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TS TOS Sree S——— oe
INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS
———
Intelligence of Animals,
WITH
ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES.
CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO.,,
654 BROADWAY.
1870,
oa aceite SNR tet IS oe
Lllustrated Sibrary of Wonders.
PUBLISHED BY
ditessrs. Charles Scribner & Co.,
654 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
Bach one volume 12mo.
Titles of Books.
WONDERS OF OPTICS,
THUNDER AND LIGHTNING,
WONDERS OF HEAT, :
INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS, .
GREAT HUNTS,
Eeypt 3,300 YEARS Ago,
WONDERS OF POMPEII,
SUBLIME IN NATURE,
BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN,
WONDERS OF THE HEAVENS,
WONDERS OF ARCHITECTURE,
ACOUSTICS, : 4 :
WONDERS OF THE HUMAN FRAME,
LIGHTHOUSES, C .
SUBTERRANEAN WORLD, .
Ce ee
Price per volume, $1.50.
.
No. of [llustratiois.
40
39
2 : . . , 114
e €
ee € 5 Fs
* In Press for carly publication.
ce
SG
The above works sent to any address, post-paid, upon receipt of the price
by the prublishers,
By tranefa
Bo 18
aoe
|)
ANS io ° ‘ ° : seis We : . . eck
SPIDERS . - ° : 5 : A “ 5 s o 4
BEES . - : : : ; “ : é ee
EWUMBEEODEES!c 5 6) 4 ese os ee a, ME ciety VOTE SESS Hi
FLEAS AND Bucs . : ° ° 5 ° . . 27539
REPTILES AND BATRACHIANS ROE te Cua hie Ree ines ER BAW) pW |
THE SNAKES . . ° ° . . “ “ ° - 49
THE LIZARD . e One a 4 0 - Se : ot 153
TORTOISES. . . ° ° entpitie . apie 3 156 i
THE SALAMANDER . : 6 <i “ sig at omits 3) 5 OE |
BareOowKsMCATED TOAD ., -.. ¢, 2. «iy win! lea i
igh. 3 ee eae eek : 5 ae Ge |
BIRDS . : ° : : 5 : ° : - 88 if
Meee ot eS eo ge Gl ee |
BEEMG@OCNOOS ie ea, ee wy ol oy | th
JACKO (THE GREY PARROT) . “joan Seay e 70 5 a 120 !
TH, BAGILIS, Sh Sa ie ete mai ee ern yt ee 5:
VARIETY OF BIRD INTELLIGENCE . ° : . . 2, 534
THE SWALLOWS. oe, Satu See ° . : 939
THE RAVEN, ROOK, AND MAGPIE. : . : . - 146
THE PARTRIDGE . . : . : : - . - 152
THE GOLDFINCH . : : : : : : : Beets |
THE CANARY : . : 5 . ° ° : - 159
vi CONTENTS.
THE SLANDERED BIRDS . Bes
TURKEYS. : 5 2 °
THE CRANE AND THE DRAKE
THE MAMMALIA . :
CETACEA. é - °
THE MARSUPIALIA . e e
THE EDENTATA : ° .
THE RODENTIA e e
RATS A : ° ° 5
HARES AND RABBITS e -
THE BEAVER . 4 e 5
THE RUMINANTS . = °
THE CAMEL—THE LLAMA
OXEN -
THE STAG
SHEEP, GOATS, AND ANTELOPES
PACHYDERMATA .
THE ELEPHANT : :
THE HORSE . 5 :
THE Ass : : : :
SWINE .
THE CARNIVORA . 5 :
THE CAT : . 5 5
THE WOLF : 5 .
THE Fox o ° ‘
THE DoG
QUADRUMANA . 5 :
THE ORANG-OUTANG
THE CHIMPANZEE
| |
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. |
AG
1. The Orang Outang Mimicking a Man. . Frontispiece. es :
2. Ants, winged and wingless (workers). A : . : 2 i
3. The Ant bending a Corn-leaf. . . : aitnalet 2 te 6 ;
4. The Ants with the Cockchafer’s Wing. : s - 7 |
5. The Ant carrying the Beetle’s Leg... : : : siees (c3 ‘|
6. Web Lines spanning a Stream. . ; ; - 9 |
7. The American Geometrical Spider and Web. : : a aa Ni
8. The Honey-Bee. : ; : 90, Slane |
9. Death’s-Head Moth Aelia the selaves, . : ° ets |
Io. Trained Fleas at Work and at Drill. . . ‘ : » 40 ; !
II. Sagacious Bug dropping from the Ceiling. - 5 : Be say. 7. i
12. Snakes in Leading-strings. ‘ ; ; : : « 49 i
13. Snake swimming after its Mistress. . . . * « SI ad
14. Tortoise under a Wagon-wheel. f. WRe 2AM Neh ach Ue ASG ‘i
15. The Stickleback and its Nest. . 5 Maite hes i ,
16. Bandaging a Pike’s Fractured Skull. . : : : 2). Bg i
17. The Carrier Pigeon flying Straight for Home... ‘ - O4 ve
18. The Goldfinch giving notice of his Master’s Arrival. . Pe |, i
19. The Ostrich burying her Eggs in the Sand. 2 - 7 AGO, i
20. The Magpie defending her Nest. : : : ; = | FO2
21. The Bird detaching a piece of the Mortar. . . . = 104 i
22. The Cockatoo. . . : : : : * 118 i
23. The Eagle seeking his Bee : : - say Revs « 129 i
24. A Lesson for Bad Mothers. ‘ : : ‘ . oe
25. Combination among the Swallows, . ° : : a) 42
26. The Raven fights for the Wine. . ‘ A A e lay
Z7ene Crisis. : : : : ; 6 : : 7 253
28. Love in a Cage. . : : ; ; ; “ : B56
Vili LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
29. Goose Attachment.
30. A Goose Acting as Guide. . : :
31. The Drake leading the Lady to the Redcue™ 3
32. The Bear tending her Young. . ‘
33. Rats following an Army. : . : ; 5 :
34. Rats attacking the Spirit Casks. 5 ee os SAN eae ee ek
35. The Hare running ina Straight Line. The Rabbit Doubling
Back i ° 2 5 5 eit cay ae eee
36. Beaver building a ‘Wall. : ; : : : : . 226
37. The Camel about to be Loaded. : ; a” Oe ear
38. The two Rivals. . : ; ag, is tS 2a5
39. Stag endeavoring to deceive the Hounds : : : » 243
40. The Elephant protecting a Dog. : : : : . 264
41. The Elephant acting asa Nurse. : : : e205
42. The Elephant rescuing a Soldier. ; . 5 : - 267
43. The Elephant becomes a Courtier. : 5 : : . 269
44. Fidelity of a troop of Bavarian Horses. . : : - 279
45. A Musical Connoisseur. : : , ‘ : ; ou 207
46. Wolves attacking a Flock. . : : : . : - 305
47. A Fox irying the Ice. : : : : - . 315
48. The Shoeblack’s Dog. : : : : : 4 eee y |
49. The Dog at the Convent Door. . : : : é 2) 2330
50. Vaillant Rescuing the Blind Dog. : “ . 3 . 342
51. Moffino’s Return from Russia. . 4 : : ; - 346
52. The Fishing Dog. A p ; 5 E 345
53- The Dogs and their Dead Masten : eee A - 351
54. Chimpanzee at Table. : 5 : : Bad - 367
PRED ACE:
—~
‘THE marvels of animal intelligence claim now, more than
ever, the attention of observers. Without admitting, like
some people, that we come from a quadruped; without
approving the beast worship of the Egyptians; we believe
that most animals which crawl or walk on the earth, or fly
in the air, form communities like ourselves. We believe
that the lower animals possess, in a certain degree, the
faculties of man, and that our inferior brothers, as Francis
of Assisi calls them, preceded us on the earth. We agree
with Montaigne, Réaumur, La Fontaine, George Leroy, and
Frederick Cuvier, in the intelligence of animals; we admit,
with Cabanis, that there exists an intimate connection
between the organisation and the intellectual faculties ;
and, with Gall, that the intelligence principally operates
‘through the brain. We do not believe that the habits,
industry, and art of animals remain immutable. Has it
not been observed, times out of number, that old animals
are more cunning than young ones? The little bird which
builds its nest for the first time fashions it and places it
x PREFACE.
badly. By degrees it perfects its work, so that the nest
leaves nothing to be desired—the artist has attained the’
ideal. It is thus that, by the repeated exercise of the
memory, combined with reflection, the animal improves
itself. The bird of prey teaches its little ones to fly in
the air, to balance themselves there, to keep themselves
immovable, to slacken or quicken their flight, to calculate
distances, and to pounce down upon the victim. Look,
also, at the swallows, when about to depart. The youngest,
who have not yet undertaken the voyage, prepare them-
selves several days before by a multiplicity of evolutions.
After several repetitions, their parts being well known, and
the instruction perfect, the signal is given, the large army
flies away, well prepared by discipline for the journey.
The wolf, so greedy of flesh, does not succeed in its
carnivorous trade except after a long apprenticeship
The intellectual manifestations in animals are connected
with their organisation and their nervous system ; this is
what we shall show, in studying the principal families of
animals.
It is known that the animal kingdom may be divided
into five great orders :—
. Vertebrated.
Articulated or annelide.
Mollusks.
. Radiated or zoophytes.
La!
Mp wp
Protozoa.
PREFACE. x1
Protozoa, a name taken from the Greek, signifies first
animal, and presents the most simple organisation. Formed
of separate cells, we do not recognise in them any distinct
organ.
We can understand that, in such elementary beings, it
is difficult to find the least trace of intelligence.
The Radiated animals owe their name to the disposition
of their organs round a nervous centre, and are also called
zoophytes, because they have something of the form and
organisation of plants. Their nervous system is little de-
veloped; and it is difficult to note intelligence in these
beings, that have neither head nor heart, neither arms nor
_ legs ; in which animal life is scarcely separated from matter;
created only to eat. The sole organ they possess is a
stomach, an alimentary bag, sometimes divided into many
pockets or cavities, and having only one opening to receive
the food.
As we go higher in the series of beings, we see near this
stomach a brain, nerves, and delicate senses fitted for all
functions ; so that the more perfect beings do not only live
to eat, but also to feel, act, and exercise, more or less, their
nervous energy.
Among the Radiated we may consider the walk of the
sea-star as an act of intelligence. This animal disposes its
rays in such a manner that they suit the form of the object
on which it crawls, whether sand, large stones, or small
pebbles. The “star” climbs thus on the perpendicular
ae
xii PREFACE,
rocks, attaching itself firmly. This sea-star discerns per-
fectly, by the aid of touch, on what ground it finds
itself, and the obstacles to be surmounted, and acts in
the most intelligent manner according to circumstances. ?
Thus, in the class of Radiated animals, we meet with
the first elements of a nervous system, and the first mani-
festations of intelligence.
The JMZollusks are known by their soft body, without an
interior skeleton. ‘They possess a nervous system but little
developed, and usually composed of two parts; one over
the food-passage, the other beneath, and joined by a mem-
brane, which surrounds the gullet with a real nervous band. |
Some small glands are disposed round the principal organs,
and attached to the brain by threads of communication.
Some mollusks are gifted with organs of motion, of vision,
and of muscular contraction. Those which are covered
with a shell, like the oysters, are called testaceous mollusks.
If we take the most perfect type, the cephalopods—those
that have the brain protected by a little cartilage that may
be compared to a skull, and the most complete circulatory
apparatus, we recognise in them signs of intelligence.
Nor are the gasteropods wanting in similar faculties, as
may be seen in the snails, which find out every night the
fruits and plants suitable for food, although each morning
they go far away to make their siesta till the evening.
But it is in the class of zzsects, and especially of
hymenopterous insects, that we find proofs of intelligence.
PREFACE. Xili
So we shall not seriously begin our study till we come to
these little beings. Their body is symmetrical, composed,
in the greater number, of a succession of joints or rings, to
hold the intestines. _As their forms are best developed, so
their nervous system is equally energetic. They possess a
Arain, nervous chords round the gullet, and a series of
glands below the intestinal canal. The animal and in-
tellectual life ought to be the more elevated, as it
abounds in nervous and sensitive elements. ‘We note
in these animals,” says Réaumur, “as much as in any of
the others, proceedings which lead us to believe in their
having a certain degree of intelligence.” Other naturalists
have pretended that, in this respect, these insects surpass
all other animals. |
The forms of life in insects agree with the one great
plan of organisation, and though very different from animals
with a more complex system, do not differ from the general
type of organised beings. The forces which organise a
mite’s body are not smaller, according to Réaumur, than
those required by an elephant’s structure. We ought not
to have needed philosophy to teach us that great and small
are only words of comparison with respect to ourselves.
' The structure of microscopic insects is often more admirable
than that in animated masses of colossal size. The produc-
tion of insects seems then to require as many energies and
as high a mechanism as that of the larger animals. In
some respects insects have the superiority. In all the
X1V PREFACE,
large animals there are only two eyes. The common fly
has eight thousand ; and some have counted twenty-five
thousand in certain butterflies. ach of these organs pre-
sents, though in microscopic proportions, the greater part of
the divisions which are found in the composition of our eye.
