Chapter IV: Part 4

"These two dogs were often observed to go to a certain point together, when the small one remained behind at a corner of a large field, while the mastiff took a round by the side of the field, which ran up-hill for nearly a mile, and led to a wood on the left. Game abounded in those districts and the object of the dogs' arrangement was soon seen. The terrier would start a hare, and chase it up the hill towards the large wood at the summit, where they arrived somewhat tired. At this point, the large dog, who was fresh and had rested after his walk, darted after the animal, which he usually captured. They then ate the hare between them and returned home. This course had been systematically carried on some time before it was fully understood."

Every animal has a definite language which is quite sufficient to express the desires and emotions of its nature, and to make them intelligible, not only to its own species, but also to other animals and sometimes to human beings. Those which do not actually speak by means of a voice, make signs or mimic understood things so as to be perfectly intelligible. If animals had no language, they could not instruct their young. The young of animals in a civilised country are far wiser than the old ones in wild, uninhabited countries. This can be explained only by the knowledge which the young receive from their parents.

It is not uncommon for animals belonging to widely different species to speak the same language, and thus become great friends. A friend in Texas once owned a cow whose sole companion was a small black goat. One day the young goat followed the cow home from her grazing place, and from that time on they were constant companions, even occupying the same stall in winter, sharing the same food, and always sleeping near each other.

If one shoots a monkey in South Africa, and wounds it, allowing it to escape, there usually come droves of its kinspeople, screaming and chattering the most diabolical language, seeking to revenge the wrong done their tribe. Nothing demonstrates plainer that they have a common language; otherwise, how could they understand that one of their number had been wounded? It is because of the communication of ideas by a common language among animals that hunters so fear to allow a wounded animal to escape at the beginning of their hunting season in certain localities. A wounded bear who escapes, for example, will spoil the entire season for hunters by spreading the alarm among his people.

ROOSEVELT'S COLOBUS. THESE HORSE-TAILED MONKEYS CHATTER TOGETHER IN A LANGUAGE EXCLUSIVELY THEIR OWN, YET THEY SEEM TO HAVE NO DIFFICULTY IN MAKING THEMSELVES UNDERSTOOD BY OTHER MONKEY-TRIBES.]

Near our country home in Texas my sister found a very young red deer one morning just outside the garden, and bringing it into the yard, soon had a wonderful pet in this dainty spotted child of the woods. We knew that its mother was not far away, and so we placed salt and food just where the baby was found, to attract the mother's attention. In a few days, we saw the mother, and shortly afterwards five grown deer were seen eating the food we had placed for the mother. Evidently the news had been carried through the pine forests that it was safe for deer to come near our home. My sister's pet grew rapidly, and became a great friend of our yard dog. They often played by running races together, the deer would leap over the fence and the dog would chase him with great delight. Surely, they must have had a spoken common language!

No one claims that in the language of animals there are principles of construction such as we find in the human languages. The term Barbarian means those whose language is only a "bar-bar," and this is really all that the sound of an unknown tongue implied to the cultured Athenians. The neighing of horses, the howling of dogs and wolves, the mewing of cats, the bleating of sheep, the lowing of cows, the chattering of monkeys and baboons is nothing more nor less than their language. And it is quite as intelligible to us as is the chattering of the Hottentots of Africa. Because we do not speak the languages of our animal friends does not take away from the genuineness of the languages; we might as well claim that because our horse does not comprehend what we are saying, that we are not speaking a language!

Animals and men, under normal conditions, have been friends and companions since the beginning of time; and in order that they may convey ideas to each other, it is necessary for them to have some sort of means of communication.

As a matter of fact, animal language is quite often intelligible to man. Their language might be likened to that of a young child that cannot pronounce distinctly the words we commonly use; and yet we get the meaning from the intonation and gesture.

Any man who has ever owned a horse understands the meanings of his various actions and vocal expressions. There is the neigh of joy, upon returning home after a hard day's work, the neigh of distress, when he has strayed from his companions, the neigh of salutation that passes between two horses when they meet, and the neigh of terror when enemies are near. There is also the neigh of affection that is often given to his master when they first meet in the morning. Thus, spoken words are not necessary to express elemental feelings.

Elephants readily understand most of the words uttered by their masters. Menault tells of an elephant that was employed to pile up heavy logs. The manager, suspecting the keeper of stealing the grain set aside for the elephant, accused him of theft, which he denied most vehemently in the presence of the elephant. The result was remarkable. The animal suddenly laid hold of a large wrapper which the man wore round his waist, and tearing it open, let out some quarts of rice which the fellow had stowed away under the voluminous covering.

Animals have the power to make themselves understood by man, especially when they are in distress and wish man to help them. And they often combine to help one another. I was on a sheep ranch in western Texas once when one of the sheep came bleating up to the camp late in the afternoon. She uttered the most distressing calls. A friend, whom I was visiting, assured me that something unusual was wrong. Together we followed the sheep back to where she had been feeding in the pasture, she going forward in short spurts and continually looking back to see if we were coming. She finally led us to an old well, and we heard the plaintive voice of her young lamb that had fallen in. As the well had no water in it, and was only about six feet deep, we secured a ladder and in a few minutes the lamb was restored to its mother. She seemed delighted at the successful outcome of the accident. She had come and told us her troubles and got aid.

