A NATURE RAMBLE IN MALABAR 
47 
that I could almost have touched it with my hand, but it did not 
seem at all anxious to cultivate my acquaintance, as it dived in 
a great hurry when it discovered that I was a two-legged beast 
of the genus Homo. 
But listen ! What makes that unearthly sound like the 
“mew” of an enormous cat? Not a tiger, surely ! No, don’t 
be alarmed, as the owner of the discordant voice has just 
appeared and turns out to be nothing more formidable than a 
beautiful peacock, which sails majestically across the river with 
his head stretched out to the fullest extent of his long neck, and 
his magnificent tail flowing like a train behind him. There is an 
air of regality about him with his crowned head and jewelled 
plumage that entitles him, in my opinion, to the proud position 
of king among birds ; but he certainly ought to keep his mouth 
shut, as his voice is anything but majestic. Whether the “ voice 
of the charmer ” charms his more soberly dressed spouse or not 
is a matter of conjecture. There is no accounting for tastes ; 
but I dare say his gorgeous apparel makes up for vocal peculi- 
arity. “ Fine feathers make fine birds,” you know. 
But do you see that crocodile swimming slowly across the 
river some little distance away ? How exactly like a log he 
looks and, if it were not for the fact that he is behaving in a 
manner contrary to what a well-behaved log ought to do, viz., 
floating across the stream, he might very easily be mistaken for 
one ! But let anything eatable come within reach, and the “ log ” 
proves itself to have a pair of very powerful jaws armed with 
a terrible row of sharp teeth. 
Talking about crocodiles, I may relate a tragedy I saw 
enacted one day while fishing, the victim being a young croco- 
dile, and the perpetrator, that black and shameless villain, the 
crow. My attention was attracted by hearing most distressing 
cries proceeding from a spot a short distance down the river on 
the opposite bank, and, on looking in the direction, I saw a crow 
struggling with something, and, as I thought, being dragged 
nearer and nearer to the edge of the water. Being curious to 
see what was the cause of the commotion, and thinking that the 
bird had been caught by a crocodile, I made my way to a spot 
opposite to where the struggle was taking place. Judge of my 
surprise on finding that it was not the crow that was the victim 
of the crocodile, but the crocodile that of the crow. The reptile 
appeared to be about eight or ten inches in length, and was 
struggling desperately but vainly to reach the friendly shelter 
of the water. Every now and then the crow gave its miserable 
captive a vicious dig with its powerful bill, which caused it to 
cry in the most piteous manner, and renew its struggles for 
liberty with redoubled vigour ; but all to no purpose, as it was 
held as in a vice by the strong claws of its captor. After one or 
two vicious dabs, the crow managed to dig out its wretched 
victim’s eyes, and had I had a gun in my hand at that moment, 
I should have shot the murderous villain dead, and so ended 
