CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
FEEDING IN THE WILDERNESS.
"I hope Master Ebony is not offended," said my uncle, wiping his face."Perhaps it is only his way. Now, Nat, get some sticks and make a goodfire, while I lay the cloth and cook. That's the evil of being alone,we have to prepare and cook for ourselves; but we'll have a treatto-day."
I soon had a fire burning, and then watched Uncle Dick as with sharpknife and clever fingers he quickly skinned the four pigeons, placingtheir skins where they would not dry, and then busying himself over thebirds.
"Won't you have some dinner first, uncle?" I said, for I was terriblyhungry.
"First? No, my boy, not till we have cooked it. You don't want to eatyour birds raw, do you?"
"What! are you going to eat those--those--"
"Pigeons?" he said, as I hesitated. "To be sure, Nat; why not? Do yousuppose that because birds have bright feathers they are not good toeat?"
"Well, no, uncle," I replied, as I thought of pheasants, and that at onetime people used to eat the peacock; "but these birds have greenfeathers." It was a very stupid remark, but it seemed the only thing Icould then say.
"Ah! they'll be none the worse for that, my boy," he said, laughing, ashe removed the birds' crops on to a great leaf which I held for him."We'll examine those after dinner, Nat, so as to see on what the birdsfeed. If I'm not mistaken they eat the large fruit of the nutmeg forone thing."
"Then they ought to taste of spice, uncle," I said, laughing.
"Wait a bit, Nat, and you'll see how good these fruit-pigeons are. Now,cut with that great jack-knife of yours a good sharp pair of bambooskewers, or spits, and we'll soon have the rascals roasting. We can'teat the insects, but we can the birds, and a great treat they will beafter so much shipboard food."
"That they will be, uncle," I said, as the pigeons, each quite double orthree times the size of one of our home birds, were stuck before thefire, and began to send out a nice appetising smell.
"Then you won't be too prejudiced to eat them?" he said, laughing.
"Oh, uncle!" I said, "I'm so hungry I could eat anything now."
"Well done, Nat. Well, my boy, as long as we get plenty of specimens toskin we sha'n't starve. Turn that skewer round. That's right; stick ittightly into the sand, and now let's have on a little more wood. Pickup those old cocoa-nut shells and husks, and put on, Nat."
"Will they burn well?" I said. "I was afraid of putting out the fire."
"Splendidly, my boy. The shells are full of oil, and will send out acapital heat."
We were obliged to nibble a biscuit while we waited, and anxiouslywatched the frizzling and browning birds, for we were terribly hungry.
"I hope they won't be long, uncle," I said.
"So do I, Nat," he replied; "but what a splendid dining-room we have gotout here! Isn't it lovely, my boy, under this blue sky and shadingtrees?"
"Hundreds of times better than going to a picnic at Bushey Park, uncle,"I said. "But you talked of eating the birds we shot. Thrushes would begood, wouldn't they?"
"Delicious, Nat, only so very small."
"But you wouldn't eat parrots, uncle, lories, and paroquets, and thesesort of birds?"
"Why not?" he replied, turning his skewer, while I imitated him, itseeming to be settled that we were each to have a couple of pigeons forour dinner.
"I don't know why not, uncle," I said thoughtfully, "only it seems soqueer to eat a Poll parrot;" and as I spoke I could not help thinking ofpoor Humpty Dumpty, and all the trouble I had had. "It seems queer," Isaid again.
"But why does it seem queer, Nat?" he said, smiling. "Come, my boy, youmust throw aside prejudices."
"Well, you see, uncle, they have got such hooked beaks," I said, in ahelpless sort of way.
"Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed. "Why, what a reason, Nat! I might as wellsay I would not eat snipe, or woodcock, because it has such a longstraight beak. Turn your skewer, Nat. They are beginning to smellmaddeningly nice. They're as fat as butter. Nothing like a walk suchas ours to give you an appetite. There, take the big tin and go andfill it with Adam's ale."
I ran to the rock pool and filled the tin with the cool clear water, andcame back to the fire.
"They'll soon be done, Nat," said my uncle. "Yes, my boy, I should eatparrots, and shall eat a good many, I hope. Why, look here, Nat, whatdo parrots eat?"
"Sop and seed and sugar," I said.
"Yes, when they are shut up in a cage at home, Nat; but fruit, my boy,in their native state. There, you may take that as a rule, that allbirds that live on seed or fruit are good for food."
"And those that live on prey, uncle, are bad," I said.
"Well, no; that won't do, Nat. Parrots are delicious. I've eatendozens. And so are some birds that live on small prey--ducks and geese,for instance, eat a great many live things; and the birds that live oninsects are, some of them, very good. I think we may say birds of lightdiet are all good, and draw the line at all carrion or raptorial birds.I should not like to eat hawk, owl, or anything of the crow family; butthere is no knowing, Nat, what we might do if half-starved, and that'swhat I am now. Nat, my boy, the birds are done. Now for a gloriousfeast! I'm sure I shall pick the bones of my two."
"And I'm sure I shall, uncle. I was never so hungry in my life."
"Then now to begin, my boy; give me that tin plate and say grace, if weare in the wilds. What's become of all the savages?"
"Oh, uncle!" I cried, "here comes our guide. He wasn't offended."
"Thunder!" cried Uncle Dick, with a comical look of disgust; "he hascome back to dinner."
"Yes, uncle," I groaned, as I looked at the pigeons; "and he has broughttwo great hungry fellows with him."
"Fetch the guns, Nat," cried my uncle in comical wrath; "let's fight indefence of our prey. No, don't; we must bribe them with biscuits togo."
Uncle Dick looked at me in a miserably resigned way, and it all seemedso droll that these blacks should come up just as we were preparing forsuch a feast, that I leaned back against the cocoa-nut tree by the fireand laughed till I cried.
Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas Page 21