EARLY DAYS 5 
almost horizontally and catch it one-handed by the neck. Having 
successfully “fielded” the bird it was necessary to hold its neck hori- 
zontally, or with its head held as low as possible, for in that posi- 
tion an ostrich is unable to kick. Failure to accomplish this ~ 
promptly would probably spell disembowelment, for a downward 
thrust with the bird’s powerful claw is quite sufficient to rip one 
open from head to foot. The white man’s prestige has always to 
be considered, so the indignity of disembowelment had to be 
avoided at all costs. Assuming that one has survived this ordeal, 
one has to slip a sock (carried for the purpose in one’s pocket) 
over the bird’s head. This effectively blindfolds him and renders 
him helpless, and in this condition he can be led, by throwing an 
arm over his back and holding him tightly, into a pen where 
the feather-plucking business takes place. 
In the breeding season the ostriches were put in pairs into sepa- 
rate paddocks, as at that season the cocks become very aggressive 
to one another and are then extremely dangerous to human beings. 
Getting to and from our house, which was situated in one of these 
paddocks, was rarely without excitement. At daybreak the cock 
bird was invariably hanging round the house—sometimes peck- 
ing at the window while we were eating breakfast—and always 
ready to dash at either of us if we poked our heads out of a door. 
At this early hour in the invigorating morning air he was aggres- 
sive beyond words. To get out of the house I used to open the back 
door and heave a bucket of water over him as he was about to 
strike. This so infuriated him that his attention was glued mo- 
mentarily on this particular door. At this moment my brother used 
to shoot out of another door and run like a rabbit to the fence 
which was twenty-five yards away—vaulting it in his stride. The 
ostrich usually spotted this maneuver, but was so intent at having 
a go at me that he was too slow in getting off the mark to make 
up the necessary leeway. It was then my brother’s turn to entice 
him along the fence sufficiently far from home for me to make the 
dash. At such times I often used to think of the legend—undimmed 
by time—of the ostrich burying his head in the sand to hide from 
an enemy. What I would have given for this bird to hide /zs for a 
few moments! 
When incubating their eggs, ostriches do twelve-hour shifts— 