Cats are gifted linguists. By mewing they can just as plainly express a desire to have a door opened or closed as if they requested it in so many words. A friend has furnished me with an interesting account of her cat's ability to make herself understood. It seems that the cat, with her three small kittens, at one time slept in a box prepared for her in the kitchen. But one night when it was particularly cold, some one left the kitchen window open, and late in the night the cat went to her mistress's bed and mewed continuously until her mistress arose and went to the kitchen and closed the window. The cat was perfectly satisfied, as she had made her great need understood.

The ability that animals have to make their own language understood by man is not the only linguistic power they possess; as already mentioned, they are also capable of understanding something of human speech. There is no doubt that all domesticated animals understand the human language; the horse, dog, ox, and sheep comprehend a large part of what is said to them, though of course they may not understand the precise words used.

I once owned a rabbit dog, "Nimrod," and if he never understood another word of the English language, there is no doubt that he knew what the word "rabbit" meant. No matter in what manner or way I used the word, Nimrod was ready for a hunt, and yelped with glee at the thought of the chase that he was to have. I tested him over and over again by saying "rabbit hunt" gently; it thrilled him with delight, and while he was not very well educated in other things, he always lived up to his name.

The Rev. J. G. Wood speaks of the great individuality of character which he has observed in dogs, and that they unquestionably understand the human language. "There was in my pet greyhound 'Brenda,' there was in my dear lurcher 'Smoker,' and there is now in my dear lurcher 'Bar,' and in my three setters 'Chance,' 'Quail,' and 'Quince,' a refinement of feeling and sagacity infinitely beyond that existing in multitudes of the human race, whether inhabiting the deserts or the realms of civilisation.

"I cannot better define it than by saying that, if I give these dogs a hastily angered word in my room, though they have never been beaten, they will, with an expression of the most dejected sorrow, go into a corner behind some chair, sofa, or table, and lie there. Perhaps I may have been guilty of a hasty rebuke to them for jogging my table or elbow while I was writing, and then continued to write on. Some time after, not having seen my companions lying on the rug before the fire, I have remembered the circumstance, and, in a tone of voice to which they are used, I have said, 'There, you are forgiven.' In an instant the greyhound Brenda would fly into my lap, and cover me with kisses, her heart tumultuously beating. After she grew old, her joy at my return home after a long absence has at times nearly killed her; and when I was away, the bed she loved best was one of my old shooting-jackets, but never when I was at home."

The impassable gulf which the writers of old created between mankind and the animal kingdom was based mainly upon the belief that animals had no language, but this has been proved a mistake and no longer exists. In the light of modern knowledge and a better understanding of the marvellous theory of evolution, we are thoroughly convinced that there is no break whatever in the long chain of living beings. Man has no art, has developed no thing whatever, no mode of language or communication, that is not to be found in some degree among animals. They are capable of feeling the same emotions as human beings, and are therefore subject to the same general laws of life. No science has been more beneficial than psychology in proving that they are human in all ways; no discovery made by the human mind is so poetical and of such value as that which leads mankind to recognise some part of himself in every part of Nature, even in the language of animals.

This knowledge of all life is recognised by thinking men the world over, removing forever that artificial barrier by which, in his ignorance and prejudice, he has separated himself from his lower brothers, the animals, denying unto them even a means of intelligent communication. This recognition of the existence of a common language will go far toward establishing the universal brotherhood of all living creatures.

VIII

IN THEIR BOUDOIRS, HOSPITALS AND CHURCHES

_"Never stoops the soaring vulture
On his quarry in the desert,
On the sick or wounded bison,
But another vulture, watching
From his high aerial look-out,
Sees the downward plunge and follows,
And a third pursues the second,
Coming from the invisible ether,
First a speck and then a vulture
Till the air is dark with pinions."_

Many animals show a surprising knowledge of medical and sanitary laws, but these laws vary in the different species as much as they do among humans. Animals are divided into as many classes and social castes as are mankind; and those that have advanced beyond the nomadic life, and have fixed homes with servants and luxuries, naturally are more refined in the matter of their personal care.

Science may yet prove that the old legend of the mermaid sitting on a rock, with a glass and comb in her hand, was not so far from truth as we imagine. No doubt, the bright-eyed seals looked like sea-maidens to many ancient mariners. The originator of the mermaid stories had possibly seen seals making their toilettes. These beautiful and affectionate human-like creatures of the water, wear, attached to their front flipper, a handsome comb-like protuberance. When they rest on the rocks, they use this little comb to brush the fur on their faces; and the Northern fur-seals, when the weather is warm, use their flippers as fans. The secret of teaching seals to play tambourines is due to their desire to comb their fur and fan themselves!

