STORY OF THE PECCARY. 
In South America I made the acquaintance of a gentleman who had 
a large plantation which had suffered much damage from the frequent visits 
of a herd of peccaries. 
He finally located the sleeping place of the herd, and at his invitation I 
accompanied him upon a peccary shooting expedition. He chose a cloudy 
morning, with threatening rain, for on such days the peccary will not leave its 
lodgings unless compelled. Before we started a fine drizzle came on, which 
made the day all the better for our purpose. The peccary’s mode of sleeping 
is peculiar. They usually frequent those heavy canebrakes, through which 
are scattered, at wide intervals, trees of enormous size and age. These, from 
their isolated condition, are most exposed to the fury of storms, and, there¬ 
fore, most liable to be thrown down. We find their giant stems stretched 
here and there through the canebrakes, overgrown with the densest thickets 
of the cane, matted together by strong and thorny vines. In these old trees 
the peccaries find their favorite lodgings. Into one of these logs a drove of 
twenty or thirty of them will enter at night, each one backing in, so that 
the last one entering stands with his nose at the entrance. The planters, 
who dread them and hate them, as well on account of the ravages on their 
grain-crops which they commit, the frequent destruction or mutilation by 
them of their stock—their favorite dogs, and sometimes even their horses— 
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