shown at left above.

“But Elmer, I didn’t say it would make you live to 90!” said Elsie, the Borden Cow.

“I don’t need anything to help ME live to 90,” bellowed Elmer the bull. “I HAVE DECIDED THAT I’M GOING TO LIVE TO 105 WITHOUT ANY HELP!”

“Well, if you’re planning to live that long,” laughed Elsie, “there’s more reason than ever for you to drink Borden’s Buttermilk every day.”

“Oho,” roared Elmer, “now Borden’s Buttermilk is going to make me live longer.”

“No, dear,” smiled Elsie, “But Borden’s Buttermilk will help you keep fit. It’s not fattening. And this good healthful drink has all the proteins and minerals of milk plus that extra something that tones up your digestive system.”

“Skip the sales talk!” snorted Elmer. “I drink buttermilk for two reasons. One, because it tastes good. And two, because it cools me off.”

“Then drink away and cool off,” coaxed Elsie as she handed him a glassful of Borden’s tangy, refreshing buttermilk.

“DOWN THE HATCH!” thundered Elmer. “That’s a he-man drink,” he said, smacking his lips. “I’ll have another—fill ‘er up!”

“I’m sorry, Elmer, there isn’t any more,” explained Elsie. “I’ve put the rest of the Borden’s Buttermilk in the spice cake.”

“WHO EVER HEARD OF PUTTING BUTTERMILK IN A CAKE?” guffawed Elmer.

“Why every good cook knows that Borden’s Buttermilk is grand for making cakes,” enthused Elsie. “And Elmer, I use it in waffles, biscuits and muffins, too. It makes them lighter and better tasting.”

“Say,” said Elmer thoughtfully, “if I’m drinking and eating buttermilk, too—I might live to 106!”

“Well, now, darling, let’s not overdo this,” smiled Elsie. “Let’s end this the way we always do by saying . . .

“If it’s Borden’s, it’s got to be good!”

Your family’s daily health drink- Borden’s Refreshing Buttermilk ALL-ABOARD! ALL-A-BORDEN’S!

Get Borden’s Buttermilk on Elsie’s Good Food Line!* * Borden foods must be good—folks buy more packages of food carrying the Borden brand name than any other in the world.

Dog Is Mother to Baby Rabbits

BESSIE, a three-year-old purebred Alsatian dog in Orsett, England, had no puppies of her own, but longed for something on which to lavish her affections.

She adopted a baby rabbit, and was happy for a time. The rabbit died, however, and Bessie was so grief-stricken that her master bought her a tame rabbit.

Although rabbits generally have a deep fear of all dogs, they seem to sense the affection of Bessie, and are happy with her.

Cattalo —A New Animal from the North

“Cattalo steak, sir? Nice and tender today.” You may hear that in dining-cars and hotels in the near future.

The “cattalo” is the result of crossing the buffalo and Hereford cow, and has been bred by the animal husbandmen of the Canadian Department of Agriculture with a view to transforming the Arctic prairies into a profitable ranch. Blessed with the hide of the buffalo, this new animal is capable of rustling for a living in the most severe climates. At the same time it inherits the docility of the domestic cow and can be easily herded. Recent tests show that the meat is equal, both in quality and texture, to the finest beef. To overcome sterility, the Yak, of Tibet, was introduced into the breeding experiments. For years the male hybrids have evidenced the violence of the first cross by being sterile, but persistent cross-breeding has overcome this difficulty.

WALTER CHANDOHA. world’s most famous cat photographer, tells how

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SOME OF THE CHANDOHA SECRETS IN “HOW TO PHOTOGRAPH YOUR CAT”

Posing cats. Cat psychology. Getting cat to pose when he won’t cooperate. Kittens, puppies, children.

Shooting techniques, indoors and out. Backgrounds. Close-ups. Lighting without elaborate equipment. Color shots. This chapter alone can save you many times cost of book… through color film that otherwise might be misused.

Movies of cats and kittens … and how to be sure they “move.”

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Air Photos Made by Army Pigeons

TINY aerial photos, snapped by a little camera attached to a carrier pigeon, are being made in Germany, where these birds are trained for military purposes. One of the small cameras, fastened to a pigeon’s body, can take six automatic snapshots while the bird is in flight. They give views so clear and accurate that they can be used as the basis for military maps and charts. Thus another office, that of the air photographer, is assigned to the birds that were found to be of great value during the World War.

A carrier pigeon has been known to carry a message as far as 1,040 miles, but one hundred miles is said to be as far as should be attempted with pigeons under a year old. The average rate of flight is thirty-seven miles an hour. During the war the messages were made on a fine paper or film and inclosed in a goose-quill capsule. This was attached by a waxed silk thread to a feather in the pigeon’s tail.