Members of the cat family are, perhaps, the cleanest of all animals, with the exception of some of the opossums. Lions, panthers, and pumas dress themselves very much as the domestic cat performs her toilette. They use their feet, dipped in water, as wash cloths, and their tongues as combs and brushes. Hares also use their feet to wash their faces, and this they do very often, to keep their exquisite hair in perfect condition. Dogs enjoy wiping their coats against green grass and shrubs.

Certain animals are so fastidious that they have community beauty-parlours! Goats, deer, giraffes, and antelopes, for example, are very particular about their personal neatness and cleanliness, and they come together to assist each other in making toilettes. One of the reasons that animals suffer so much in captivity, especially when alone, is that they have no one to help them dress, and some of them, such as the giraffe, cannot reach all parts of their bodies. I have seen a young guinea pig that had been rescued from a mud puddle being cleaned by both of his parents. Water-loving animals, like the beavers, seemingly take great pride in their toilettes, and in this respect they show more human traits than any other animal.

It is a general belief that animals are quite care-free, and that when they awake in the morning there is nothing for them to do but play or wander about. This is a mistaken belief, for they have to dress themselves, and this not only means a bath in many cases, but a smoothing out of their fur and hair. Some are shy and seek the darkest places to dress themselves, others, like the dog and cat, seek the hearth. Every one has possibly seen a cow and horse licking each other, and it is generally believed that this implies special friendship between the two, but this idea is incorrect; it only implies mutual aid in making their toilettes. They have a beauty parlour, and thus aid each other. In no way are animals better prepared to teach man than in their methods of personal cleanliness, and this means health. Their utilisation of clay, dust, mud, water, and even sunshine to keep their health, far exceeds that of mankind. In fact, man's first knowledge of simple, natural health remedies came from animals. This wisdom they have acquired by ages of instinct and reason, for theirs has been the normal life, whereas man's is often abnormal. Each animal is his own specialist. However, when an animal becomes too ill to doctor himself, he is treated by another. I have seen a horse licking the wound of one of his fellows to stop the pain.

WATER-LOVING ANIMALS, LIKE THE BEAVERS, SEEMINGLY TAKE GREAT PRIDE IN THEIR TOILETTES. THEIR FUR IS ALWAYS SLEEK AND CLEAN.]

GREAT FOREST PIGS OF CENTRAL AFRICA. LIKE THE COMMON DOMESTICATED HOGS, THEY WILL SEEK A CLAY BATH TO HEAL THEIR WOUNDS.]

Animals know better than man what kind of food they need, for the simple reason that their tastes are natural, while man has allowed his to become perverted. In times of sickness absurd practices have been observed. Ice-cream and buttermilk, for example, were for ages refused to typhoid fever patients, while to-day they are generally used under such circumstances. But the natural desire for sour and cold things was always in evidence; animals have always depended upon these desires.

Among them are skilled dietitians, who restrict their diet in case of illness, keep quiet, avoid all excitement, seek restful places where there is plenty of fresh air and clean water. If a dog loses his appetite, he eats "dog grass," while a sick cat delights in catnip. Deer, goats, cows, and sheep, when sick seek various medicinal herbs. When deer or cattle have rheumatism, they invariably seek a health resort where they may bathe in a sulphur spring and drink of the healing mineral waters. They also know the full value of lying in the warm sun.

Cats are skilled physicians, and have various home remedies, such as dipping a feverish foot into cold water, or lying before a warm fire, if they have a cold. Many animals know how to treat a sore eye--by lying in the dark, and repeatedly licking their paws and placing them over the afflicted member.

How wonderful would the human race become, if it had the strength of a lion, the power of a bear, the wisdom of an elephant, the cleverness of a fox, and the health of the wild boar! But these qualities are found chiefly among the animals because of the marvellous knowledge of the laws of health and self-preservation.

John Wesley claimed, in his directions on the art of keeping well, that many of the medicines which were used among the common people of his time were first discovered by watching animals in their medical practices to cure their ills and pains. "If they heal animals, they will also heal men," he claimed. The American Indians learned most of their cures from watching animals, especially the cure of such diseases as fever, rheumatism, dysentery, and snake-bites. A rheumatic old wolf would bathe in the warm waters of a sulphur spring; a sick and feverish deer would eat the fresh leaves of healing ferns, while a wounded hog or bear would always seek a red-clay bath to heal the wounds. Sick dogs will invariably eat certain weeds, and an unwell cat will seek healing mints and grasses.

Old hunters tell us that a deer after having been chased for several hours by dogs, and after having escaped them by swimming a cold stream, will, upon reaching safety, lie down in the ice and snow. If a man did such a thing, he would immediately die. But not so with the deer, for he will arise about every hour and move around to exercise himself, and on the morrow he is perfectly well. The same animal, shut up in a warm barn for the night, as has many times been demonstrated with circus animals, will be dead by morning.

From this natural method of healing, mankind may learn much, and especially as it pertains to the treatment of extreme heat, cold, exhaustion, and paralysis of the muscles, and most especially sores and wounds. I have seen a wounded hog that had been badly bitten by a dog, wallow in rich red mud to stop the flow of blood.