Closely crowded together, these eyes make up for immova-
bility by quantity. Their mass is such, that in certain flies
they occupy nearly the whole of the head, and even equal
in weight one-fourth of the body. The shape and colour
of these eyes are not less various or less remarkable,
corresponding, undoubtedly, with modifications in the
sense of seeing. Insects which seek their food during the
night have eyes formed to receive the few rays of light
which meet them. In the carnivorous insects they are
larger. Certain aquatic species show sometimes several
pairs of eyes. Some are directed upwards, others down,
so that, while swimming on the water, the animal sees
the fish which threatens him, or the bird which is ready
to pounce upon him. Others have three little eyes,
arranged in the form of a triangle, on their heads, making
three powerful microscopes. We find these eyes in insects
inhabiting dimly-lighted places, or living in nests. They
must be able to perceive the smallest objects when exceed-
ingly near.
Insects possess a very delicate sense of smell. The
slightest odours strike them at the greatest distances.
Distant honey attracts bees. We see them going far to
PREFACE. XV
seek the flowers which inclose it. The fly smells from
afar the meat fitted to yield it food.
Each insect knows perfectly how to recognise what
agrees with it. ‘Those who eat jalap, or other drugs,
take the nutritive part, showing great care not to touch
that which is purging.
Cuvier and Duméril place the seat of smelling in the
small openings, in the shape of a button-hole, called s¢ig-
mata, by which the air is introduced into the breathing
tubes. There is here, says Mr. Pouchet, a manifest analogy
to the situation of the nose, which is placed, in the large
animals, at the entrance of the breathing apparatus. De
Blainville thought that this sense is in the antenne, little
movable horns found in front of the head. Indeed, these,
like the nostrils of the large animals, contain the first pair
of nerves which come from the brain. Some experiments
made by Dugés tend to demonstrate that it is really these
antennz which represent the organ of smelling. After
cutting them off butterflies and flies, these insects could no
longer go in search of their food.
We must acknowledge that the insect’s ear is not
anatomically known, but we ought not to doubt its exist-
ence, for many insects produce noises by means of which
they call and reply to each other.
It appears that touch is seated in the antenne. It
suffices to see an insect go out of his hole and explore its
environs with his antennz to be convinced of this fact. It
a ee ee ee eS ee
XVi ; PREFACE,
is by the help of these organs that insects seem to measure
bodies, try to lift them, and ascertain if they are too heavy,
too hot, or too cold.
We have insisted on the wonderful organisation of
insects in order to suggest their intellectual aptitudes.
Camper admitted that the more animals had the facial
angle acute, the lower was their intelligence. Wite has
rendered this principle obvious by figuring the heads of a
long series of the vertebrated, from man to the crane, in
which the extreme lengthening of the face corresponds with
its intellectual inferiority. Mr. Pouchet thinks that we
might execute a similar work for insects. At the be-
ginning of the list would be found, according to this
naturalist, the carnivorous beetles; at the bottom of the
scale the timid weevils, with slender, elongated mouths,
which would correspond perfectly with the cranes. After
many observations, we conclude that the most intelligent
insects are the hymenoptera, bees and ants; and think
that if any one compares the size of an ant’s head with its
body, Camper’s law would be confirmed. ‘The insect, the
ant, above all, is as well organised in the brain as the
greater part of animals. We shall, then, commence 9ur
study with the ants.
THE
INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
———
ENTS:
THEIR ACTIVITY, INDUSTRY, HABITS, LANGUAGE, AND
GOVERNMENT.
THE intelligence of the ants has been a subject of remark
for many ages. The old biographer Plutarch relates the
observations made on these insects by the Greek philo-
sopher Cleanthes, three hundred years before the Christian
era. The French philosopher and essayist Montaigne
describes their wonderful means of mutual communication
without the aid of speech.
Their organisation is, indeed, very remarkable. The
head is large; the jaw strong; the antennze long and
delicate ; the feet small, and furnished with claws, by
which they cling to objects ; the body light, without orna-
ment, or any means of protection. The ants, when hatched,
are completely naked; but they have good nurses, who
lavish on them the most assiduous care, bestow upon them
the most tender caresses, expose them to the sun in warm —
weather, and keep them in the cells when it becomes cold.
B
THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
The ants make up for the weakness of their bodies by the
swiftness of their feet, the fineness of their touch, and the
number of their eyes, which inform them of approaching
danger. They possess a powerful acid, which is ejected
against foes, and, in some species, will even blacken or
‘burn the trees on which these insects make their nests.
They have a government, too, which is a pure democracy,
and seems to realise the political
dreams of Plato, or those of Sir
Thomas More. Of course, in this
insect republic the property belongs
equally to all; even the babies are ©
claimed by the state. The whole
community forms a_ brotherhood,
and* no individual is distinguished
by aught save ardent love for the
public good.
The females are at all times sur-
rounded by a respectful court, are
even carried in triumph when fa-
tigued, and nourished with the
richest food. But they have no
Ants, meneed asiineless influence at all in the politics of
the state, and are quite content
with being the mothers of a powerful community. These
ladies are thus honoured while living; and Huber de-
clares that they are even buried with an extraordinary
display of ant magnificence. All governing power rests in
the mass of the society.
These facts prove, surely, intelligence in the ants.. We
think it needless to speak of the instincts or sagacity of the
female workers, which are wood-cutters, carpenters, and
purveyors ; or to reproduce the excellent description given
by Huber of the ants’ nests.
However, we will give some account of the ash-coloured
ants, which construct their nests differently from all other
species. Their work is, indeed, simple, compared with the
ingenuity of the red or meadow ants; but they, at least;
build like intelligent apprentices. Their hill is formed of
a dome of earth, closed entirely, except at the bottom,
where it is entered by a long and winding gallery, hidden
in the earth at some distance from the nest.
“If they wish to raise the house higher,” says Victor
Rendu, “they begin by covering the top with a layer of earth
drawn from the interior. In this stratum they then trace
the plan of another story. First, one of the ants digs little
furrows at unequal distances, but nearly of the same depth.
The solid ridges of earth between the minute excavations
serve as foundations for the inner walls, which form par-
titions for the various working chambers connected with
them. The excavated earth is used for constructing the
ceiling. When the cells have been formed in the trenches,
the architect has only to finish the roof. One worker begins
to take away the earth; she makes a furrow, which by
degrees becomes a lane, on each side of which is a bank.
This lane forms at last a sort of path, leading to the gal-
lery, at the bottom of the nest. When this is finished,
another ant begins another gallery, which is also near to
the apartments of the nest. The ants which thus trace
_the plan of a wall, apartment, gallery, or avenue, work each
one by itself; and sometimes it happens, in consequence,
that the different parts of the structure do not agree one
with the other. One arch, for instance, is closed up; or is
too low for the wall to which it should be joined ; some-
B 2
THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
times it is only half the height it should be. Such an
obstacle appears insurmountable for such a feeble insect.
The ash-coloured ants are not startled at this; one ant
passes, sees the error, destroys the road commenced, raises
the wall on which the path should rest, and makes a new
toad, which this time, constructed by an experienced work-
man, fulfils perfectly all the conditions. Is not this an act
of comparison, of judgment, and of intelligence ?”
‘Tt is when the ant commences such an enterprise,”
says Huber, ‘‘that we see she thinks while she works, and
realises her ideas in her work. When one of these insects
sees on the nest two little bits of grass, which cross one
another, and which would serve for the construction of a
cell, or when she sees several small sticks of angular shape,
she examines all these things, and then places a little earth
in each of the spaces and along the sides of the sticks with
great skill, without paying any attention to the work that
others may have sketched already. So much is she ruled
by the idea that she has conceived, and which she carries
out without distraction, that she goes, comes, and returns,
until her idea is understood by the others; then all work
together in common to carry out the plan which one has
commenced. ‘The first ant which conceives a plan sketches
it ; the others have only to continue the work commenced.
At the inspection of the first works, the insects judge which
they will undertake ; they know how to sketch, continue,
polish, or complete their work, according to circumstances.
Their teeth-like jaws serve for cutting tools, their antenne
for instruments of measurement; and their front feet are the
trowels with which they mix the mortar, apply, spread, and
fix it as solid cement.”
Dr. Ebrard, an author of keen observation on the habits
ANTS. 5
of the ant, was one day witness of the stratagem of a
black ant, which showed the most ingenious calculation on
the part of the insect. ‘One day,” says he, “I saw on the
summit of an ant-hill an entire sketch of a new story in
construction. It was a series of galleries, formed by two
parallel walls, half covered and intersected by numerous
and unfinished cells. The upper parts of the party walls
in these little rooms projected inwards about one-tenth of
an inch, leaving spaces between, about seven-tenths of an
inch wide, uncovered. ‘The black ants do not fetch bits of
sticks or grass, neither do they construct pillars. How did
they contrive, then, to finish covering in the cells before
the materials forming the arches fell by their own weight ?
The soil was wet, and the work in full force. It was a
constant running to and fro of ants, coming from their
subterraneous dwelling, and carrying particles of earth,
which they adapted to the old constructions. Concen-
trating my attention on the largest cell, I saw that only
one ant worked there; the work advanced, nevertheless.
In spite of a projection inside, between the upper part of
the walls there still remained a space of about half an
inch to cover in. This was the time to support the earth
of the roof by little pillars, beams, or the remnants of dried
leaves ; but the black ants never have recourse to any of
these means, it is not in their nature to employ them. The
solitary ant left her work for a moment, and went to a corn-
stalk a little distance:off. She ran up and down several
long and narrow leaves, then choosing the leaf nearest to
her, she fetched wet earth, which she fixed at the upper
extremity. She continued this operation until, under the
weight of earth, the leaf inclined gently towards the spot
It was necessary to cover. ‘This inclination took place,
6 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
unfortunately, near the top of the leaf, which seemed
inclined to break off. The ant, noticing this new incon-
venience, gnawed the leaf at the bottom, so that it fell
down full length over the unfinished cell. This was not
enough ; the position was not right. The worker arranged
it properly by putting earth between the base of the plant
and that of the leaf, until the leaf fell sufficiently low. The
desired end obtained, she used the leaf as-a buttress to
The Ant bending a corn-leaf
support the materials with which she intended to form the
arch.”
After these different observations, which give us in-
contestable proof of the intelligence of the ants, we will
ask you, candid reader, to allow us to tell you what we
have seen with our own eyes. It was in the latter end of
May, when the cockchafers, after having devoured the
leaves of the trees, began to die on the roads, and be-
came the prey of beetles and ants. I was walking with
one of my friends, a lover of natural history, when we
saw some ants actively occupied round a wing of a cock-
rf
ANTS. 7
chafer. What were they doing? You will hear. They
were pulling the wing towards a litile hole, which was
certainly too small to admit it. How could they manage
the matter, then? ‘They were obliged to think. The ants
are never embarrassed. It is very probable, however, that
they had never before encountered such an obstacle ; that
what they were obliged to do now was not a matter of
habit. They began to direct one of the extremities of
the wing towards the little gallery of their home. Three
of them, judging that the thing could not go alone, went
The Ants with the Cockchafer’s wing.
into the hole, pulling the wing underneath, while the others
pushed it from above. But, vain effort! the wing would not
enter. What could they do? Must they abandon sucha
great prize? No; the ants are as courageous as they are
intelligent. Without losing confidence in their activity and
their genius, they renounced their first idea. They placed
the wing against one of the partitions of the opening, and
went into the nest on the other side of the wing. They no
doubt thought what it would be necessary to do. They
then resolved, full of activity, to enlarge the gallery. Each
one descended in turn, bringing a particle of earth, which
she placed at the side of the opening. They worked so
8 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
well, that in less than half an hour the opening was half
as large again. It was nearly three-tenths of an inch in
diameter, and the wing was three parts pushed in. No
doubt in a little time the wing will be completely in;
when, lo! behold, another ant arrived, pulling, triumphantly
and alone, another insect. Her sisters saw her, went to
meet her, and dragged the insect towards the opening,
where the wing of the cockchafer was still waiting. ‘They
slipped along the wing as if it were an inclined plane. Two
or three descended, dragging the insect by the head. One
minute afterwards it had disappeared. The ants, happy and
proud of their success, returned to the wing of the cock-
chafer. ‘They tried.for some time to make it enter by force,
but it was impossible. Then an ant took it in his mouth,
carried it outside the hole, and his sisters began to work
again. They ran up and down the particles of earth they
had taken away from the partition to make the passage ~
larger. Some of them, in a great hurry, took the wing,
and pulled it again towards them. It nearly enters, when
something intervenes. The bottom of the opening was,
without doubt, not quite large enough. Some did all they
could to pull at the top; others push to the right, others to
the left, to make it enter more easily. It was, however,
necessary to abandon this proceeding, or take away the
obstacle. The ants took the wing out again, and removed,
with renewed ardour, all that appeared to be in their way.
A third time they tried to get the wing in. A new difficulty
arose—a storm, which swamped the earth. I do not know
if it were by chance or by calculation that the wing, which
was upside down, and by this time once more over the
opening, served as a shelter to the ants, who continued
their work. At last, at nearly six o’clock in the evening,
ANTS. 9
after working for three hours and a half with patience,
intelligence, and great effort, the hole was large enough,
and the wing went to the bottom of the nest. Will any
one, after this, say that these insects are accustomed to
such work, that they have executed it by instinct, without
reasoning, without calculation, without reflection, and
without intelligence? We must have less judgment than
the ants themselves to think of them in this way.
