Family VII. Phascolomyidæ.
(Wombats.)
Genus Phascolomys. (Geoff.)
The general form of this animal strongly reminds one of some of the Cavies, but is more clumsy and massive. The head is large and bluff,
WOMBAT.
with the upper part flattened; the eyes very small, the ears also small and pointed; the nostrils widely separated. The limbs are short; the feet broad, and naked beneath; the claws large and solid, those of the fore-feet but slightly curved, and, as has been said above, formed for digging.
The arrangement of the teeth may be thus expressed:—inc. 22; can. 00; mol. 5—55—524.
The only known species of the genus is that called by the natives of Australia the Wombat or Wombach, (Phascolomys Wombat, Peron,) which is found scattered over the whole southern part of New Holland and Van Diemen's Land. It was discovered in 1798, on an island near the coast of New South Wales, by Captain Bass, from whose Journal we extract the following graphic details of its form and manners:—
"The Wombat, or, as it is called by the natives of Port Jackson, the Womback, is a squat, short, thick, short-legged, rather inactive quadruped, with great appearance of stumpy strength, and somewhat bigger than a large turnspit dog. Its figure and movements, if they do not exactly resemble those of the bear, at least strongly remind one of that animal . . . . The hair is coarse, and about one inch and a-half in length, thinly set upon the belly, thicker on the back and head, and thickest upon the loins and rump; the colour of it a light and sandy brown of varying shades, but darkest along the back."
"This animal has not any claim to swiftness of foot, as most men could run it down. Its pace is hobbling or shuffling, something like the awkward gait of a bear. In disposition it is mild and gentle, as becomes a grass-eater; but it bites hard, and is furious when provoked. Mr. Bass never heard its voice but at that time: it was a low cry between a hissing and a whizzing, which could not be heard at a distance of more than thirty or forty yards. He chased one, and with his hands under his belly, suddenly lifted him off the ground without hurting him, and laid him upon his back, along his arm, like a child. It made no noise, nor any effort to escape, not even a struggle. Its countenance was placid and undisturbed, and it seemed as contented, as if it had been nursed by Mr. Bass from its infancy. He carried the beast upwards of a mile, and often shifted him from arm to arm, sometimes laying him upon his shoulder, all of which he took in good part; until, being obliged to secure his legs, while he went into the bush to cut a specimen of a new wood, the creature's anger arose with the pinching of the twine; he whizzed with all his might, kicked and scratched most furiously, and snapped off a piece from the elbow of Mr. Bass's jacket with his grass-cutting teeth. Their friendship was here at an end, and the creature remained implacable all the way to the boat, ceasing to kick only when he was exhausted. This circumstance seems to indicate that, with kind treatment the Wombat might soon be rendered extremely docile; but let his tutor beware of giving him provocation, at least if he should be full-grown. Besides Furneaux's Islands, the Wombat inhabits, as has been seen, the mountains to the westward of Port Jackson. In both these places its habitation is underground, [the animal] being admirably formed for burrowing; but to what depth it descends does not seem to be ascertained. According to the account given of it by the natives, the Wombat of the mountains is never seen during the day, but lives retired in his hole; feeding only in the night; but that of the islands is seen to feed in all parts of the day. His food is not yet well known; but it seems probable that he varies it according to the situation in which he may be placed. The stomachs of such as Mr. Bass examined were distended with the coarse wiry grass; and he, as well as others, had seen the animal scratching among the dry ricks of seaweed thrown up upon the shores, but could never discover what it was in search of. Now the inhabitant of the mountains can have no recourse to the sea-shore for his food, nor can he find there any wiry grass of the islands, but must live upon the food that circumstances present to him."
Mr. George Bennett, in his "Wanderings in New South Wales," has confirmed the supposition that the Wombat is not confined to one sort of vegetable food. Of one which was kept in a state of domestication, at Been, in the Tumat country, he observes, "It would remain in its habitation till dark; it would then come out and seek for the milk vessels, and should none be uncovered it would contrive to get off the covers, and bathe itself in the milk, drinking at the same time. It would also enter the little vegetable-garden attached to the station, in search of lettuces, for which it evinced much partiality. If none could be found, it would gnaw the cabbage-stalks without touching the foliage. Although these animals were numerous in the more distant parts of the colony, they are difficult to procure, from the great depth to which they burrow."
The indifference manifested by Mr. Bass's Wombat to its being handled, and carried with the back downward, must be regarded as an indication of a very low degree of intelligence. Until there was actual pain, the animal was placidly content in its novel circumstances, manifesting none of that anxiety and fear that animals of higher intelligence display when suddenly placed in unusual places or positions. Nor is this a solitary case. Mr. Bass himself, in a note to the above account, observes that "the Kangaroo and some other animals in New South Wales were remarkable for being domesticated as soon as taken." Indeed, the whole of the Marsupialia, though some are of active and sprightly manners, present but little appearance of real docility or intelligence; and this fact, connected with the low degree of development of their brain, helps to prove their inferior rank to the placental Mammalia.
The flesh of the Wombat is described as being excellent meat; and as it is of considerable size, attaining the length of three feet, it might be worth naturalizing in this country. This would probably be effected without any difficulty: specimens that have been brought to Europe, having lived for several years as domestic pets. The individual that was dissected by Professor Owen in 1836, and which was the subject of a valuable Memoir by him, on its anatomy, had been in the Gardens of the Zoological Society between five and six years.