It is a common practice for a raccoon actually to amputate a diseased leg, or one that has been wounded by a gunshot, and wash the stub in cool flowing water. When it is healing, he licks it with his tongue to massage it, and also to stop the pain and reduce the swelling. This wisdom is often classed by the unknowing under the term instinct, whereas it displays no less skill and knowledge than that of our modern surgery. The intelligence of the raccoon stands very high in the animal world.

Foxes, when caught in a trap, will very often gnaw off a limb. This requires a special power and a moral energy that few men possess.

William J. Long, in the _Outlook_, tells of an unusual proof of animal surgery in the case of an old muskrat that had cut off both of his forelegs, probably at different times, and had grown very wise in avoiding man-made traps, and when found, had covered the wound with a sticky vegetable gum from a pine tree. "An old Indian who lives and hunts on Vancouver Island told me recently," said Mr. Long, "that he had several times caught beaver that had previously cut their legs off to escape from traps, and that two of them had covered the wounds thickly with gum, as the muskrat had done. Last spring the same Indian caught a bear in a deadfall. On the animal's side was a long rip from some other bear's claw, and the wound had been smeared thickly with soft spruce resin. This last experience corresponds closely with one of my own. I shot a bear years ago in northern New Brunswick that had received a gunshot wound, which had raked him badly and then penetrated the leg. He had plugged the wound carefully with clay, evidently to stop the bleeding, and then had covered the broken skin with sticky mud from the river's brink, to keep the flies away from the wound and give it a chance to heal undisturbed. It is noteworthy here that the bear uses either gum or clay indifferently, while the beaver and muskrat seem to know enough to avoid the clay, which would be quickly washed off in the water."

Animals not only know how to doctor themselves when they are sick, but some of them, such as the fox, have learned how to make artificial heat by covering green leaves with dirt. And while they do not make fire, their homes are often heated in this practical way, and thus sickness avoided. Domestic horses and dogs wear hats in summer, and possibly in the future they will learn the enormous importance of wearing clothes! Trained monkeys already take great delight in dressing up, and dogs like smart suits.

Monkeys show the greatest interest and brotherly love when one of their number is injured. Watson tells of a female monkey that was shot and carried into a tent. Several of her tribe advanced with frightful gestures, and only stopped when met with a gun. The chief of the tribe then came forward, chattering and remonstrating vigorously. But as he came nearer, there was every evidence of grief and supplication for the body. As he was given the body, he affectionately took it in his arms and slowly moved to his companions, and like a silent funeral procession they all walked away.

Nor does their interest cease with life, for we are told by no less authority than Col. Theodore Roosevelt of a large grizzly bear that was discovered lying across the trail in the woods. The hunter shot her as she was preparing to charge him, and later he examined the spot where she was lying, and found that it was the newly made grave of her cub. Evidently some animal had killed the cub in her absence, and she, in her grief, was determined to avenge the wrong by lying in wait for the enemy.

Public meetings for civic council and religious worship are not confined to man alone. In Macgrave's _History of Brazil_ we are told of a species of South American monkey known as the ouraines, which the natives call preachers of the woods. These highly intelligent creatures assemble every morning and evening, when the leader takes a place apart from the rest and addresses them from his pulpit or platform, Having taken his position, he signals to the others to be seated, after which he speaks to them in a language loud and rapid, with the gestures of a Billy Sunday, the audience listening in profound silence. He then signals again with his paws, when all cry out together in apparently confused noises, until another signal for silence comes from their leader. Then follows another discourse, at the close of which the assembly disperses. Macgrave attempts no explanation as to the object of these addresses; but if his accounts be true, surely they must have as much meaning for the monkeys as many of our public lectures and church services have for us! No doubt much of the advice imparted concerns the personal and collective welfare of the tribe members.

IX

SELF-DEFENCE AND HOME-GOVERNMENT

_"In the days of yore, when the world was young,
Sages of asses spoke, and poets sung;
In God's own book we find their humble name,
Some enrolled upon the scroll of fame."_

There is no phase of animal life which is more interesting than that through which Nature governs and protects her children. Each and every species of animal possesses the method of self-defence and protection best adapted to it. Most of the larger animals are of themselves so powerful that they need no protection other than that afforded by their strength, while most of the weaker and less aggressive animals are provided with some special method of defence.

The tiger, lion, panther, and wolf have formidable claws and teeth; while the shark has such immense jaws that he can sever the head of a goat at one bite. And most of them are in reality tyrants. They rule by tyranny--the oppression of the weak by the strong, whether that strength be physical or mental,--a trait as common in animals as in man. Among the animals it takes the commonest form, and they not only oppress the weak, but actually kill and eat them, even though they oftentimes are members of the same family. They are exactly like human cannibals, no better and no worse.

