custody, then you can without much difficulty
choke the bird, but a male ostrich costs about 150 pounds, and one
hesitates to choke 150 pounds, even for the sake of one's life,
especially when the valuable bird belongs to one's friend.

Another and perhaps the best plan, if you are caught unarmed, is to lie
down. An ostrich cannot kick you when you lie flat on the ground, he
can only dance on you, and although that process is unpleasant it is not
necessarily fatal.

The ostrich is easily killed by a blow on the neck with a stout stick,
but this is as objectionable as the choking process, on the ground of
cost. In short, the only legitimate method of meeting a savage papa, in
his own field, is with a strong forked pole eight or nine feet long,
with which you catch the bird at the root of the neck, and thus keeping
him at pole's-length, let him kick and hiss away to his heart's content
till he is tired, or until assistance comes to you, or until you work
him near a wall, when you may jump over and escape, for an ostrich will
not jump.

Often have I gone, thus armed, with my friend Hobson to feed the nesting
ostriches. The risk of attack, I may mention in passing, is not great
when two men go together, because the bird seems undecided which foe to
attack, and generally ends by condescending to pick at the mealies,
(Indian corn), which are thrown down to him.

One morning Hobson and his eldest son Six-foot Johnny and I mounted our
steeds and rode away to the field in which one of the male ostriches
dwelt with his meek brown wives. The wives are always brown, the
husbands are jet-black, with the exception of those magnificent and pure
white feathers in wings and tail which are so much prized and worn by
the fair dames of Europe. Hobson carried a sack of mealies at his
saddle-bow.

There were several male birds on the farm, all of which were
distinguished by name. There were "Master," and "David Marais," and
"Black Jack," and "Blind-boy," (minus one eye!) and "Gouws," etcetera.
Our visit that morning was to David Marais. David was by far the
fiercest of the lot, but he was excessively fond of mealies, and could
be attracted--though by no means appeased--by these.

"Johnny," said Hobson, as we cantered along by the side of the little
stream which caused a strip of bright fertility to wind like a
green-snake over the brown Karroo, and which was, as it were, the
life-blood of the farm, "Johnny, I want you to go to