Well-Bred Parrot Uses a Spoon

Bobby, an African gray parrot, imitates the table manners as well as the conversation of his master, John Gillen, of New York City. Grasping a spoon in one claw, Bobby shovels mashed potatoes and strawberry shortcake into his beak in the best society manner. Between spoonfuls, he entertains with table talk.

Owl Declares War on Man

ANYONE who has met a “man-eating” owl is invited to communicate with Professor Albert M. Reese of the University of West Virginia, at Morgantown. Such a bird came to live in Morgantown one day last summer, Professor Reese declares and for a few days actually terrorized pedestrians in one section of the city. Hiding in a tree until some passerby approached on the sidewalk, the vicious bird swooped down suddenly on the unsuspecting humans and struck them violently with its claws. The bird is described as a small one.

Take A Letter, Miss Bunny

TO ALL SPORTSMEN: DOUBLE YOUR PLEASURE FROM HUNTING AND FISHING BY LEARNING TO MOUNT YOUR BEST TROPHIES…

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WILD GAME in growing scarcer. Every specimen you get from now on is doubly interesting and valuable. Mount them for yourself and your friends. Learn quickly in spare time to Restore and Recreate birds and animals no they appear actually ALIVE. Our old reliable school, with over 260,000 pupils, can teach you. Write for free book Today.

FUN and PROFIT,Too!

Taxidermy is a fascinating art and hobby. Profitable, Too! $30, to $80 a month reported by many students from spare time work. Sportsmen want their trophies mounted. They pay well. Learn this money-making art. that is also entertaining. Mount and Tan for others. Turn spare time to FUN and CASH.

ANYONE CAN LEARN No experience necessary. Complete double coarse teaches Taxidermy and TANNING from the beginning. Craft and Novelty Taxidermy, using common or domestic animals, is tremendously interesting and profitable. You can mount humorous groups like the squirrel and rabbit shown above. Great fun.

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Moving Animals of the Circus and Race Track Overnight

How valuable race horses and circus animals are transported from one place to another in record time. Airplanes, ships, trains and huge motor vans are used to carry captive beasts to site of next performance.

“CLOSING in Chicago August 3rd. Opening in New York August 5th. Two weeks later, August 19th, opening in London………” So runs the schedule of a circus booking agent. And in these few scribblings in his notebook is entailed the most picturesque phase of circus life.

Moving circus equipment, with its bulky tents, large wagons and cages, diving pools, ferris wheels and electric generating plant, is difficult enough in itself. But the task of transferring ferocious lions and tigers, monstrous elephants, long-necked giraffes and the hundreds of other beasts that accompany a show is a real one. Likewise, moving immensely valuable race horses from one derby to another without injury to the horse is a problem in which trainers and owners are vitally interested.

A circus or carnival moves into town. It stays several days or a week or two. Crowds throng its shows the final night, and before the last person is off the grounds, crews of workmen begin tearing down the tents in preparation for departure to another city.

Working in the spraying beams of huge searchlights, they are finished in a remarkably short time. The canvas is rolled into bundles, the stakes are ready for shipment, the wagons and heavy cages are given a final inspection. Through all of it, the elephants of the troupe have been doing their bit. Hauling huge tent poles, lifting, pulling, tugging, they are indispensable in the operations. They are the tractors of the circus.

A chorus of bellows, whinnies, grunts and roars greets the train as the animals are led or lifted into their special cars. The engine whistles and is gone.

Next morning residents of the town passing the site where gay flags and bright-colored signs and posters had been displayed, see only the bare spots worn into the green turf where the tents had been pitched. Scraps of paper litter the ground, and hay is scattered about here and there. The circus has moved on and is at that moment probably being put up again in a distant city.

Circus moving in the early days was a tedious and dangerous job. Today, while it is still a difficult problem, modern means of travel and adoption of new types of equipment make it much easier—and faster.

When schedules call for a booking across the ocean, more intricate problems ensue. Special quarters are provided for the animals aboard ship, and huge derricks are used to lift and lower the larger animals to and from the boat. A harness fits around their bodies and the big arm moves them about as if they were mere inanimate packages.

A new wrinkle has recently been demonstrated in moving race horses. They are usually taken from one track to another by train, but transport airplanes have been found to be just as safe and far faster.

A special stall is constructed in the body of the plane, and the horse is hobbled and tied firmly in a frame that holds his head and neck up and prevents him from moving about.