The following is my translation of an article called: Vom Hamster von Arno Marx, Leipzig. It appeared in a German popular science magazine, Kosmos Handweiser für Naturfreunde 1913, Heft 1, Seiten 5-8. Astute readers may notice something about the beautiful illustrations that so enriched the original article. They're not included here, so please draw your own. I was hopeful that, unusually for Kosmos writing of this age, we would get to the end without the death of any of the subjects of the report. Unfortunately, it transpired that when the author was a lad...
I'm not aware of any previous translation.
Trevor Dykes.

About the hamster by Arno Marx, Leipzig
A country land branches off from the main road, which the people call the post road, and this runs for a while between two rows of cherry trees and leads to the semi wild meadow. Only when the neighbouring fields are planted or harvested, or when the shepherd leads his herd across to the wheat stubble or to clover, will people come here, and for the greatest part of the year this path lies lonely and unused between the cereal, turnip and potato fields. This is when the young hares use it as a race track, wheatears and pipits dash around the scree that has been distributed by storm waters, and larks and quails, corn buntings and partridges bathe in the fine, sun warmed dust.

On the edges of the path are two wide grass verges on which, in the spring, grow daisies and dandelions, and later Corn poppies and larkspur, cleaver, thistles and wild poppies provide a colourful picture. Here, in the dense, dwarf forests of the lane weeds, live the populous race of the Field mice, and they construct, flattened, wonderfully meandering and branching passages and soft nests in the mass of shrubs. Other tracks, not trodden as flat and not bitten as clear of all stalks, lead through the grass forest to the fields, and the vertical holes in the ground. Somewhat to the side are large hills of crumbly, yellow earth, and these are next to half dug, diagonal tunnels leading into the ground. The vertical 'fall hole' and the gentler 'drive in' to the side are the entrances to the residence of the notorious hoarder, the hamster. In the afternoon, when the Sun has nicely warmed the earth and the wind blows less strongly, this colourful character can be met in the open. If one avoids any noise and creeps closely, in the manner of a hunter along the grass grown fringe of the lane, then one can get fairly close and watch it going about its business.

The hamster sits long in front of the 'fall hole', testing the breeze and looking and listening in all directions until its believes everything is safe. Then it cleans itself. Its white gloved front paws rub and stroke nervously across its white, rust yellow striped cheeks, over the pink white nose, clean the sand coloured upper head and scratch and comb its fur until it is pristine and flat. Then the tongue travels over the sides of the body, licks the white patch on the shoulder until it is soft and spotless, the long yellow incisor teeth snap and pluck at each smear on the dark fur of the stomach and the clay coloured fur of the back. Finally, the creature looks as clean and woolly as if an artist had produced it from many coloured cotton. There remains only a raw place on each side of the upper thigh which, despite all efforts, does not want to disappear. This is next to the nose of a sleeping hamster, and there are always hairless patches there; whether hair grows there at all, or whether its growth is discouraged is uncertain but, in any case, young, half-grown hamsters already have such bald patches.

When the hamster finally believes that it is pretty enough, then it rushes forwards to its work. There is always something to be carried home. In the spring it cuts young shoots from seedlings or clover leaves, shoves them into its cheeks pouches with its adept front paws so tightly, until the hamster cheeks are grossly swollen like thick cushions reaching out to its shoulders. If the crops are ripening, then the thief slices through the stalk close to the ground, tugs the seeds, bites them free and shoves those into its swag bag. On the yellow earth hill next to its burrow, or perhaps on a bare spot in the forest of stalks, it will strip and rub the corn from the chaff, and then stuff them back into its cheeks so as to carry them back to the burrow. It usually loses some of the corn, which then seeds and shows the farmer at harvest where the hamster was 'threshing'. Should the corn and wheat fields be bare, then this keen seed collector will nevertheless find some stray ears and, as it searches for them day after day, it is easy to understand how its larder can come to contain 15 pounds of corn, and sometimes even more. (Additional note: a German 'pound' equals 500g.) Should the stubble fields be fallow, then the hamster will collect slithers of carrot, and it will also carry small pieces of potato back to its burrow, indeed, it would also be satisfied with harvesting the fruit from the verges of the lane, or with plum stones, which lie around on the road.

When it has such unlikely things stuffed into its cheek pouches such as plum stones or plantain corns or a long piece of straw to upholster its nest, then the hamster makes an unspeakably funny impression, and if one laughs at it when the cheeks are stuffed with nesting material, then one can tease and ridicule it without punishment. It could not bite even if it wanted to, but it will screech and jump at its tormentor, and make itself look terribly angry. During this, it will stroke at it cheeks with great haste in order to get rid of its very uncomfortable burden. If it manages that, then one must watch out, as the little furball is capable of climbing up one's clothes and delivering a bite into the naked hand. Usually, however, it prefers to back away, run quickly to its fall hole and, once inside, one will not catch sight of it again.

In the days when we preferred to read the travel adventures of Karl May, we boys had thought out a number of methods for catching hamsters. We could dig them out from the stubble fields, but that was no allowed on seeded land. It was also impossible for them to be driven out of their holes with water there, as it took too long for the soil to soak up enough moisture, the burrow remained stable and its resident was not forced to leave. So we sharpened a stick, bored it through the earth until its point was visible in the fall hole, and then we went home. On the next day the hamster had forgotten about the disturbance. Then we caught a Field mouse, which always came easily to hand, returned very quietly to the hamster burrow, and let the prisoner slip into the fall hole. Generally, it quickly came out again with the disturbed and angry crop thief chasing behind it. A quick hit on the stick meant the entrance to the burrow was barred, and when the hamster turned its back to us, so as to dig through next to the stick, we grabbed it by the tail and threw it onto the field, do that we could catch it there after protecting our hands with cloths. However, our trick often did not work: we heard the mouse squeaking, but it never came back out because the hamster had bitten it to death, and ate it as we departed with long faces.