A last example will show us how much the develop-
ment of a sense can aid the intelligence. The ants, we
know, are guided by their touch and by their sense of
smell, which is situated principally in the antennz. Stop
the ants in their course, disperse them to rnght and left,
and they seem to be embarrassed, not knowing what to
do. They go back to the spot whence they started, sound-
ing the earth with their antennz ; then, when they have
examined the spot, they retrace their steps, recover and
pursue their road. Is it not by the fineness of their smell
or the delicacy of their touch that they find their direction
again? An ant one day saw on the road the leg of a gold-
beetle. She wished to drag it to the ant-hill, which was a
difficult task, as she was alone, all the others being, doubt- |
less, occupied at other business. The distance was not very
great, it is true; it was only half a yard that she had to go;
but the road was rough, difficult, covered with stones and
little lumps of earth. To tell you all the troubles this little
ant encountered would be impossible. The smallest pro-
jection was to her a mountain. Sometimes she went round
the stones in her way, at other times she was forced to-
creep over them. Nevertheless, she arrived almost at the
top of one of the little hillocks, when her prey slipped from
her, and rolled down again; and the poor ant, vexed but
see = a
——————
Io THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
not discouraged, was obliged to go after it. Then, like
a hound, she went here and there, seeming to sniff the air
and feel the earth. After a little time she regained her
prize. Just think of the patience and courage of these little
insects. It was not until after two hours’ work, and over
many obstacles, that she arrived at the ant-hiil, which was
in the grass near the road. ‘There our ant found help;
many of her companions ran to her aid, and in a short time,
The Ant carrying the Beetle’s leg,
in spite of the net-work of weeds, the leg of the gold-beetle
arrived entire at the ant-hill.
It is also by the contact of the antennz that the ant
knows a friend from an enemy. By particular signs, under-
stood by all the inhabitants of the same nest, they avoid
mistakes. This is known by experiment. We give an
example. Take away the ants from a hill, and put them
back again after a certain time into their nest. The first
feeling of these emigrants in returning to the cell is that
of uneasiness. ‘They wish to escape, but flight is not
ANTS. II
easy in such a noisy crowd, which goes, comes, and circu-
lates in all parts of the ant-hill. The first workers they
meet, seem to ask them for the watchword. ‘They then
touch each other’s antennz, and thus exchange signs. It
is well; they understand one another. The exiles belong
to that country ; their agitation ceases; they penetrate with
confidence into the native labyrinth, where they are received
as sisters who have been believed lost. ‘“‘ Now let us,” says
M. Rendu, “make the reverse experiment. Introduce
into the ant-hill some ants of the same species, but of
another nest, and other signs than those we have men-
tioned will be noted. The same preliminaries are observed,
but the question by means of the antenne, instead of
assuring the intruders, only increases their fright and their
hurry to flee. They do not belong to that nest. The hue
and cry commences ; the warning is given; they are furi-
ously chased. Woe be to them if they are caught! The
furious multitudes grasp the feet, the bodies, and the an-
tennz of the intruders, and drag them by force to the
interior of the cavern. When by chance some ants of
another tribe venture to make an unlawful incursion into
the nest of others, their lives are exposed to great danger.
An infuriated chase commences; they are assailed on all
sides by combatants, who are reinforced at each instant.
If the ants know how to defend themselves courageously
against strangers, in their family they show the most in-
telligent brotherly feeling. Who does not know that the
ants feed one another? The worker is often too much
occupied to fetch her own food. When she is hungry
she tells one of her companions, by striking rapidly with
her antenne. The purveyor instantly approaches, and
pours food into the mouth of the hungry ant. The worker
12 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
gives thanks, caresses the friend with her antenne, and
strokes her head with the front feet. Is not this intelli-
gence? or more, is it not family love ?”
It is well known that the red ant sometimes renounces
her subterranean dwelling-place to live in the trunks of old
trees. She there cuts her cells as the black ant would,
builds her nest several stories high, which are supported
sometimes by little columns, sometimes on thin partitions.
The red ant, then, remarks M. Rendu, cultivates two
distinct professions. She raises herself, if she pleases, to
the difficult art of sculpture, or descends to the modest
trade of a mason ; she does not think she demeans herself
by changing the chisel of the artist for the trowel of the
workman, when necessity enforces her to do so. This
necessity, in all beings, is the most lively stimulant of the
intelligence. Many species of ants in America have, under
the influence of that beautiful climate, acquired the art of
making honey. Our ants, deprived of this faculty, have
been obliged to have recourse to the grubs, which they
rear, guard, and store up to supply future wants. But if
we prove that the intelligence of animals and of men is
specially stimulated by want, we must acknowledge that
when the want is satisfied the intelligence often declines.
This has been the fate of conquering nations, who fell in -
consequence of too great refinement and abuse of power.
Certain tribes of conquering ants seem to have suffered in
the same way. The great red ants, named amazons, with
long legs, having a rude and soldier-like gait, attack the
black ants, carrying away the young female workers, and
treating them as slaves. ‘They are obliged to nurse the
larvee, and thus aid the-society of their captors, because
the amazons have no plebeian ants which would form the
ANTS. 13
working class, composed of laborious female workers, who.
nurse all the younger ants for the good of the republic, and
-do all the work of the little city. The origin of these red
ants has much exercised the sagacity of learned men.
“wlherenis, then,’ says Michelet, “a mystery that can
scarcely be explained now; but the general history of the
species, its migrations and its changes, if it could be written
from the commencement, would probably make all clear.
Who does not know how animals change, outwardly
and inwardly, in their forms and manners, by constant
removals? Some species make progress, others go back;
and it is thus, says a clever author, that I should explain
this slave-hunting habit of the red ants. They would not
live two days unless they added others to their number.
They then, rather than perish, steal the black ants, who
nurse the young of their captors, it is true, but, at the same
time, govern them. And this takes place not only in the
city, but outside also ; the black ants decide the expeditions, .
or adjourn them ; directing even the wars, while the red
ants, far from arranging the most simple matters in time of
peace, do not even seem to understand them. This isa
singular triumph of intelligence.”
SPIDERS.
THE HABITS AND INTELLIGENCE OF THE MYGALE.—THE
SILK-SPINNING SPIDER.—CUNNING OF THE SPIDER IN
CATCHING ITS PREY.
THE arachnida—named from the Greek arachne, a
spider—are distinguished particularly from the articulated*
animals ; nevertheless, the class is far from being a very
simple one. Great differences exist in the organisation of
the various orders of which it is composed. It is also
impossible to explain, in general terms, what the in-
telligence of the avachnida resembles. But it is known
that they possess a nervous system, variable in its develop-
ment in the different orders, but attaining, in general, a
high degree of centralisation. Some arachnida are de-
prived of the sense of sight ; but the greater part possess
eyes, which are always simple. It is known that the
extremities of the feet in the avrachnida are perfectly
formed for exercising the sense of touch; but nothing is
known respecting the other senses. In proof that the
arachnida, and especially the scorpions, are gifted with a
nervous system, we may note how the least prick on the
nerve ganglions causes immediate pain. The animal seems
unable to control itself, and appears to have lost all con-
sciousness of its movements. The results of the experi-
* A Latin word, signifying formed of joints.
SPIDERS. 15
ments made by M. Emile Blanchard is, that feeling in all
the avachnida depends exclusively on the cerebral ganglions.*
No trace of control over the movements is visible in
the scorpions when these ganglions are affected ; just the
contrary has been found in the other articulated animals in
which the nervous system has not attained the same degree
of centralisation. Amongst the arachnida, the aranetdes,
or spiders proper, may be mentioned as one of the most
natural divisions, and the best characterised of the entire
animal kingdom.
The species of this zoological group having become very
numerous, a necessity has been felt of establishing sub-
divisions among the avachnida, and giving more attention
to their characters, than had before been the case. ‘This
work was commenced by the celebrated entomologist
Latreille, but it was soon found necessary to arrange these
animals after a peculiar method, to make the specific de-
scriptions easy. Walcknaer—a name justly honoured by
entomologists, by the learned, and by geographers—found
in the arrangements of the spiders’ eyes, and in the nature
of their web, the means of establishing secondary divisions,
for the most part natural enough.
In the classification of Walcknaer, all the species of the
genus aveneat formed a large group, which he called ara-
newdes, since adopted in all zoological works. Amongst this
group of spiders, we will describe the mygale,{ whose
industry and intelligence are so remarkable.
The mygale not only possesses a well-organised brain,
* A ganglion is a small roundish mass of nervous matter.
t+ The Latin name for the spider.
{ Ancient name for a shrew-mouse ; now given to a genus of large
spiders, which often form their nests in the ground like mice.
_—s
|
|
16 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
but is also gifted with certain organs of sense really won-
derful, which admirably aid its industry and intelligence.
The eyes of the mygale are eight in numbet, forming
four pairs. ‘They are all placed on a round eminence. The
usefulness of the elevation on which the eyes are situated
is evident; for thus the spiders see in every direction.
These eyes are not all of the same size, or the same
shape. ‘There are two in the middle, two principal ones,
larger than the others, and nearly round, on the top of
the eye-stalk ; the others are placed on the side. In all
her arrangements, nature has one end—a marvellous adapta-
tion to manners, special habits, and the life proper to each
kind of animal. Thus, the silk of the silkworms is em-
ployed by them to one use, for a defence and protection
during the time they exist in the chrysalis form. But the
silk of the spider, says M. Emile Blanchard, has various
uses. This delicate spun substance may be employed to
carpet the creature’s dwelling ; to make its nests inacces-
sible ; to form the threads for trapping living prey; to serve
for cables or for ladders, down which the spiders descend
from great heights; to envelop the eggs, and thus defend
them from the attacks of animals.
In the south of Europe, and also in the south of
France, there are found spiders large in body, but very
poor in silk. But these use well their small stock ; not
being rich enough to construct dwellings of silk, these
mygales make tubes in the earth of diameters suited to
the size of their bodies, and as the walls would be rough,
they are adorned with hangings of the most beautiful silk,
so soft that the inhabitant feels no friction when rubbing
against such tapestry. This is not all; if the retreat re-
mained open at the surface, the mygale might easily be
SPIDERS, £7
seized by some hungry animal. This spider, therefore,
makes a solid door with the earth thrown out in hollowing
the tube. The door is cone-shape‘, so as not to be pushed
in by a pressure from without. On the outside it is un-
even, like the soil; but inside it is carefully covered with
a silky web. To a door you must necessarily have a
hinge, and a lock or a bolt are often wanted ; the mygale
knows how to provide for all these necessities. The hinge
is formed with such tough silk that it can offer a resistance
surpassing belief. A semicircle of little holes, very regularly
placed on the side opposite to the hinge, forms a kind of
bolt. See what intelligence this spider shows when any
one tries to open the door; she drives her claws into the
little holes, pulls down with all her might, and thus defends
her domicile. When the mygale wishes to go a-hunting,
she pushes up the door, and lets it fall down again; on
her return, she draws up the door with her claws, and
re-enters. This is very like what is now done in many
towns in the north of France, by the tenants of those
lodgings where the door opens on the footpath.
Many spiders use silk for making tubes, or lurking-
places, where they watch for their prey, or for fortresses
to secure themselves from foes.
M. Blanchard has called attention to a wonderful use
of silk by the water-spiders. These differ little in appear-
ance and general structure from their more common rela-
tions. They make their homes in streams, but live much
in the air. How is this managed? ‘The spider forms a
house of silk, which is a true diving-bell. This singular
- home is about the size of a thimble, is secured to some.
weed growing on the rivulet’s bank, and there the spider
lurks. This silk diving-bell has a white and glistening
Cc
18 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
appearance, like silver. The inhabitant is, therefore, called
argyronete, from two words, denoting “a spinner of silver.”
Every one notices, and few can help admiring, the mag-
nificent webs of the common garden-spider. ‘The art with
which they are formed is wonderful. The ancients, who
examined these works, understood all their beauty, and
invented the pretty fable of Arachne.* The web was so
perfect, that its author seemed capable of rivalling a god-
dess. The spider, when about to construct the web, places
a thread cross-ways between two branches, then arranges
other threads beneath, which look as regular as if traced
ona frame. From the horizontal thread the spider spins a
vertical thread in a downward direction, and the centre of
the work having been thus settled, the radiating lines are
formed. Other threads are then spun, and the concentric
circles constructed with a beautiful and wonderful regularity.
These threads are not all of the same kind. Those
which compose the large transverse cord, the vertical cord,
and the rays, are made of a silk which becomes dry the
moment it comes out of the spider’s body. On the con-
trary, those which form the circles are made of a silk which
is highly elastic and glutinous—most important properties,
because the threads thus completely adhere to the rays.
These same spiders produce silk destined to form cocoons,
in which to envelope the eggs. This silk is sometimes quite
different from that of which the web is composed. While
the web threads are white, this cocoon silk is of a fine golden
colour. ‘The three kinds of silk are secreted by three kinds
of glands, each secreting a particular silk. The cobwebs
* Arachne, proud of her spinning, challenged Minerva to a trial of
skill, and being defeated, killed herself. The pitying goddess turned
the body of poor Arachne into a spider.
