Summary

Phil Robinson The Zoo Revisited — VIII.—An Evening Stroll (1894)

Having assured themselves that there is not too much light for them to see by, they perform their toilets, exchange sleepy sunset salutations, and make at once for their evening breakfasts of fruit, nuts, and biscuits. The racoons are out, pretty, gentle-mannered creatures, wearing spectacles, who snuffle in a friendly way as you pass, but there is a white one with queer pale eyes that take the reflection in turn of all the colours of the sunset sky, faint pink and blue, yellow and gray, that snores most unamiably at you.
Source: Wikisource

Phil Robinson The Zoo Revisited — VIII.—An Evening Stroll (1894)

Every time it was dropped the crows of course darted at it, but they always did it once too often, for the lynx, magically recovering from its lameness, would pounce on the bird before it could pounce on the bone. To amuse the crows, and apparently for no other object, the lynx between whiles would give exhibitions of the most abandoned and senseless frivolity, tumble about head over heels, dance on its hind legs, stand on its head, roll over and over, do anything in fact just to interest the crows.
Source: Wikisource

Phil Robinson The Zoo Revisited — VIII.—An Evening Stroll (1894)

The lynx has just got up and, with its face to the wall, is munching its meat in the corner. A queer beast like a magnified Manx cat, and is, in my opinion, the cleverest sportsman of all the four-footed quadrupeds; as clever, indeed, as even the proverbial cart-load of monkeys. When I was in India I entertained for several days a wandering mendicant, who went about the country begging with a lynx at the end of a string. The lynx was a wonder, for, incredible as the statement may seem, it fed itself almost entirely upon—crows!
Source: Wikisource

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