If all we wanted was the fur of the pest, then we set a small rat trap next to the fall hole, and baited it with bread. It was not rare that we were witnesses when a hamster was caught. Hardly had it found the bread with its nose, it rushed forward and made a grab with both its front paws and teeth, so as to tear it free; then the trap struck and smashed the spine of the hopeful thief.

We were masters of hamster digging. If, more than anything else, we wanted a large amount of grain to feed our pigeons or chickens, then we would attack a burrow with only a wide fall hole where the soil had been trodden flat. That would bring a mature male into our hands, and he would have had much time for collecting corn. Burrows with a number of narrow fall holes delivered females with young, sometimes ten or twelve of them; we dug those out when premiums were being paid for hamsters.

Some years, the fields were awhirr with hamsters when the looser earth was especially suitable. If the plague were large, then the seed was in danger of being completely destroyed by the rodents, the cabbage fields swarmed with the pests, eating almost everything in their need, and the same cause threatened to leave the beetroot and field beet full of holes. During such years, many hamsters would also migrate into the villages to find themselves gardens, and from these they took the grape from the vines, fallen fruit, cabbage, carrots, peas, in short anything edible they could find. They even pressed into the forests, which they otherwise avoid, so as to collect acorns and Beech nuts. When they are as numerous as that, one can also find, and not all too rarely, an unusually coloured one, uniformly brown, cinnamon coloured, a black or even a completely white one, and more frequently abnormally patterned ones with their colours distributed in ways other than usual.

How it occurs, that the hamsters sometimes reproduce in such masses in some years, is understood as little as is the case for mice and rabbits. Perhaps the year 1912 was so incredibly rich with them as the previous year had been very dry, and very many therefore survived the winter. Should they all do their utmost to find a soft, warm nest with a well stocked larder, so as to dream their way through the hard seasons, then if water found its way into the burrow, the hamster would get ill and must die; the winter food supplies of many would also rot due to the collection of unsuitable foodstuffs. Carried in clover or bits of turnip will also fail to keep them satisfied and happy, and they would have to leave the burrow early in the year to search for something palatable and, indeed, one can sometimes find their tracks in the snow or surprise them on the surface.

However, most of them do not leave their burrows between November and March, the fall hole is narrowed with soil, the entrance is blocked up, and they sleep or, if more lively, they will eat and meet all physical needs in their home. When digging hamsters out, one is sure to come across a tunnel leading off to the side and ending at a small hollow. That is the hamster's indoor toilet.

This form of hunting provides one with understanding about something which is usually accepted without much thought, but is in reality highly remarkable. The fall hole of a hamster is round like a circle, flat and, as stated, one never finds a crumb of soil next to it, but there is a great pile of earth doming by the other entrance. This circumstance is of great utility for the hamster. If it sits near the fall hole, then every dog or fox, assuming it is not approaching against the wind, will first investigate the obvious pile of dirt and sniff around that entrance, and this gives the crop thief time to save itself, even if it were not directly by the fall hole. If one chases a hamster that is fleeing from its burrow, then it is always surprising how suddenly it can vanish into the fall hole. Thus one sees for oneself how ideal it is, how practical it is, that this hole is so inconspicuous and built hidden between plants. But how can the hamster dig, how can the hamster build, without earth flying out in masses? One finds the solution when digging out hamsters with the discovery of an incomplete 'fall tunnel', and this leads from the burrow to fairly near the surface, having been dug from below and not from the opposite way. The rummager must take the excavated soil out to the entrance, and that is why the large hill is next to it, and that is where all earth from the rest rooms, larder and any alcoves is deposited.

The highly suitable success of the vertical, unobtrusive fall hole has naturally been produced completely unintentionally. The hamster does not know why it proceeds as it does, but it probably simply prefers working indoors rather than outside, where it is unsafe. It does not do so because of planning. Even if it looks apparently thoughtful, as it stands on its legs and stares unmovingly at approaching people, it is neither deep in thought nor 'cheeky' nor 'stupid'. Its intelligence simply is not enough to provide understanding about the processes involved. Rather, when it receives a scent or spies a clumsy movement; then it travels quickly back into the burrow.

Hawk, buzzard, harrier and Red kite catch it without difficulty if it comes out of the burrow during the day. Before knowing anything of the approaching danger, it would already be dead. By dusk, owls attack some and are unconcerned about the screeching protests of the victim. Should dogs have once found enjoyment from a hamster hunt, then they will take some on every walk due to their excellent sense of smell. The fox will also catch many, and the martin and stoat. Their bitterest opponent, however, is the large weasel, which will overpower them after a hard struggle; even small weasels trust themselves to attack the young. The number of the enemies is large but, nevertheless, the hamster does not die out. Where possible, they will provide their assailant with active resistance, but more effective in the cause of the continuation of their kind are more passive methods. A female has babies twice a year, both times between five to fifteen, and even the horde of enemies cannot defeat such mass production.

An index of more of my translations of old Kosmos articles can be found at:

Kosmos Translations Archive

A number of Mesozoic (and post-Mesozoic) location summaries can be found at Localities.