SPIDERS. 19
of our garden-spiders give an incomplete idea of some of
the threads spun by other species of the same genus. In
the hottest countries of the world—in Madagascar, in the
Isle of Bourbon, in the Mauritius, in India, and in the
greater portion of Polynesia—there are spiders which.
construct webs of gigantic dimensions. They throw their
filmy lines across streams, fastening them to the trees on
each side. Travellers say that where these spiders are nume-
Web Lines spanning a Stream.
rous, their webs, thus thrown across rivers, produce a most
striking effect in the landscape. Explorers of Madagascar,
or the Isle of Bourbon, have observed a species which con-
structs its webs somewhat like those of the garden-spider ;
but there was one important peculiarity: there was in the
centre a thick silvery cord or thread, twisted so as to present
a series of zigzag folds. The fact having been stated, nobody
could doubt the peculiar use of this thick thread. A few
years later a young naturalist, Dr. Vinson, attached to
the Madagascar mission, made some interesting observations
CZ
a pe
Sn eee
20 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
on these webs. He often passed whole hours in observing
the spider, whose mode of construction was so singular,
asking himself what could be the use of this large cord, a
real cable compared to the other threads? Each day he
repaired to some of these webs to study them. One day
some flies came and threw themselves on the threads;
quickly the spider flung itself on its prey, throwing out some
of the light threads, and enveloping the flies. The cable
did not move. The observer broke it three or four different
times ; the spider, each time, made a new cable. One day
a large grasshopper precipitated himself into the middle of
this net. The light threads would not have been strong
enough to keep sucha victim. Mark, now, a proof of in-
telligence. As soon as possible the spider threw himself on
his great cable, and rolled round the grasshopper with the
greatest rapidity. That no doubt might remain, our observer
returned on the following days to the same place, being
determined to make experiments. He took care to furnish
himself with large insects; and, throwing them into the
spider’s web, the same manceuvre was constantly repeated.
The use of the thread was now discovered: to hold strong
insects.
Many have thought, for a long time, of utilising the web
of the spider; but it is difficult to obtain a sufficient quantity.
The ordinary thread is ninety times thinner than that of
the silkworm, and, therefore, it is necessary to have 1,800
spiders’ threads, according to Reaumur, to make a service-
able tissue. This circumstance prevents the industrial use,
to any considerable value, of the silk of spiders. However,
M. Lebon, president of the parliament of Montpellier, in
1709, made some stockings and gloves, of a pretty grey
colour, for Louis XIV., from this silk. M. d’Orbigny made,
SPIDERS. 21
from the threads of a species of American spider, a pair
of drawers, which lasted a long time. Travellers tell us
that, in equatorial countries, spiders’ webs are seen which
have so much strength that they catch the humming-birds.
It is even said that men break the webs with difficulty.
But let us return to the intelligence of these crea-
tures. It is in the means they employ for seizing their i)
prey that spiders display all their resources. The wall- |
spider lies down in a crack, and there, after watching a
fly, springs upon it with one bound, rarely missing, so
quick and sure is the jump. Another species watches on a |
22 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
tree for caterpillars near the opening of the nest, and as
soon as one comes near, the spider seizes it, sucks it quickly,
and then throws the body away. But that which denotes
spider intelligence most, is the making of their webs.
Certain spiders set up a circular network, with loose meshes
for small flies ; others form stronger tissues, with more solid
woofs, to hold larger flies. In the first network, the threads
of the woof are stronger, and twisted, radiating from the
centre to the circumference; other threads, more slender,
are placed circularly. By this geometrical disposition, the
spider, keeping to the centre, will feel, better thaa anywhere
else, the least movement at the circumference. This, ac-
cording to Virey, is what Schmid, a learned German
mathematician, proved, who published a work in which he
shows that spiders, like bees, display the most transcendant
geometry. But what is most wonderful is the lodging in
which the spider keeps himself on the look-out. It is a
real circular tunnel, with a double outlet, and a double use.
The entrance is horizontal, the outlet is perpendicular. It
is from the former that the hunter throws himself on his
prey ; the other performs the office of a secret cell.
The spider takes the greatest care never to leave at the
entrance the corpses of which he has sucked the blood;
this charnel-house would frighten its hving food. Each time
a fly has been immolated, it is dragged into a canal, and
thrown into the lower opening. When we look at the floor
of the den, we are surprised at the number of the spider’s
victims. Sometimes this hidden opening serves for a way
of escape when danger is near; but this is a rare case. Its
special use, its only destination, says M. Pouchet, who
claims the honour of this discovery, is to receive the wreck
of the spider’s repast.
BEES.
ESPECIALLY THE MASON-BEE.
THE custom of living in society is, in animals, a sign of
intelligence. We have already observed this in the ants.
The bees will furnish us with other proofs. These little
creatures form, like man, regular and permanent societies,
construct cities, establish divers orders in the state, emigrate,
and even found colonies.
We are surprised when we see little animals execute
such beautiful works, because we forget
that the little or the large are only
relative to man, who makes himself
the centre of all the worlds, and the
measure of all beings. .
Nature surprises us, says Swam-
merdam, by the greatness of the works
she has produced, displaying, so to
speak, all her power in them. But she is not less
incomprehensible when, in the smallest insect, she con-
centrates her powers in one point. We never more admire
animals called perfect (those man thinks most like to him-
self) than when we dissect their smallest parts. They show
that in a living mass all is organised, all is living ; and in
this sense the small is the great. Minute beauty is every-
where ; it penetrates the whole of nature, and becomes an
object worthy of philosophy.
After the works of Swammerdam and Moraldi, Reaumur
The Honey-Bee.
24 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
apologises for writing on! bees. With much more reason
ought we to abstain from writing, after the magnificent
discoveries of Schirach, Huber, John Hunter, and Dzier-
zon. We shall say nothing of the architectural wonders
of these animals, so often described, nor of the cares of
the workers for the little larvae. What we shall inquire
for is the intellectual manifestations in these insects. The
bees come nearest the ants by their intelligence. Their
government of a hive has long excited admiration. The
results obtained by the bees, with instruments of extreme
simplicity, astonish by their perfection. Is this skill at
every instant to be called only instinct—this singular
distribution of work,.this admirable policy, which submits
all to Law, and provides for a crowd of eventualities which
could not have been foreseen ?
Bees show feelings: of uneasiness, hatred, and anger,
direct their actions according to circumstances, know how
to use stratagems against enemies stronger than themselves,
and adjust their means of defence to the attack. Amongst
the honey producers some families only build new-nests
when they cannot find any old ones ; and if one is found,
itis putin order. The Xylocopes* do not hollow out holes
in wood till they have explored the old cavities near. They
often live in the dwellings. of former generations of insects
of their kind, thus dispensing with all useless labour. We
have other proofs of intelligence still more conclusive. We
know that the honey-combs do not touch each other, a
space of nearly half an inch separating them ; these are
the streets of the city, where two bees can pass at a
time. Besides these large roads of communication other
* Wood-borers.
BEES. mone?
openings, nearly round, like little. doors always open, pass
through the honey-combs, to avoid the necessity of a long
circuit in getting from one comb to another, or to different
parts of the hive. These passages, like the combs, are not
all made of the same shape, the bees accommodating them-
selves to places and circumstances. We find hives in which
the combs all run parallel with each other, which is generally
the case ; in others, the combs, which occupy a part of the
hive from top to bottom, are parallel to each other, but
those which fill the rest of the habitation are placed
obliquely to the first ones. The bees, in beginning a
second comb, often attach themselves to the opposite end
to which the first comb was fixed. This second comb
ought to be parallel with the first, and there should only
be a certain distance between them. The insects by chance
may have mistaken their measures, and the second comb is
too far away from the first. The bees, in order to fill part
of the vacancy, proceed with their bad arrangement, working
obliquely, and giving the comb an inclination, which brings
it nearer to the other. Is this mere blind mechanism? It
must indeed be greater stupidity than that of the brutes
not to see in these actions calculation, comparison, reflec-
tion, and intelligence.
Take another mark of intelligence, not less striking. In
a hive a large number of cells are reserved only for pro-
visions. The bees make these deeper than the others, they
being sometimes eight-tenths of an inch in depth, with a
diameter which never exceeds one-fifth of an inch. When
the honey harvest is so abundant that the vessels are not
sufficient to hold it, the workers abandon their usual
mode. They lengthen the old cells, or give to the new
larger dimensions than the ordinary ones. Their resources
26 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
in the art of building are always equal to their wants. No
one can reasonably say that these insects do what they have
always done without reflection, without mp and
without intelligence.
Will men still deny that it is ee which guides
the working bee in deciding whether the cells which con-
tain the larve are well provided with food? The worker
visits first a certain number of cells at a time, not stopping
till it has finished this general review. After having seen
and examined all, the bee retraces its steps, enters one
of the cells which does not seem sufficiently provided, and
empties there the food which the larve require.
Many more intelligent acts could be mentioned. It is
known that the mother bee starts with the first swarm
thrown out by a hive in spring. While the new colony
is busying itself preparing lodgings, building, plundering,
working for the increase of the population, and caring for
the race of its chief; the bees who stayed in the old hive
form a strong guard round the royal cells, where there are
some females in the larva state, some nymphs, and even
some perfect though imprisoned insects. Of these not one
will be kept captive beyond the time when she ought to
enjoy her liberty; neither will any of them be liberated
before the time. They will all go out of the cells succes-
sively, at some days’ interval, according to their age. The
law on this point is inflexible. The more efforts they
make to liberate themselves, the more their guardians
will watch them, rebuilding their cover as soon as they
destroy it, and shutting up the opening each time they have
taken their meal from the end of their nurse’s trunk. Bees
have, therefore, the power which arises from intelligence
and will.
BEES. 27
Remember that at the moment of the swarming, the
royal cells contain a number of females in the state of larvee
ornyinphs. A great many only wait their time of deliver-
ance to seize, in their turn, upon the government. One
queen alone must reign; the first female who comes out
of her prison destroys the others in their royal cells. The
workers have recognised her quality as mother, and hinder
her not; she therefore attacks all her rivals, one after
another, and kills them with her dart. Huber was once
a witness of this execution, in which the mother bee showed
great intelligence. ‘The queen, he says, fell upon the first
royal cell which she saw, with eagerness. By dint of
labour she succeeded in opening the end. ‘ We saw her
with her jaws tear the silk of the cocoon in which the royal
larva was enclosed,” but her efforts did not succeed as she
wished, for she abandoned this end of the large cell, and
went to work at the opposite extremity, where she succeeded
in making a large opening. When she had enlarged it
enough, she turned round and tried to get her body in.
She made different movements in all directions, till at last
she succeeded in giving her rival a sting. ‘Then she re-
moved from this cell, and the workers, who up to this time
had been simple spectators of her work, enlarged the gap
which she had made, and drew out the corpse of a queen,
hardly free from her nymph’s covering. During this time,
the queen fell upon a large cell, and again made an opening,
but she did not try to get in the extremity of her body here.
This second cell did not contain, like the first, a fully de-
veloped queen, it only enclosed a nymph queen.
_M. Maurice Girard, who has written an_ excellent
book on the metamorphoses of insects, mentions several
examples of the strong memory of bees. They recognise
; =
=
*
s
:
28 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
their hive, he says, in the midst of a crowd of others ;
if a field is covered with flowers which they lke, they return
the year after to the same place, even though the culture is
quite changed.
A wandering swarm had fixed itself on the beams of a
roof, and had there begun to build their golden combs,
Death’s Head Moth attacking the Hives.
when the householder put them into a hive. The place first
chosen had pleased the bees, for during eight years all the
swarms from this hive sent some explorers to the spot.
The memory of the locality was not only preserved in the
little nation, but transmitted to several generations of de-
scendants.
Take one more instance of intelligence in bees. In
BEES. 29
1806, Huber, the elder, stated that the death’s-head moths
abounded, and that, greedy of honey, they entered the hives
and broke all the combs with their great bodies, many times
larger than that of a bee. The bees were frightened, and
did not know what to do; they had never before found
such an enemy. After much reflection, they thought of
employing the following device, which succeeded :—A thick
bulwark of wax was raised at the entrance of all the hives
in the neighbourhood, these small doors only allowing one
bee to pass at a time. The greedy moths, deprived of
offensive weapons, flew flutteringly against the obstacle,
but could not enter. After two or three years the enemy
returned in greater force, and immediately the bees shut
the openings of the hives as before.
These feeble insects have solved a problem which may
well excite the envy of man. We do not know by what
physiological reasoning the animals were able to understand
the importance of nourishment in the development of phy-
sical force, and even in the making beings fruitful which
were not so before. This transformation, which our greatest
doctors and our deepest observers, have not been able to
accomplish, have been practised since the most ancient times
by these insects. When the bees have lost their queen,
and wish to obtain another, they choose some workers in the
state of worms, which they nourish with a thicker, sweeter,
and more stimulating food, called ‘royal jelly.” The bees
supply such a large quantity of this, that at the time when
no “pap” is found in the cells of the males, or workers, the
royal cells contain a great quantity of the jelly ; so greatly
does the bringing up of the mother bees differ from the
ordinary process. Bees understand very well that for a larger
amount of nourishment a greater quantity of air is required,
ee
30 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
otherwise digestion would be bad. It is not what one ~
eats, but what one digests, which nourishes. They know
this, and take care to enlarge the cells of the larve in
proportion to the nourishment given. The bees do more;
they ornament the cells with a new style of architecture,
and enlarge them as the larva grows. When it is on
the point of changing into a nymph, and the nourish-
ment is suspended, the workers reduce the cell by shutting
it up with a lid; but this contraction of the dwelling is
made gradually, little by little, till the metamorphosis is
complete.
