It is very plain that they have some recognition of individuals. For instance, if Lady Eade and myself are both preparing to feed them, they will constantly leave me and walk off to her—doubtless because she is more in the habit of bringing them their favourite kinds of food than I am.
They appear to be quick of _sight_, but show very little, if any, sign of having any impressions conveyed to them by the sense of _hearing_. They evidently possess a full sense of _taste_, for they discriminate instantly between food they like, and that which is less palatable to them.
The daily _habits_ of these creatures are certainly very staid and methodical, and vary but little, except as the season of the year, and the warmth of the day, vary.
They are often, in the height of summer, quite early risers, and on sunny mornings will often be up, and perambulating the garden, and nibbling the little trefoil leaves found amongst the grass, by seven or six o’clock, or even earlier. But, I must say, that these early habits are quite limited to the very finest weather; and it has seemed that in the matter of early activity, these animals always err, if at all, on the side of care and caution. They never leave their beds, or the neighbourhood of cover, if there is the slightest appearance of cloudiness or rain, at least until the day is well up; and for a large portion of their year the time for coming forth is not until eight, nine, or ten o’clock.
In electrical weather they are never lively, even though the day be intermittingly hot and bright; and at such times they are often almost lethargic, and show great indifference as to feeding.
They appear to have an extreme and instinctive objection to rain. Cloudy weather makes them dull. A passing cloud will make them discontinue eating. And the passage of a person or object suddenly between them and the sun will cause them as suddenly to draw in their heads. The dislike of clouds and their accompaniments is therefore a very marked instinct with them.
If not fed, they will go and help themselves, not to grass, but to some white Clover growing with the grass in the garden; or in default of this, to some of the garden plants—by preference the fleshy-leaved ones, such as the Echiveria or Sedum—after which they will retire to some warm place, and bask in the sun. They have a special liking for the warm vine-border in front of my greenhouse; and if the day be not too hot, they will tilt themselves up edgeways against the south wall of the greenhouse, or upon the edge of some tuft of flowers; or if the sun is too warm, they will then cover their heads up with leaves or earth on the bed, leaving their backs uncovered and exposed to the heat. (In this respect they seem to remind us of the habits of the tiger in his jungle.)