Flight is perhaps the simplest and most natural method of defence. The swifter animals, however, such as deer, gazelles, and hares, which may easily escape by running their fastest, do not always use this method, but have other means so ingenious as to be real arts. Wolves, when they see that they are outnumbered, will sometimes escape by following the exact tracks of a single leader through the snow, and from all appearances only one has passed the way over which a hundred may have gone. Hares will separate and run in opposite directions, while gazelles, if too closely pursued, will jump to one side and lie flat on the earth to escape notice, and as soon as the enemies have passed, run in the opposite direction.

It oftentimes happens that aggressively disposed animals, like cowardly men, are apt to try battle with the unlikeliest adversaries. A missionary from India tells the story of an alligator who was enjoying a noonday sleep on the bank of a river, when an immense tiger emerged from the jungle, made straight for the sleeping saurian until within leaping distance, when he sprang on the alligator's back, and gained a strangle hold before the sleeping monster could awake. At first the tiger was master, for the alligator could not bring his huge jaws into action, and while lashing viciously at the tiger with his tail, he was dragged into the jungle. What happened there no one could see, but in a few moments the tiger dashed out of the jungle and disappeared in the cane brakes, and the alligator reappeared and crawled into the water.

The ape and the baboon are the most skilled of all animals in making their flight. They use every method known to man, and because of their swiftness of action excel man in certain ways. Like man, in the face of danger, they show great bravery and never lose their presence of mind. The ape is fast disappearing before man, but against other animals and Nature he can well protect himself. He is even braver than the lion, who in captivity allows himself to be petted, but rarely is this true of the ape, and then only when conditions seem insurmountable.

In making his escape from an enemy, the ape directs his flight in the most self-possessed and human-like way, never losing his head, and taking advantage of the first shelter or protection that he meets; if the young, or females, or aged linger behind, a strong army of males bravely returns to rescue them at the danger of losing their own lives. Many of their brave deeds, if recorded in history, would compare favourably with those of mankind! Too often has a poor, sickly ape, which by his very feebleness allowed himself to be captured and placed in a zoo, been compared to human beings. Even in spirit and movements he has been considered as a human caricature and heaped with ridicule. We have continually considered his defects, without noticing his better qualities. We would have a much higher idea of his great family, if we would take a human derelict and compare him to an ape ruler! This comparison would be more just.

Certain of the baboon tribes which live among the rocks of high mountains and cliffs, if pursued by enemies, protect themselves by ingeniously rolling immense stones down upon their foes. They also hurl with great force small stones about the size of one's hand. As these tribes have each from one hundred to three hundred members, they constitute a formidable grenade army!

In addition to their skilled methods of flight, the baboons, apes, and monkeys come next to certain of the cat tribes as the greatest fighters in the animal world. This is astonishing when we remember that these animals are not professional warriors, nor do they have to fight to obtain their food. Their greatest defence is their quickness and powers of biting. When they are attacked by a dog, they usually bite off a foot or an ear, or leave him minus a tail!

One of the bravest and fiercest of fighters is the bull-dog. Three of these animals together have been known to capture and hold a large bull. Deer, when fighting among themselves, often play more than anything, and are not serious. Red deer seldom injure one another with their long antlers, but they could easily kill a dog or even a man. Stags, however, often fight to death, in some instances locking horns and tumbling over a precipice.

The most ingenious of all the horned fighters is the sable antelope, whose clever system of self-defence might well be taught in war-schools. His horns are long, sharp-pointed, and bend backwards. When wounded, or attacked by wolves or dogs, he lies down, and scientifically covers his back by rapid fencing with his pointed horns. He can quickly kill any dog that attacks him in this way.

Occasionally great battles take place between a buffalo and a lion, or more often two or three lions attack a buffalo, who rarely escapes them. The strength of a lion is almost beyond our comprehension when we remember that one can actually carry a cow over an ordinary-sized fence.

THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT HAS MANY MEANS OF DEFENCE, NOT THE LEAST OF WHICH IS HIS AGILITY IN CLIMBING TO INACCESSIBLE PLACES.]

WILD BOARS ARE AMONG THE MOST FEROCIOUS OF ANIMALS. BY MEANS OF THEIR GREAT STRENGTH ALONE THEY ARE WELL ABLE TO DEFEND THEMSELVES.]

A most unique fighter is the giraffe. He has neither claws nor sharp teeth with which to defend himself; so, if he gets angry with one of his kind, he deliberately uses his long neck like a pile driver would use a sledge hammer. Swinging it round and round, he lets his head descend upon his adversary like a heavy ax! The two animals use the same kind of tactics, and bracing themselves so as to stand the blows, they fight until one has to give in. Their heads are furnished with two small knob-like horns which only protect them from the heavy blows without serving as offensive weapons.

Most singular and amusing of all methods of self-defence are those which entirely depend for their efficiency upon bluff, or pretence. The chameleon, for example, erects his snake-like hood, though he is harmless, and at the most could scarcely injure the smallest animal. Equally curious are the methods of skunks and polecats, which project against enemies a highly disagreeable fluid.

