#cabruahua

[ironychan]

We have finally identified one of our mystery animals!  We still don't know what the Large Herbivore is, or what killed the macawk in the grass, but we have a face for the Night Screamer.

Having made an uneasy peace with our fowl neighbours, we resumed poking around cataloging the local flora.  In the process we discovered our second ungulate, a cute little fellow only about thirty centimetres tall at the shoulder.  Like the hookhorns it appears to be some kind of goat, though its horns are very short and rounded, kind of like a giraffe's.  There turned out to be four of them - and a dog.

Yes, these things have their own watchdog. Like the ones that accompanied the hookhorns, they are very similar to the goats in build and colouration.  All five animals were under the cover of low plants and appeared to be sleeping until we discovered them.  That woke them up, and the watchdog took up a defensive position between us and its charges and began to bark and snarl furiously.  Not wanting our toes to be savagely gnawed, we retreated.

Wang wants to call the ungulates Cabruahuas, like a cross between Cabra (goat) and Chihuahua (chihuahua). There's still no sign of any other humans here, so the dogs probably aren't trained... but if they just do this, then why?  They don't seem to be getting anything out of it.

This has been bugging me ever since Kibwana and I first saw the hookhorns, so I did what any sensible person would clearly do. Figuring these must be nocturnal, I sat up in a nearby broccotree half the night to watch what they did - and I still don't believe what I saw.  After dark the cabruahuas came out to start nibbling on low foliage, while the watchdog caught mice and birds that the herbivores disturbed.  Then when the goats settled down to do some cud-chewing, the dog went to two different ones and nursed.

I'm pretty sure the dog is an adult, so why is it drinking milk?  Most adult mammals can't digest milk, humans are actually weird that way.  Fresh milk doesn't seem like a good enough reason for the dogs and the ungulates to stick together like this, so there must be something else going on.  We're just not seeing it yet.

After a short rest the little herd and their companion wandered off further into the woods and I decided to head back.  I didn't want to nod off and fall out of the tree.  I had just touched the ground when the Night Screamer started its yowling, sounding like it was right next to me.

I don't even remember climbing back up the tree.  I clung to the trunk as it got louder and louder, and closer and closer.  I thought I was about to be killed by Bigfoot or something.  Then it emerged from the rhubarb and revealed itself to be this bizarre koala-cat thing, no bigger than the goats, that proceeded to howl like a tortured soul six or seven more times.  It swiveled its huge ears listening to a reply that came from somewhere out across the grassland, and then seemed satisfied and started climbing the tree.  For a moment it was startled to find me there, but I was evidently not threatening, because the little tree gremlin just gave me a contemptuous look and continued on up.

The noise may be a way of establishing territory or something.  I really don't care.  I'm just glad it wasn't big enough to eat me.  This one doesn't need a new name, it's been a Night Screamer since day one, and a Night Screamer it may stay.