It is to this special jelly, as well as to the size of the
royal cells, that the larvee of the mother bees owe their
peculiarities. When the bee has lost a wife, it can replace
her at will, if the hive contain some larve at least three
days old; later, the transformation could not take place.
But at this time a working larva could easily become, by
means of air and food, a queen. Such is the influence of
the royal-jelly, that if some particles of this food fall by
chance into the little cells which surround the royal ones,
the working larvee receive a portion of fecundity ; but they
never lay any eggs, except those of drones.
The chalicodome (one who builds with gravel), or mason-
bee, shows in the construction of its nest many proofs of
intelligence. The works of this insect, says M. Emile
Blanchard, commence in the month of May—that is to say,
a short time after its birth. A female explores a wall, and
chooses a place. Having fixed on this point, she goes to look
for materials, and if you follow her patiently, you will see her
stop on some ground covered with gravel. The insect seizes
small pieces of gravel with her jaws, pours out a little saliva,
joins with it some grains of earth, and thus glues earth and
BEES, 31
gravel together, to form the mortar that she will employ in
building. The little mass being soon hardened, she flies away
with her burden, and returning to the wall; applies the first
layer of cement. The same operation is repeated several
times ; the mass of mortar is soon sufficient for the work, and
in the space of a day the first cell is constructed. But this
cell remains open to a certain extent, the insect entering
it several times to smooth the walls. At this time
another care begins to occupy her attention—that of sup-
plying this habitation with provisions. The mason-bee.
gathers honey and pollen from the flowers ; they are mixed,
and the result is the sweet paste which constitutes the
nourishment of all the larve of the aphides. The pro-
visions being complete, and filling nearly the whole of the
cell, an egg is laid. Our bee blocks up this dwelling, and
directly begins to build another quite close to it, and then a
third, and so on, till there are eight, ten, twelve, or even
more. These cells are placed irregularly, and are not of
the same number in all the nests. The cells are built,
provisioned, and hermetically sealed; but the work is not
yet finishéd. The mason insect forms a general covering,
a sort of roof, for which she collects larger pieces of gravel
than those used in the composition of the mortar destined
for the fabrication of the cells. The exterior wall of the
nest has an enormous thickness, and a prodigious hardness,
which is not the least interesting fact in the construction.
The larvz will live in abundance, and be as much as pos-
sible sheltered from danger. At the time of their birth
they imprison themselves in a case of varnished tissue.
Their transformation into nymphs is effected, and the adult
insects-are formed. How will the new masons get out of
their dwellings? Will they succeed in piercing this cement,
32 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
harder than stone, and which the strokes of a hammer do
not always break? It was once thought so, and so first
hinted by Reaumur ; but this was an error. When the lid of
the nest was constructed; a cut was made in the lower edge,
near a cell whose occupant is destined to go out first. It is
a kind of door, only covered by some powdered earth. The
instinct of the architect puzzles our reason ; and does this
architect only obey a blind instinct? A worker so attentive
to choose both place and materials, appearing at each instant
to examine the state of its work—does this bee act like a
wound-up machine, performing its uniform movement?
Judge by several facts in the history of our mason. Possess-
ing exclusively instinctive faculties, she ought always to
accomplish the same work—begin and finish it in the same
manner. ‘This does not take place. Cells more or less
dilapidated—containing in the interior abandoned shells,
or skins of nymphs, having the partitions of the cells more
or less broken—remain attached to the walls. The mason-
bees, in their explorations, recognise these old nests, and do
not fail to take possession of them. ‘They thus understand
how they can avoid much fatigue. This feeling cannot be
attributed to instinct. This is not all, however. When a
mason-bee thus takes possession of what we should call the
ruins of a house, if we were speaking of a habitation built by
men’s hands, she is obliged to work in a very different way
from that of the insect which builds a new nest. She must
proceed to clean the interior, taking away the ruins of the
shells, the skins of the larvae and nymphs, with all the dirt.
She must then repair the breaches and stop up the open-
ings; in a word, know the situation and attend to the
details of the whole work. Can it be thought that no
reasoning is required in such a labour and plan. But there
BEES 33
is something more striking.. It sometimes happens that an
idle mason-bee thinks of stealing from others; she pene-
trates the nest which is being built by another individual,
and finding the place suits her, strives to maintain herself
there by force. Reaumur has well traced this peculiarity
of the wall-bee. “These observations,” he says, “teach us
that the spirit of injustice is not so peculiar to man as it is
thought; it is found in the smallest animals. Amongst
insects, as amongst men, the goods of others will be usurped,
and their work appropriated. While a fly had gone to load
itself with materials to add what was wanting to her cell,
M. du Hamel saw, more than once, another fly enter with-
out ceremony into the cell, turn itself in all directions, visit
it from all sides, work to refit it as if it belonged to her.
The proof that she did it with a bad intention was that
when the true mistress arrived laden with materials, the
place was not yielded to her by the other ; she was obliged
to have recourse to violent means in order to preserve
the possession of her goods; she was forced to join in
combat with the usurper, who was ready to defend the
robbery.”
With a little patience anybody can easily test the facts
which we have just mentioned about the mason-bees, and
procure for himself a very instructive amusement. Nothing
is mote worthy the philosopher’s meditations than these
manifestations of instinct and intelligence in small animals,
and of actions on their part which among men would be
judged, the one praiseworthy, the others contemptible.
Individuals of the same kind among the industrious bees
do not all seem to have the same propensities. Some are
courageous, working honestly ; some are idle, and prefer
not to work, appropriating by trick or force the property
D
34 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
of others. Will there long remain people ignorant enough
to see in these animals only machines, and to understand
nothing of the grandeur of creation? The reflections
made by M. Emile Blanchard, one of the most distin-
guished naturalists of our time, are a noble witness in
favour of the intelligence of insects.
HUMBLE-BEES.
CO-OPERATION.—INDUSTRY AND INTELLIGENCE DEVELOPED
IN DIRECT PROPORTION TO THE NUMBER OF CITIZENS.
THERE they are, those great creatures—those fat lubbers,
those snobs full of themselves, that are more noisy than
industrious. Do you see them, with their eyes jutting out
from their heads, their little wings giving them such airs
of importance? It is certainly not by licking the walls that
they have grown to such a good condition. Happy mortals!
nature has gifted them with good humour: not ambitious
and not wicked, they digest wonderfully. They work and
feed while singing in the midst of the flowers in which they
rejoice, giving themselves up to pleasures. ‘The drones are
real co-operatives ; they realise easy work. ‘Their societies
are much less numerous than those of the bees. ‘Their
sociability, less developed, shows a less advanced energy,
less industry, and less intelligence. The architecture of
their nests is less remarkable than that of the bees and
wasps. Nevertheless, they are capable of a certain intelli-
gence. The day is come for them to choose their nests ; do
not think that the choice is made lightly or without reflec-
tion. From the first day of spring, we are told by M.
Rendu, the females are seen flying here and there, in the
meadows and on the hillocks—visiting all the holes of the
field-mouse, the shrew-mouse, and retreats of the large-
headed mouse. They enter each in turn, inspecting all, and,
D 2
36 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
finally deciding in favour of those which seem to answer
their purpose best, make their abode there.
The female of the humble-bees takes special care to
lay her eggs in cells of certain exact dimensions, carefully
tested by repeated insertions of her body into the prepared
receptacle.
The larve of the same cell being shut in, they live
together, dine at the same table, under the same tent, feed
together on the food prepared at the bottom of their cradle,
and there grow. This cell does not exceed the size of a
pea when the female lays her eggs there; but as the eggs
enlarge, the interior becomes too narrow, and cannot suffice
for the progressive growth of the young insects. The cell
splits lengthways, and it is then that the mother displays
all her intelligence. She takes pieces of wax and applies
them to the sides of the opening. She goes, comes, and
returns again and again with stores of wax, and repeats her
work of calking, till there is no trace of a rupture left.
After three or four operations of a like nature, the cell is
completely shut in, being enlarged by the part added.
Each time the cell bursts, by the interior pressure of the
larvee, the prison is again, in hke manner, enlarged to the
required dimensions, being at last about half an inch in
length.
M. Emile Blanchard gives another proof of the intelli-
gence of the humble-bees, when they wish to draw up the
honey from flowers having a very deep corolla. They
cannot often, on account of their size, reach down to the
bottom with their trunks. This difficulty does not discon-
cert them: with their mandibles they cut the corolla in the
lower part, and pass their trunk through the opening.
The growth of the population among these bees has this
-HUMBLE-BEES, ag
peculiarity—that the industry and intelligence of the city
are developed according to the number of the inhabitants,
and decline where the societies are reduced to a few in-
dividuals. It is thus that the smallest communities do not
cover their moss roof with wax, and do not lengthen their
honey-pots, confining themselves to mere necessities. It is
not the same in the more numerous societies. Frequent
contact with others excites the intelligence ; a sort of emu-
lation carries more will into the work, for the common
protection and care of the little ones. |
Among the intelligent hymenopterous insects, we may
mention the C/orion, a solitary and digging bee. Often,
says M. Emile Blanchard, have I witnessed the attack on
a cockroach by a chlorion, and the intelligence displayed
by the latter in bringing to its nest and getting into its
narrow hole so large a body. When attacked, the cock-
roach knows its enemy, and is paralysed by fear. Then
the chlorion flings himself on the prey, seizes it with the
mandibles between the head and corslet, and pierces the
abdomen with its sting. The bee then retires awhile, till
the victim’s struggles are over. The chlorion then drags
the body to the nest, often with great labour, for the
burden is really heavy. He now busies himself about
getting the prey into the cell; but the opening is far too
narrow to admit the feet and wings of the cockroach. The
chlorion understands the situation; the difficulty does not
surprise him. He cuts the feet and wings off, and then
tries to push the body into the hole; but it is still too
large. The bee feels that he must do something better ;
it goes backwards into the hole, seizes the victim with his
mandibles, and tugs with all his strength. The skin of the
cockroach having a certain flexibility, the body at last dis-
r
39 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
appears, by passing into the hole, into which we should
never have thought it could have been forced. Do such
acts on the part of the chlorion only proceed from instinct ?
Who can think so, when observing these manceuvres, so
intelligent and varying according to circumstances?
PUPAS. AND BUGS,
MOTHERLY LOVE AND INTELLIGENCE OF FLEAS.—SOLDIER
FLEAS.—RIDING FLEAS.
WE will finish this study on the intelligence of insects by
stating some curious facts observed in animals which, until
now, have been looked upon only as torments to man.
The fleas not only possess the power of making sur-
prising jumps, but display an almost incredible muscular
force. Lémery saw a flea of middle size chained to a little
silver cannon, which the insect drew after it. The cannon
was above an inch long, and as thick as a small pipe,
weighing twenty-four times more than the flea. The gun
was supported on two wheels, and exactly like a cannon
used in war. It was sometimes fired off, but the brave flea
was not at all frightened by the artillery roar. His mis
tress, adds Lémery, kept the insect in a little velvet box,
which she carried in her pocket. She fed the creature
easily, by putting it every day, for a little time, on her arm,
scarcely feeling the bite! Winter killed this martial flea.
Mouffet says that an Englishman made a gold chain as
long as his finger, with a padlock and a key; a flea being
attached to this chain, drew it daily with ease. The whole
mass weighed less than a grain.
Hoock relates that another English stdin made an
ivory Carriage, with six horses; a coachman sat on the box,
with a dog between his legs; there, too, rode a postillion,
i
40 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
four gentlemen were in the carriage, and two footmen
behind. The whole equipage was drawn by one flea.
What a shaft horse! Are these the only works which
the fleas can aceomplish? No; these little beings are
so intelligent, that they can be trained to all sorts of
exercises. :
The Baron Walckenaer, who died in 1452, relates
marvels done by clever fleas, which were shown at Paris,
Trained Fleas at work and at drill.
in the Exchange. “I*saw them,” says he, “with my
entomologist eyes, through several magnifying glasses. Four
fleas were doing the exercise, standing on their hind feet,
and armed with a pike, which was a little spar of very
fine wood. ‘Two fleas were attached to a gold travelling
carriage of four wheels, with a postillion. A third flea was
seated on the coachman’s box, a little piece of wood
representing the whip. Two other fleas drew a cannon.
All these clever drillings and others were executed on
polished glass. The flea-horses were attached to a gold
FLEAS AND BUGS. _ 41
chain by their hind thighs. The owners told me,” added
Walckenaer, “that they never took off this chain. The
fleas lived thus for two years and a half. They were fed
by putting them on a man’s arm, which they sucked. When
they would not draw the cannon or the travelling carriage,
the man took a lighted piece of wood, which he held
above them; they then moved, and re-commenced their
exercises.”
Thé fleas had, in 1425, shown their rare talent in Paris,
and in the provincial towns everywhere they puzzled
human pride. But of what use is intelligence without a
heart? It has been said that the smallest animal, the
least useful in appearance, would astonish us by the
patience, the courage, the spirit, and let us add sentiment
and maternal tenderness.
When the fleas have laid their eggs in the dust, in the
slits of the floor, on cushions where animals sleep, or in the
clothes of young children, then the white larvze, without
feet, and very shaky, come out, twisting themselves like little
eels. The mother flea pours into their mouths the blood
with which she has filled herself, and one sees under their
transparent skin the colouring of the digestive tube. Thus
the drop of blood she takes from us forms the nourish-
ment of her children.