Passive modes of defence are as many and varied as are the active; one of the strangest and most inexplicable of these is that known as spontaneous amputation, technically termed autotomy. The lizard, for example, when captured, will abruptly break loose his tail in order to escape; and certain wood rats, when caught, loosen the skin on their tails and deliberately slip away. Autotomy not only permits flight, but also defends the animal against the most adverse conditions. Nearest akin to this--defence by means of amputation--is the practice of bears and raccoons of amputating their limbs when caught in steel traps.

Mimicry, which is treated under another chapter, comes under the head of passive defence, and form and colour play an important part in it. Strangely enough, animals which have never resorted to mimicry as a means of protection, when associated with others who practice it, take on the habit themselves. This may possibly be due to the fact that new enemies are constantly arising.

As human sharpshooters dress in garments of the same colour as the woods in which they hunt, so many animals use this principle of imitation. The colour of most animals is very similar to their surroundings. This enables them to lie in wait for prey, a practice as old as the hillsides with animals. They have learned the extreme value of silence, and that they must remain at times motionless. This is especially noticeable with crocodiles, which wait for whole days without moving, concealed in the water or deep grass, until their prey comes within striking distance, when they pounce upon it. The same is true of the python snake, which hangs from a tree so immovable that he appears like a vine or a branch of the tree. If an animal attempts to pass, he drops upon it.

Perhaps the most unique and successful method of passive defence is the feigning of death, or "playing 'possum" met with in several animals, such as the red fox, the opossum, occasionally the elephant, and several of the snakes. On many occasions I have been 'possum hunting in the South and found my dog barking at an apparently dead 'possum. As soon as these animals are approached by larger and stronger enemies, they drop absolutely motionless on the ground and close their eyes as though they were dead. Here they remain until the enemy either destroys them, carries them away, or leaves them alone. If left alone for a few moments, they immediately spring to their feet and make their escape.

Elephants often feign death when captured, in order to gain their liberty. Animal catchers tell many interesting tales of elephants feigning weakness from which they fall to the earth and later apparently die. In many instances the fastenings are removed from their legs and head and the carcass is abandoned as useless, when to the utter astonishment of all--before the captors get out of sight--the animal springs up and dashes away to the forest, screaming with joy at the triumph of its deception.

Many animals deliberately assume a frightful, terrifying or grotesque appearance. This they do by inflating their bodies, by erecting hair, skin, or folds, or by unusual poses. Darwin speaks of the hissing of certain snakes, the rattle of the rattle-snake, the grating of the scales of the echis, each of which serves to frighten or terrify the enemy.

Bluffing is another form of defence that many animals use. The cobra, for example, when disturbed, raises its immense hood in a most terrifying attitude! Many of the lizards use the same tactics; while the horned toads of America when disturbed actually eject blood from their eyes. Every one is familiar with the cat's habit of raising the fur on his back when molested by a dog. All bluffing animals, when in danger, try to assume a pose that will make them look most dangerous and impressive to their enemies, and there is little doubt that in most cases they succeed very well, for we have all seen a dog slink away from a menacing cat.

The elk or moose, whose home is in the northern part of America and Europe, is a powerful and large animal, sometimes seven feet in height, and is able to endure much cold. He has many enemies among animals and mankind, and during the summer season he is quite able to protect himself, but in winter there is considerable danger from hordes of wolves. This is especially true just after a heavy snowstorm, if the snow is wet and melting. When it is dry and frozen, he can travel over it with great speed, and this he does by a most unusual trot which carries him along much faster than the trotting gait of a horse. Thus he is able to escape the hungry, carnivorous wolves, whose courage increases with appetite. If crowded too close, he is able also to protect himself by the most terrific blows of his fore-feet.

But when the spring weather sets in, and the snows begin to melt underneath, leaving the upper crust sufficiently strong to support the weight of lighter and smaller animals, such as wolves, especially when they travel swiftly, he is in great danger. For with every step he sinks to the belly in the snow, while his enemies can walk right up to his head and shoulders without his being able to strike or paw them with his dangerous hoofs. The advantage seems to be with the wolves, and if ever they bring the moose to bay in the snow, his life is doomed. For they care little for his arrow-like horns, but boldly jump at his throat and kill him. Herein comes the elk's wisdom--he deliberately sets to work, before the snow melts, and builds for himself and family an elk-yard, which is nothing more than a large space of ground on which the snow is smoothed or trampled down until it becomes a hard surface on which he can walk; it is also surrounded by a high wall of snow, through which are certain exits that allow him to pass out, if he desires. All the enclosed space is not smoothed down, but parts of it only are cut up into roads through which he may pass very swiftly. Woe unto the daring wolves that enter his snowy fortification--his "No Man's Land"--- for sure death awaits them!

A sense of law, order, government; the sacredness of family ties--all these aid in the protection of animals. Family life with them originated just as it did in the human world. The social instinct and the moral sentiments which arise from social relations in man and animal are the same. Moral obligations, especially in relation to family ties and conjugal unions of animals, are in many cases sacred binders to such ties. The bear, for example, is proverbial for his conjugal faithfulness. The married life of most animals is strictly moral, and most of them are monogamists and have reached the highest form of family association and life.