Do not accuse this poor and tender mother any more
of wickedness. She, perhaps, bites you ; it is because she
is forced to do so. Nature has imposed this law on her,
she cannot avoid it; she acts with all the consideration,
all the management of a gastronomic insect, 1f you will, but
she is certainly neither wicked nora glutton. Once repulsed,
the flea hastens to get away; indeed, one might almost
Imagine she had scruples of conscience. She leaves the
42 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
scene of her misdeeds, but still goes a lively, jumping
insect, tickling all the neighbourhood with a soft and light
foot, as if to benumb and alleviate the small pain of her
bite. Why does Linnzeus call the flea zrritating? It is the
bug, the plague of night, which he ought to have so named.
Sagacious Bug dropping from
the ceiling.
That the flea teazes by its bite
those among us in whom the
nervous system is not duly
balanced by the sanguéne tem-
perament, is true, but she does
not irritate any one. This may,
however, be a matter of taste.
The flea does not possess the
acrid fluid, or poison, of the
bug. This creature does not
content itself with piercing the
skin and extracting the blood,
but introduces a poison, se-
creted by herself. We have
always defied mean people, and
the enemies of light; now, the
bug and man are the most
direct and most cruel enemies
of man. Their wickedness is
all the more dangerous, as it is
aided by an intelhgence more
developed.
Valmont de Bomare tells us that a curious person wishing
to discover how the bug was aware of the presence of man,
made the following experiment :—He laid down in a hanging
bed without a top, in the middle of a room, without one
piece of furniture. He then put on the floor a bug, which,
FLEAS AND BUGS. 43
led doubtless by the smell, hesitated some time on the
means it should take to arrive at the bed. At length it
took the way to the wall, ascended, gained the ceiling,
got over the bed, and fell from the ceiling on to the nose
of the observer. Is not this again like an act of in-
telligence ?
REPTILES AND BATRACHIANS*
THE SNAKE A FRIEND OF WOMEN.—LIZARD A FRIEND OF
MEN.—THE TORTOISE AND VENUS.—SALAMANDER AND
FRANCIS I.—BIOGRAPHY OF A HUNTING TOAD, WHICH
LIVED THIRTY-SIX YEARS.
MytTHOoLocy, says Virey, in his picturesque style, formerly
armed the god of the day, Apollo, with his arrows to
pierce the enormous Python,f which came out of. the
mud after the deluge. Formerly Hercules strangled the
monster Achelous,t in spite of his crooked windings ;
furious dragons guarded the garden of the Hesperides
and the Golden Fleece. Men saw Perseus shaking the
head of Medusa, and sowing serpents from her hair on
the burning plains of Africa; the horrid Gorgons, the
dreadful Furies Discord and Envy, armed with adders,
frightened mankind, and petrified them with horror.
The friends of nature, adds the poet and naturalist,
are to-day conquerors of so many monsters. New Cad-
muses, borrowing the wand of Mercury, advance without
fear into the midst of these hostile races, survey them, class
them, and, covered with the shield of science, protect
themselves from hurt. They see among reptiles creatures
wonderful in their forms, singular in the different colours
* Greek name for frogs. | + The serpent, a symbol of moral evil.
f{ The god of the river Achelous.
REPTILES AND BATRACHIANS. 45
which decorate them, remarkable for the strange meta-
morphoses of some species, and the singular habits of
nearly all.
Begging Virey’s pardon, we have not any sympathy for
reptiles, no confidence in them. We do not like these
animals, with their icy look and clammy skin, which makes
you shiver when you touch them. We dislike these beings
without a country, which know not whether they come from
France or England; which sometimes live in the ocean,
sometimes inhabit the continents; which are not fishes
or quadrupeds, but pass for either, according to their
interests, and cry in turn, “ Long live the king ;” “Long
live the people.” It has been said that the empire of the
world belongs to the cold people ; we do not believe this
at all. We know that certain reptiles reach, lke eagles,
high positions, but not from strength of heart, courage, or
intelligence ; rather by meanness, and because they know
how to endure injuries, to support blows, and then to run
away quietly, without a spark of spirit. Their mediocrity
throws no one into the shade; they are always skulking in
the corners of waiting-rooms, till the door is open for them
to crawl after prime ministers and kings. We dislike the
reptile. He has neither hair nor feather. He deceived
our first mother; and did he not cause us to lose Para-
dise? Can we understand how the most hideous being,
and one having the least feeling of maternity, could have
seduced the mother of mankind? ‘That a superior verte-
brate, an intelligent being, full of good nature and enthu-
siasm, should exercise such an influence, 1s not surprising.
But a reptile! Would that it had been a bird! Among
the most abject animals, the least intelligent are those
which take the least care of their offspricg. The majority
rt hte me —— pa ag
46 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
of the female reptiles do not hatch their eggs ; and some do
not know their little ones. Directly they are born, the
young fly from the parents as if they were enemies of
their race. As to the males, real Saturns of the animal
kingdom,* they often devour their young. The crocodile
shows the extreme of this insensibility. It is the most
abject, the most ferocious, and the most vile of all reptiles.
The dignity of animals, says Franklin, is in proportion to
their care for the young. ‘Those in whom this sentiment is
the highest are the first in the series of living beings.
Those in whom it is low come in the second order, and
are the last of all in intelligence. So it is proved once
more that nature proportions the degrees of intelligence to
the strength of the affections. As reptiles have a less
developed heart, cold blood, and senses in general imper-
fect, a great sensibility must not be expected in them.
These animals are generally timid and fearful, hiding
themselves, and living alone. Even education does not
awaken much intelligence in them. Certain jugglers have
been able to make some species of serpents stand, by
balancing themselves on their tails, while following the
slow or quick movements of music. The batrachian
reptiles are in a peculiar condition as concerns their
organs of circulation. Undergoing metamorphoses, they
first breathe after the manner of fish, and it is only later
that they acquire lungs. Their heart, which has only
two cavities, answers to the nght side of the heart in
the superior vertebrates.
We must pass in review all the functions to understand
how, in the animal organisation, all works together, solidifies,
* Alluding to the fable in which Saturn kills and eats his sons.
REPTILES AND BATRACHIANS. 47
and strengthens itself. ‘The more the circulation is de-
veloped, the more active is the respiration ; the more pure
the blood, the more the organs it supplies are invigorated ;
the strength is greater, the brain is more healthy and active,
while the intellectual manifestations are more lively and
enlarged. All the organs are in energetic combination one
with the other, so that the nervous system and the brain
are developed in proportion with the lungs. Even in the
reptiles, those which have the larger lungs possess a more
developed brain. ‘This organ is, indeed, very small in com-
parison with the body, being composed of six little tubercles,
which do not fill the cavity of the skull. The brain seems
to play such a little part in the life of reptiles, that it can be
taken away without causing the death of the animal. The
experiment has been made on the tortoise, which did not,
however, live above eighteen days. Reptiles eat and breathe
little ; their actions show very little activity, and their
organs of sensation are very feebly developed. The touch
is very dull, on account of the thickness and hardness
of their skin. The taste seems equally little developed,
the tongue being cartilaginous, and covered with a thick
glutinous secretion. The smallness of their organs of
smell shows the weakness of this sense. The ears alone
are pretty well developed, although often wanting several
of the usual parts, as the winding gallery, the cochlea, and
the interior canal. The drum is usually covered with scales
or muscles. Lacépéde says that reptiles must have feeble
sensations, and a low power of communication with other
creatures, and this produces that coldness, that apathy, that
confused instinct which we remark so often in many of
these animals,
If, then, we observe the principles of their vital move-
43 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
ments, we shall find a great simplicity both in the causes of
motion and the effects ; we shall see fewer springs of action,
and the connection between the different parts less marked.
The mutual communications are less perfect, and the move-
ments slower. Is this particular organisation one among
the causes of the little sensibility reptiles possess? and is
this coldness of temperament increased by their life in the
water? They do, however, seek the active light of the sun,
they themselves having little interior heat, and rejoice in
muddy places and a warm humidity. This moisture, aided
by heat, serves for their development.
The reader will perhaps ask, Why all this chapter on
reptiles, in which the intelligence has nothing wonderful
about it? What interest can we feel in beings less sensible
than others, less animated by lively passions, less active,
less social, not showing.art or industry, dwelling in the clefts
of rocks, or in the hollows of trees; beings which never
recognised a mother, and which never received nourishment,
care, help, or education from her? ‘The interest is greater
than is supposed. If reptiles do not seem gifted with high
faculties, if they have not the brilliant qualities, they possess
the virtues of a cold temperament, calmness, attention,
suspicion, and, above all, prudence; that of the serpent
having become proverbial. The serpent, says Chateau-
briand, associates itself naturally with religious ideas, from
the influence it has had on our destinies. An object of
horror or adoration, mankind has for it either an implacable
hate, or kneels before it as a genius. Deceit takes its name,
prudence is characterised by it ; envy takes this reptile for
a symbol, and eloquence is typified by the serpent wand.
It arms the foreheads of the Furies, and is made the symbol
of eternity.
Pie SNAKES,
ALL reptiles are not so repulsive or so spiteful as we may
think ; of this the green and yellow common snake is a remark-
able proof. It has neither mortal poison nor fatal fang, and
shows oniy agreeable movements, elegant proportions, and
soft or brilliant colours. When captive, says Lacépéde, it
submits to a servile condition, and adopts the movements
Snakes in Leading-strings.
taught. We have seen children tie two animals of this
kind by their tails, and compel them to crawl side by side.
They allow themselves to be twisted round the arm or
neck, to be rolled into spirals, to be coiled and uncoiled,
and suspended in different positions, without showing any
signs of discontent. They seem even to have pleasure in
thus playing with their masters. Valmont de Bomare saw
E
50 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
a snake so affectionate to its mistress, who fed it, that it
often glided along her arm, as if to caress her, hid itself
in the folds of her dress, and rested on her bosom. ‘The
animal went to her whenever it was called, followed her
constantly, even recognised her mode of laughing, and
turned to her when she approached, as if to wait her orders.
The same naturalist saw one day the mistress of this gentle
and familiar animal throw it into the strong current of a
deep tidal river, she preceding in a boat. The faithful
snake, always attentive to the voice of its dear mistress,
swam after the skiff which held her; but the tide coming in
strongly, and the waves being contrary to the tired animal’s
progress, the poor. reptile was at length drowned. ‘This
affection, this tenderness, this attention, so quick to recog-
nise a person and to follow her—could it exist without
something like memory and intelligence ?
Some of the most deadly serpents are capable of being
trained to a degree almost incredible by those who deny in-
telligence to the lower animals. ‘The venomous “spectacle
snake” (JVaja) of India and Africa is drilled to move and
dance to the sound of music. Some are even so far dis-
ciplined as to keep under restraint the natural tendency to
use their fatal fangs. It is by no means true, as many
suppose, that the “serpent-charmers” always extract the
poison-teeth of their dangerous pupils. The snake-tamers
are undoubtedly able, by a course of patient training, to
teach the fanged reptiles not only to obey each sound of
the flute or the gong, but to refrain from biting under the
greatest temptations. Some of these snake-teachers will
twine the zaja round their own necks, and place the reptile
on their heads, beneath the turban, with the most perfect
confidence in the creature’s self-restraint. Yet the same
THE SNAKES. 51
snake will, in a minute after, inflict a deadly wound on
a dog or a fowl brought within its reach; thus proving
clearly that it had neither lost the fangs nor the disposition
to use them.
- |
{
Snake swimming after its Mistress. ,
Now it must surely be granted that such snakes have |
the power of remembering and distinguishing the various |
musical sounds by which they regulate their movements. |
It is also equally clear that these deadly reptiles can be
E 2
i
52 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
educated so far as to control their natural impulses. In
fact, they can acquire mew habits, under tuition.
We know that “the wisdom of the serpent” has long
been accepted as an axiom ; and, whatever interpretation
we may give to the phrase, it certainly implies the existence
of what is properly called intelligence. The Buddhists of
Ceylon, who believe in the divinity of the ‘ hooded snake,”
may provoke our ridicule ; but the European who denies the
existence of any “wisdom” in the serpent, has little reason
to boast of his logical power, judicious discernment, or im-
partial estimate of physiological facts.
THE LIZARD.
Some lizards are so readily tamed, and become so familiar
with man, that we can scarcely refuse to believe in their
intelligence. The beautiful green lizard (Lacerta viridis)
will take food from the hands of its owner, and even lap
water from the hollow of its keeper’s hand. Our prettiest
British species is a small greenish-brown reptile (Lacerta
vivipara), speckled with orange and black, and is by no
means uncommon. If the green lizard were as highly
endowed with intelligence as it is with a wonderful power
of reproducing lost organs, it would rank with the “most
subtil” of creatures. ‘The naturalist, Blumenbach, destroyed
the eyes of some, and found those organs completely re-
stored after the lapse of some weeks. Of course no one is
rash enough to ascribe this remarkable restorative process
to any peculiar skill possessed by the animals; but a
mysterious power must, it is evident, be at work in the
physical constitution of these active little creatures.
Lizards are social beings, and are sometimes found in
countless multitudes, dwelling together in perfect harmony.