In those places where they live promiscuously, it gives them the same protection in herds as it does among our lower savages. Cattle, sheep, and horses unite for mutual protection; wolves band together in packs; and after they have been domesticated there is still not only a strong desire to band together for social purposes, but also to hold courts of justice. It sometimes happens that an angered husband takes the law in his hands, like uncivilised men, and beats his wife.

In the development and organisation of social and civil life the horse and the goat hold the foremost position. It corresponds to that of man among the lower animals. They do not believe in monarchies, but strictly in republics, or rather, a democracy where all power comes from the working class. The claims of the working class to the exercise of supreme control in all political affairs are practically realised. Among a herd of wild Arabian horses, the leading stallion, or so-called king, is really only the father of the tribe; his functions are paternal rather than regal. If he may be said to reign in a certain sense, the true workers rule, and his scouts and sentinels obey his wishes which the workers have influenced and formulated.

The existence of but one king leaves no room for dynastic troubles and rivalries which disturb, so often, our human countries and empires with such dreadful results. If two rival kings arise at the same time in a herd of horses, instead of forming factions in the state which end in civil war, they fight it out personally until one of them is killed or defeated. Once in a great while the other horses intervene, and drive the less desirable, or the false-claimant of power, away from the herd and its grazing territory. In these troubles the real king has little or no power, all activities are carried on by the workers.

If by chance he dies or is captured, another king, chosen by the herd, immediately assumes the kingship. It is a well-known fact that if the king of a herd of wild horses is caught, it is not uncommon for his herd to remain as near him as possible, and in their attempt to release him are often trapped themselves. The king has no heirs, either apparent or presumptive, and no right of succession is recognised. Any member of the herd, provided the workers choose him, may become the king, as every American school boy is a possible president of the United States.

Among many animals there is a perfect social and industrial organisation in which the division of labour is far better adjusted than in many human organisations. This, of course, is the result of gradual growth and evolution just as it is in the human species. This can easily be proved among animals by their more primitive and savage habits. Monkeys, for example, in civilised monkey communities, differ very greatly from those of wilder and less trained districts. They are constantly changing their habits, becoming more and more civilised by improving their methods of work and their moral and religious life as well. In many cases they have ceased to kill members of their own tribe for small offences for which they used to kill, and the cleanness and beauty of their home lives seem to increase with the years.

It oftentimes happens, however, that powerful ape and baboon colonies relapse into barbarism, and roam, plunder, rob and murder, like a pack of uncivilised wolves or hyenas. They seem all at once to forget their peaceful industries and lose all desire for clean and right living. And strangely enough, when they once turn bad, they seldom reform. Some naturalists believe that they are led astray by a wicked king or ruler who comes into power; the natives believe the evil spirits have suddenly taken possession of them.

There is unquestionably, in the life of many tribal animals, a definite historical connection between the mother tribe and its colonies. This relation extends to the tribes of tribes, and thus there is an international relationship between the various members of a large number of tribes. These communities share the same likes, dislikes, hatreds, and aspirations. A missionary friend told of his experience with monkey folk, and how once, when hunting, his gun was accidentally discharged, instantly wounding a large semi-tame baboon near his home. He hastened to help the injured animal, but saw that the relatives had crowded around and were terrorised, as they thought it was intentional. They not only followed him to his home, but returned in the night and actually tore his fence down. For months he was afraid to leave his wife alone during the day. And the natives reported that large tribes of monkey folk immediately came into the community from remoter regions and were distinctly on the war path. It was evident that their unjust antipathy was extended to all the kinspeople.

This is evidence of hereditary enmity, such as is common among families, tribes, and clans, and it often takes the form of feuds, which are still in vogue in the mountainous counties of the South. The baboons had suffered wrongs and never forgot it, and it was transmitted to their offspring.

BRONTOSAURUS. THE ANIMALS THAT SEEMED BEST EQUIPPED TO DEFEND THEMSELVES ARE THE ONES THAT, THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO, BECAME EXTINCT.]

The ability to use weapons, tools, and war instruments is not exclusively human. Even fish are capable of reaching their prey at a long distance. The _toxotes jaculator_, which lives in the rivers of India, and feeds upon insects, cannot afford to wait until the insects which thrive upon the leaves of aquatic plants fall into the water. So as he cannot leap high enough to catch them, he fills his mouth with water and squirts it at an insect with such aim and force that he rarely fails to knock the insect into the water where he can easily catch it. Many other animals squirt various liquids, occasionally in attack, but most times in defence. The fish makes a veritable squirt-gun of his mouth.

Beavers use sticks, chips, and even stones in building their dams; and their engineering abilities are astounding. They are also capable of meeting emergencies, as shown by the following incident. A farmer in Michigan discovered one morning, just after a flood, that all his potato sacks, which had been hung on a back fence to dry, had suddenly disappeared. A few days later he found them in a nearby beavers' colony, used in rebuilding their dam, which had suddenly overflowed. The beavers wasted no time, when they discovered their danger, in meeting the emergency by using the sacks to prevent the destruction of their home.