When Mr. Bruce visited the ruined Temple of the Sun at
Baalbec, his attention was for a time directed from those
wonderful ruins by the hosts of brightly-coloured lizards
which had taken possession of the once magnificent house
of Baal. These nimble reptiles were basking by thousands
in the sun. They swarmed on prostrate columns, and
darted in every direction over the Cyclopean granite masses
54 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
of the temple walls. In such silent and lonely places
these little creatures show the strength of their social
tendencies. What a startling change is here! Syrian
lizards finding a sunny home in the courts once crowded
by priests of Baal.
One family of lizards, the geckos, are furnished with
feet so complex in structure, that none but “clever
animals” could use such elaborate walking machines.
These feet are formed of a series of muscular layers, fringed
with a.sucker-like apparatus, and sometimes furnished with
a sharp and hooked claw. The geckos are thus enabled
to cling not only to walls, but to the smoothest surfaces,
and to run along ceilings like the house fly. These rep-
tiles know how to avail themselves of this peculiar organisa-
tion. Is a gecko hungry, it suspends itself, back down-
wards, to the under side of a large leaf, and waits, even
for hours, until an insect comes within reach. Here, then,
we find an animal provided with a delicate tool—for such
the gecko’s foot is—and we also see that the creature uses
this instrument in the most effective manner. If a me-
chanic has a thorough command over his tools, do we not
deem him a skilful workman? Why, then, should we
hesitate to admit a degree of intelligence in a reptile which
uses its own special tools in the most perfect manner?
This adhesive power.of the gecko’s foot is not, of course,
a mere mechanical result. ‘The animal has to use nightly
the numerous muscles by which the fan-like foot is ex-
panded, and also those which draw the fleshy fibres close
to the diversified surfaces of the bodies to which the lizard
clings. These remarkable feet, and the reptile’s intelligent
use of them, early attracted the attention of the ancient
Jews and Arabs. The Hebrew name for the lizard (Le¢aah)
THE LIZARD. 55
is generally derived from an Arabic root, signifying to cling,
The “spider” described in the Book of Proverbs (xxx. 28)
as taking “hold with her hands,” and living “in kings’
palaces,” is probably the gecko, which is found in the
most secluded parts of royal Eastern mansions. ‘The cool
manner in which these lizards await the near approach of a
foe, and then suddenly disappear, indicates a degree of
watchfulness combined with courage, which would be called
“presence of mind” in a human being. A man sees a
gecko on a wall, he resolves upon its capture, and slowly
the hand or net approaches. The bright eyes of the little
lizard are fixed on the coming peril; there is no sign of
stupid fright in the creature—only a keen observation of
the enemy’s motions. Just as the swoop is about to be
made, the creature disappears, as in the “twinkling of an
eye.” The disappointed man may, for a moment, be at
a loss to trace the lizard’s place of refuge; but he sees,
after some search, a small chink between the time-worn
stones of the wall, into which the creature has darted, and
where it is safe from human fingers. The defeated man
probably goes away with the reflection that the lizard has
intelligence enough to baffle him.
TORTOISES:
THE land tortoise has ever been chosen as a symbol of
slowness, both in motion and understanding; the sea
tortoise, or turtle, may be regarded as emblematical of
prudence. ‘This virtue, says Lacépede, which in animals is
the result of the dangers they have encountered, need not
astonish us in these tortoises, which are the most sought,
Tortoise under a Wagon-wheel
the danger in hunting them being little. The tortoises
are covered with a complete suit of bony armour, the upper
part being called the “carapace,” and is of so hard a nature
as to stand the pressure of extremely heavy weights. Even
a wagon-wheel has passed over the animal without breaking
its tough and firm covering. Mildness and capacity of
endurance are the distinguishing characteristics of the green
tortoise or turtle; and these qualities may have induced
’
TORTOISES. 57
o)
the imaginative Greeks of old to make it a symbol of
beauty, and Phidias to place such a creature at the feet
of his Venus. We may here remark how wonderfully the
character of the tortoise coincides with the formation of
its body: its habits are as regular as its shell is solid.
Being more passively than actively inclined, the tortoise
rarely experiences any strong desires; more prudent than
brave, it seldom defends, but rather tries to shelter itself,
and employs all its strength to cling to the ground when
we endeavour to raise it by the shell.
The sluggish motions of the common land tortoise may
lead many persons to underrate the intelligence of such a
“ridiculously slow” creature. This tardiness of progres-
sion arises from the animal’s peculiar structure, and is no
proof of dulness. Examine the legs, they appear like
crutches; notice the feet, they form a strong grappling
apparatus for pulling along a heavy weight ; but who would
expect swiftness from such toes? Some large tortoises do,
however, make long journeys with more rapidity than we
should have thought possible. Those in the Galapagos
islands were found by Mr. Darwin able to travel four miles
a day—a rate of progress not despicable in a creature pro-
vided with such legs, and so heavy that six men were often
required to lift one. But we must not forget that this slow
movement is characteristic of the land tortoise only ; those
inhabiting the waters swim with rapidity and ease, turtles
having been found 2,000 miles from land.
Though the tortoise is slow of foot, it is quick in using
all its available modes of defence. See how completely the
animal withdraws head and feet within the protecting cover
of its strong shell, in which, as in a castle, the tenant may
defy every foe, except man. The 40x tortoise (pyxis) pos-
58 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS. =
sesses a very singular defensive apparatus, which it well
knows how to use. The p/astron, or shell, covering the
under part of the body, is so formed that its front segment
can ‘be drawn upwards so as to protect the animal’s head
when this has been drawn back under the carapace.* The
upper and under shells then meet in front, forming a kind
of box, in which the creature is unassailable. When the
danger passes away the reptile relaxes a muscle, the raised’
part of the plastron then falls, allowing the head and fore-
feet to come forth. This movable plate is fastened to the
plastron by a strong hinge of elastic ligament. The effective
manner in which the tortoise uses its remarkable defensive
door, indicates as much of watchful intelligence as the cir-
cumstances require.
If the tortoises possessed the utmost powers of flight,
they would be foolish to run from their enemies, having
such impregnable fortresses in which to take refuge.
It is surely no proof of stupidity to make the best possible
use of the means at hand. This is just what the tortoise
does.
It may be said that the turtles must be stupid to allow
the hunters to turn them over on their backs by long poles,
when they must remain on the spot, being unable to recover
their natural position. But the turtles are, in this case, sub-
jugated by man, with whose skill the most cunning animal
cannot effectually contend. Besides, these reptiles are per-
fectly aware of their peril if thus overturned. When two
turtles engage in battle, the great object of each is to upset
his opponent. This being accomplished, the victor marches
off in triumph, feeling that his foe is powerless. These
creatures are, therefore, quite aware of the weak point in
* -The shell on the back of the tortoise.
TORTOISES. 59
uv
their organisation. Thus much, at least, of “ self-knowledge ”
even turtles possess. Some of the American river tortoises
(Gymnopus spiniferus) show so much cunning and energy
in attacking the fishermen, when caught, that the men can
only secure themselves from dangerous bites by cutting off
the heads of these reptiles as soon as possible. _
Few animals seem more impassive than. the common
tortoise, but those who are able to watch its movements
know that the creature is really very sensitive. What can it
feel, some may ask, of atmospheric influences, covered with
that insensible shell? The actions of the tortoise give the
reply. A few drops of rain will send it home with all speed ;
even the distant approach of a shower makes it uneasy.
Hence Gilbert White remarked that his tortoise showed “as
much solicitude about rain as a lady dressed in all her best
attire.” The bright light of the sun seems to be especially
grateful to tortoises. Rarely will they stir out at night, and
the approach of winter drives them into their retreats till
spring returns. ‘This physical sensitiveness shows a tempera-
ment less sluggish than is commonly supposed.
The animal also learns to recognise persons, remembers
those who feed it, instantly distinguishing them from stran-
gers. Here, therefore, we find memory exercised, and some
degree of discrimination is clearly shown. The common
tortoise has also skill enough to make for itself a winter
home in the ground, and, when spring comes, forms a hole
in the upper part of its cell in order to obtain a supply of
air without leaving the house when the weather is cold.
The turtles, too, exhibit some degree of contrivance in
forming the nests for their eggs. These are not mere
hollows scooped out in the sand, but resemble the ovens of
half-civilised tribes. Over the hollow in which the eggs are
Go THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
deposited earth is placed, so as to form a covering which
may protect the contents of the nest from the chilling damps
of tropical nights. This arch-like cover is not thick enough
to exclude the heat of the sun, but quite sufficient to retain
much of the warmth during the night. Nor is the position
of these nests on the shore a matter of indifference; they
must be placed above high-water mark, or the next tide
would sweep away the eggs.
The tortoises in tropical islands require much fresh
water for drinking, and have often discovered springs of ~
which the inhabitants were ignorant. When these animals
have found such a fountain, the whole surrounding district
is soon covered by “ tortoise roads,” made by these large
reptiles in their frequent journeys to and from the waters.
Some of these springs flow from volcanic rocks at a great
elevation, but the tortoises generally discover them..
The brain and nervous system of these reptiles have
been carefully examined by great anatomists, and the ex-
periments on the living animals will appear to some readers
exceedingly cruel. As the results prove only the extraordi-
nary vitality of the reptiles, and have little connection with
their intelligence, the briefest notice will suffice. A common
land tortoise moved about with apparent ease for more than
six months after its brain had been entirely removed. ‘The
eyes closed after the operation, but the vital powers of the
animal seemed little affected in other respects. In two of
these reptiles the heart continued to beat and the blood to
circulate for twelve days after their heads had been cut off.
It may well excite surprise that such extraordinary tenacity
of life should be generally found in animals possessing a low
intelligence. A mammal will-die in an instant from a wound
which a tortoise would survive for half a year.
THE SALAMANDER.
Why did Francis I. adopt, on one occasion, the salamander
in the fire for his device, with the motto—“I live in and
extinguish it?” There was here a twofold allusion—one
pointing to an ancient superstition, the other to the perilous
position of the king himself and his hopes of victory.
Francis probably believed that the salamander could really
live in the fire, or at least could endure the flames unharmed
until it extinguished them. By adopting so strange a
device he plainly intimated to friends and foes that, though
surrounded by dangers, he should escape harm, and finally
triumph. Let any reader take up one of our British sala-
manders, either the large or small water newt, or eft, as the
rustics call it, and observe the timid, harmless creature,
about which such marvels were formerly believed. It could
live in the fire, said most men ; it would poison the vegeta-
tion of a whole region, was the gloomy declaration of Pliny ;
its venom was deemed so deadly, that a proverb uttered the
terrible warning, “if a salamander bites you, put on your
shroud.” The orchard-keepers dreaded its approach, be-
lieving that if it should touch but one apple the whole tree
would be infected. The farmer abhorred the creature, sup-
posing that it sucked the milk from his cows. In truth,
nearly all men looked upon the unlucky reptile with horror
and hate, as furnishing the most deadly spell for the
witches’ incantations. Thus the poor salamander had
gained for itself the honour of being the most hated animal
62 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
on the earth. There were a few, indeed, who endeavoured
to extract good from its body ; but they rather increased
the perils of the persecuted reptile. The heart, being
placed in a small casket and worn round the neck, was
deemed a protection against fire, and a preservative from
contagious disease. Even man’s love of gold brought
misery to the salamander. The alchymists—who were
in fact the fathers of chemistry—believed that if quick-
silver were poured on a roasting salamander the metal
would be turned into gold. The sins of the experimenter
might, indeed, prevent the transmutation ; and it is to be
feared that all the operators were great sinners, as their
attempts seem to have universally failed.
Was the salamander the most stupid, or the most clever
of reptiles, that it incurred such persecutions? Neither
attribute was the cause of its calamities. The fluid which it
sometimes pours from its skin, may have slightly damped
the heat of burning fagots, or have raised small blisters on
the fingers of its persecutors, and from such occurrences the
credulity and ignorance of mankind drew up a terrible list |
of horrors.
All the salamanders do, however, possess a power which
we, in the nineteenth century, must call mysterious, and
which the ancients might well have deemed supernatural.
No creatures reproduce destroyed organs in a greater degree
than the salamanders. This has attracted the attention of
the greatest physiologists, and baffled the scrutiny of human
science. Our large water newt (7Z7iton cristatus) will not
only survive the amputation of tail, legs, eyes, and head, but
will reproduce nearly all the destroyed parts in their original
perfection. But such renovating energies are rather physio-
logical mysteries than signs of intelligence ; we will, there-
é —
THE SALAMANDER. 63
fore, now mention one process which suggests that even our
common newt is endowed with something like reason. The
female forms a separate cradle for every egg deposited ; she
selects the leaf of some water plant, especially one of the
joint-worts (polygonum persicaria), and bends it until the
under side is brought in contact with her body. An egg is
then glued to the leaf, the end of which, being folded back
on the after-part of the leaf, forms a well-contrived case.
The folded part is prevented from returning to the straight
position by a gummy secretion, with which the newt glues
the sides of the inverted leaf together. ‘These bent parts of
the plant are easily observed by those naturalists who are
familiar with this animal’s ingenious mode of protecting her
eggs. In this process we may note the following stages of
an intelligent work. First, the selection of a leaf fitted for
the purpose ; then the gluing the egg firmly to prevent the
water from carrying it away ; next follows, in most natural
order, the work of making the cradle by folding the leaf
back. Did the reptile stop here, the whole of the previous
work might be in vain, as the elasticity of the vegetable
fibres would soon bring back the leaf to its natural position.