Monkeys make skilled use of clubs and stones in capturing their prey and fighting their enemies.

The skill with which some of them throw pebbles would lead us to believe they have already reached the degree of civilisation that many tribes of savages had reached only a few years ago, when they learned to use the boomerang and lasso. Some naturalists claim that monkeys actually set pitfalls for their enemies and lie in wait for them to be caught, just as a hunter would do.

Elephants also know the value of clubs in warfare, and will often use a broken limb of a dead tree as a weapon of defence. The story is told and vouched for by Mr. William B. Smith that on his farm, near Mount Lookout, a few years ago a donkey grazed in the same pasture with a ferocious bull. He was frequently attacked by the bull, and always got the worst of the fight. His feet were no match for the bull's horns, but one day the mule grabbed a long pole in his mouth, and, whirling it about, almost killed the bull, and henceforth the two lived on the best of terms in the same pasture.

I have a friend who owns a cow that knows exactly how to lift an iron latch to the barn door with her tongue and open the door. Innumerable times she has opened a gate in the same way to permit her calf to go free with her. So skilled is she in the manipulation of doors and latches that we are tempted to believe in some previous state of existence she was a professional lock-picker!

Cats and dogs are famed for their ability to open doors by pulling latch-strings. And not a few cats show a strong desire to study music by walking up and down the keyboard of a piano!

Monkeys who live near the seashore show wonderful aptness in opening oysters and shell-fish with sharp stones, exactly as a man would do. Monkeys have already reached the degree of civilization where they select the stones best suited for their work, and from their progress in the past it is reasonable to believe that in the near future they will not only be able to make their own tools--thus placing themselves on a mental footing with our flint-chipping ancestors of the early stone age,--but will also learn the use of fire and eventually the use of guns and ammunition, which marks one of the most important epochs in the evolution of the human species.

The chimpanzees, gorillas, and apes of the African forests have many times been observed in the act of piling brushwood upon the fires left by travellers, and though they do not know how to kindle a fire, they have learned how to keep it burning. The tame ones soon learn how to ignite matches, and often do great harm by starting forest fires.

But they show quite as much intelligence about the use of fire as the average small child. In fact, it has been thought by a number of great scholars that man had not yet made his appearance upon the earth in the miocene age, and that all the marvellous chipped flints of that age belong to semi-human pithecoid apes of wonderful intelligence. There is surely nothing in the facts of natural history, nor in Darwin's theory of evolution, that makes such a supposition unbelievable.

Baboons use poles as levers, stones as hammers, and seem to understand the more simple mechanical devices. Prantl claims that man is the only animal capable of using fire but not a few baboons know how to strike a match, heap dried leaves over the blaze to make it burn, and then heap on dead wood to feed the fire. This knowledge with them, exactly as with primitive peoples, is a product of long experience and does not show any mathematical truths or principles any more than making a direct cut across a field implies "knowledge of the relation of a hypothenuse to the two other sides of a right-angled triangle." This is what Prantl calls "spontaneous mathematical thinking."

I knew of a tame ape in Chicago that learned to swing from the end of a clothes-line and seemed to enjoy it very much. The line was just the right length and properly hung so as to allow the ape to swing out from a kitchen window and touch the ground. Just for fun, some one cut a piece from the line so that he could not reach the ground; immediately the ape hunted another piece of cord, tying it to the end of his line so as to increase its length, and much to his delight, continued to swing on the line.

The distinctive features of animal protection and home government, especially in the higher groups, may compare favourably with any of the methods used by civilised man. This is true both of their offensive and defensive contrivances and for their monarchies and republics. They use shells, scales, plates of every kind, with innumerable modifications for various purposes--spines and allied armaments--all shapes and sizes; poisonous secretions, deadly odours, strong claws and teeth wielded by strong muscles, and form colonies that are more than a gregarious association. In most cases, they have communities composed of individuals living individual lives, yet which act in cases of need as one unit.

X

ANIMAL ARCHITECTS, ENGINEERS, AND HOUSE BUILDERS

_"The heart is hard that is not pleased
With sight of animals enjoying life,
Nor feels their happiness augment his own."_

The most popular and perhaps the most interesting department of natural-history study is that which treats of the manner in which animals utilise the various materials of the universe for purposes of protection, for war and defence, for raiment, food, and even the luxuries of life. Man, by his superior power of adaptation, excels the lower animals in providing for the comforts of life; but, on the other hand, in such practical arts as engineering and domestic architecture man frequently finds himself an amateur in comparison. With all man's inventions he has not been able to equal some of the remarkable results produced by some animals. The beaver, for example, shows a more profound knowledge of hydraulics than man himself. The power possessed by these craftsmen, not only in felling trees, but in duly selecting the best places for making homes and in appropriating substances suitable for their needs, is a never-ending marvel!