This is prevented in a mode thoroughly rational ; the reptile
worker fastens the folded part down, and thus the object is
secured. Every step in this operation proceeds as reason
would dictate.
THE DOMESTICATED TOAD.
WE shall finish this chapter on reptiles with a short account
of a toad which lived more than thirty-six years in a hole
beneath the door-step of a French farm-house. How old it
was when first noticed no one could say, but it had pro-
bably lived a long time before familiarity with the sight of
man emboldened it to rest tranquilly on the door-step, over
which many persons were constantly passing. ‘The step
became, in reality, the reptile’s hunting-ground, where, with
little trouble, it might capture the ants which persisted in
crossing and re-crossing the step. The toad ‘hunting for
its supper,” became one of the regular sights of the neigh-
bourhood, and certainly the skilful manner in which the
creature used its wonderfully formed tongue, left an im-
pression upon all spectators that this toad was a most clever
insect-hunter. Four particulars, especially, fixed the atten-
tion of the more thoughtful observers. It was soon evident
that the toad was most skilful in judging distances ; the
tongue was never darted at an insect until it came within a
certain range—this space was never miscalculated. The
accuracy of the creature’s aim was another matter for sur-
prise. The insects were generally, if not always, in motion
when the tongue was darted out against them; but the
arrow never failed to hit. The singular rapidity with
which the organ was shot forth excited equal wonder.
Many curious watchers were unable to note every motion ;
only a few of the keener eyes could manage this. Yet this
THE DOMESTICATED TOAD. 65
operation was a complex one. ‘The tongue is doubled or
folded up when in the mouth; there is therefore a twotold
action required—an uncoiling of the weapon, and then the
darting out process. ‘The withdrawing of the tongue, with
the captured insect on the tip, was not less remarkable thar:
the other operations. Notwithstanding the rapid motion,
the fineness of the tongue tip, and the struggles of the prey,
the captured victim was never dropped.
Now it is clear that, in all this hunting work, the toad
intelligently employed two instruments in harmonious co-
Operation—the eye and the tongue. The one never failed
the other. The rifle-shooter knows how much practice is
required before eye and hand act perfectly together; our
domesticated toad had gained this power over the combined
action of two dissimilar organs.
The tameness of this toad was so remarkable, that we
may justly call the animal “domesticated.” It would remain
quietly in one hand, and take its food from the other, pro-
vided a leaf were placed on the hand which held it. Without
this precaution, the warmth of the human skin evidently
annoyed the cold reptile. Few things seemed to please the
animal more than placing it on a table in the evening when
the lamp was lighted. It then, with the greatest confidence,
would look round with its gleaming eyes, and when insects
were placed on the table, snapped them up with a rapidity
which seemed greater than in its day huntings.
In this way the animal lived for thirty-six years, in or
near the house, the pet of the village and the neighbourhood.
It might have lived for as many years more, had not a tame,
but spiteful and jealous raven pecked out one of the toad’s
eyes. The vindictive bird brought upon himself universal
hatred for this “assault, battery, and maiming ;” but this
F
66 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
sympathy was no profit to the reptile. Then we saw how
much the proper use of its tongue depended on the sight.
The toad could no longer measure distances accurately, or
aim with certainty. A newt might have restored its eye,
but this was beyond the science of our reptile, which died
in about a year after the injury, apparently from starvation.
| Es os
THEIR INTELLIGENCE —VARIETY OF THEIR DWELLING-
PLACES—LITTLE PARENTAL FEELING——COURAGE AND
ACTIVITY IN SELECTING SPAWNING-GROUNDS—MEMORY
—LONG LIFE—RESEMBLANCES TO BIRDS-— BRAINS—
EYES—TOUCH—INTELLIGENCE OF THE MILLER’S THUMB
—SKILL OF THE STICKLEBACKS AND THORNBACKS—
SOCIABILITY OF PERCH—ABILITY OF THE SHOOTING
FISH—INTELLIGENCE OF A PIKE—HABITS OF THE SEA-
HORSES—THE SHARKS——STRATAGEMS OF THE TURBOTS,
EELS, DILK-HEADS, AND DART-FISH.
Fis do not exhibit many of the signs of animal intelli-
gence. The element in which they live may, indeed, pre-
vent us from observing them closely. Many proofs of fish
skill and tokens of ingenuity may be hidden in the sands of
rivers and the depths of ocean. We do undoubtedly
discern a certain amount of watchfulness and cunning in
our common river fish. How slily does the trout lie in
wait for the plump gudgeon! how warily does an expe-
rienced fish swim round and round the bait, scanning it
from every side with a scrutiny which says, “there’s some-
thing suspicious here!” Practised anglers will recall many
cases in which the most seductive baits and the most
enduring patience have failed to hook some sagacious
-*“ fourteen-pounder.” But, nevertheless, the intelligence of
the fishes is not ranked very high by naturalists, though it
may be questioned whether some have not placed the acute-
Pe
68 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
ness of the order too low. One compares a fish to a
“stupid old man with a softening brain,” a comparison
which shows little observation in the writer himself. ‘‘ The
low forehead and heavy head” are also pointed out as the
signs of stupidity in a fish. Such naturalists forget that the
form of the head in these animals is adapted to facilitate
their motion through the water, and has little, if any, influ-
ence on their intelligence. This must be inferred from the
creature’s habits rather than from the shape of its skull.
The question whether fish have not less cunning than
reptiles has been proposed, but who can give an answer
which shall be supported by satisfactory proofs? Cases
might easily be selected of clever fishes and dull reptiles by
one person, while another could produce an equal number
of subtle reptiles and foolish fish.
The dwelling-places of these “people of the waters”
are exceedingly varied, and each must require the exercise
of instincts and habits suited to the localities in which the
fish makes its home. Some delight in the mud, some in
stagnant waters, and these seem dull and lazy in the day-
time ; but, as many are night feeders, their activities are
concealed from our observation. Some frequent rippling
brooks, where the clearest waters roll musically over silvery
sands ; others delight in the strong currents of deep tidal
rivers, sporting near the surface, or luxuriating in the warm
depths of the water. Some, like the salmon, inhabit alter-
nately the fresh and salt water, frequenting the rivers in
summer, and returning to the sea for the winter. One
family of fishes possesses also the power of “flying in the
air,” or, at least, of sustaining themselves by the action of
the large and outspread fins during a flight of two hundred .
yards. Now this great variety of waters and changes of
FISH. 69
locality seem to require in fish an equal diversity of instincts
and capacity of adapting themselves to changes. But such
power of accommodating itself to circumstances is rarely
found in a stupid animal.
Fishes, it is said, have none of that training of their
instincts which the bringing up of their young affords to so
many animals. This remark is perfectly just. There can
be no doubt that the necessity of providing for the young
is a most potent educator of animal instincts. Fish are
undoubtedly deprived of this powerful stimulus, and the
reason is clear. Their children are too numerous to admit
of such care. It is easy for the active swallow to tend her
three or four nestlings, but what would a fish do had she to
watch over a million of hungry young ones? When, there-
fore, the herring or salmon leave their almost countless
eggs to be hatched on rocks or sands, they are simply
-obeying a law of nature, which commands them thus
to act.
It cannot, however, be said that even fis. are en-
tirely without regard for their race. If we admire the
zeal with which a bird constructs the nest—a place of safe
deposit for her eggs—we cannot entirely overlook the
energy with which the salmon forces her way up a stream,
until she finds a place suitable for the reception of the ova.
In this attempt the fish will contend with currents, leap up
waterfalls twenty feet high, and brave every peril. To this
extent, therefore, these animals are brought under the influ-
ence of what is in them the maternal feelings. It is this
impulse alone which brings every year to our shores such
countless myriads of herrings and mackerel from their usual
homes in the deeper waters. It may, however, be said that
these migrations are no proof of intelligence, but only of a
70 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
blind instinct. This conclusion is certainly not true in all
cases. ‘The salmon does undoubtedly show intelligence in
surmounting the obstacles to her progress in rocky streams.
Fish, too, are acute enough to abandon their old haunts
when unusually disturbed. They are not, therefore, alto-
gether led in these migrations by a blind instinct, but select
or reject certain waters, according to circumstances.
The ingenuity shown by young eels in overcoming the
obstacles to their progress up a river, even climbing up
locks and floodgates, is another proof that these inhabitants
_of the waters are able to devise special methods of over-
coming special difficulties.
The possession of a strong memory by fish is proved by
the return, over long distances, to the waters where they
were hatched. Salmon have often been marked before
going to the sea, and the next year have been found in
their old haunts.
We must not forget that the long life which is granted to
fishes must at length develop in old ones a high degree of
prudence or cunning. Every angler knows the difference
between the heedless dash of a young trout at a bait, and
the suspicious approach of an old and experienced “lord of
the river.” If we grant that fish are the most dull of
animals, we must also admit that longevity gives time for
drawing out and stimulating even sluggish instincts.
Thus, if the higher life of intelligence be less developed,
or at least more retarded, the animal life is longer; fish
gain in longevity what they lose in intensity ; so they would
not have uttered the maxim, “ Life, short and sweet.”
Constantly plunged in water, the fibres, the bones, and the.
tissues of fish preserve for a long time their flexibility. The
progress both of growth and decomposition is more retarded,
FISH. 7
and the ossification less rapid, as the cartilaginous skeletons
of fish show.
By their organisation, they form a race of beings between
the articulated and the vertebrated orders, and are very in-
teresting subjects of study. They form one link in a great
family of animals, of which the birds are another, and to
which they have a great and peculiar resemblance, both
being inhabitants of fluids, in which they move with a
activity and ease.
Fishes, said Virey, may be regarded as birds of the sea,
and birds as fishes of the atmosphere. The wings of the
one are represented by the fins of the other, and the feathers
by scales. If there are aquatic birds there are also aerial or
flying fish. Swimming and flight are nearly the same act,
executed in two different fluids; the fish flies in water, as
the bird swims in the atmosphere. If the winds assist,.the
flight of birds with feeble wings, the currents of the sea aid
the weak fins of fish, while the stronger species of both
orders brave the currents of the ocean or the tempests of
the air.
As there are some birds unable to fly, there are’ also
some fish which cannot swim ; there are, again, some which
live in society and others which prefer a solitary life. The
annual migration of fishes to the depths of the sea is
not less regular than the migration of birds to distant
lands. Both travel in large numbers to other regions, either
to gather more abundant nourishment, or to reproduce the
species in peace. Each returns to its first country, and
it is at these seasons that man makes such havoc among the
singing birds of the air and the dumb inhabitants of the
deep.
Strong contrasts are also evident between these was
72 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
classes of animals. The bird is less prolific than the fish.
The latter has the flesh less firm, the muscular fibres feeble,
and is apathetic; the former is remarkable for physical
energy and high excitability. The bird is attached to its
- family, loves, attends, and nourishes it; the fish has no
attachment for its young, and abandons them without
regret. Birds naturally abound in the Northern Hemi-
sphere because there is more land; while in the Southern
Hemisphere fishes predominate on account of the extent
of water.
If the tropical birds are enriched with splendid colours,
the fishes of the equatorial seas are not less brilliant. Cui-
~ rasses of gold, silver, azure, rubies, and emeralds, sparkle in
the waves like precious stones under the light of the sun;
but these splendid decorations often vanish at death, while
‘the colour of the feathers does not thus fade among birds.
Fishes change their colours and scales according to their
: age, sex, and seasons ; birds also moult their plumage and
lose their diversity of tint from the same causes. As birds
indicate the coming of tempests by their peculiar flight, so
fishes by their unquiet movements announce the approach
of storms, and rise to the surface of the water when it is
likely to rain.
This great resemblance between these two classes of
animals depends no doubt on the medium which they in-
habit, for fluidity being common to air and water, we should
expect a resemblance between the beings which are found.
there. Nature is obliged to follow the path set before it, as
if an invisible hand had traced the route through which
it must pass in all ages.
As the habits, manners, and intelligence depend on the
nervous system, we shall have a better idea of organic per-
FISH. 73
fection and the more or less development of sensibility and
intelligence by considering this in fishes.
The central parts of the nervous system in fish are com-
posed, like that of vertebrated animals, of the brain and
the spinal marrow. ‘The brain is lodged in the cranium,
and the spinal marrow occupies the vertebral canal, filling
the whole length. There are only a few exceptions to this
remark ; we may mention the sea-devil or frog-fish, and the
moon-fish, in which the spinal marrow is’extremely short.
But considering the largeness of the head in fishes, and
the capacity of their cranium, the brain is rather small. As
there is a harmony between the extent of the intellectual
manifestations and the development of the brain, we find
evidence enough to support the opinion that fishes are
creatures very imperfectly gifted with intelligence. .
The brain, instead of being close to the inner surface of
the cranium, as among the superior animals, occupies a very
limited space in the skull. A slight shake suffices to displace
it if there is not sufficient oily matter to fill the empty space.
The brain of fishes is marked by the feeble centralisation of
the parts ; the functions of the nervous centres appearing
to be less localised than among the higher vertebrated
animals. See how this proves that the organisation in-
fluences the intelligence, and that it is not only necessary
to consider the volume, but also the density and com-
position of the brain. Fishes whose brains nearly approach
those of the higher vertebrated forms are the skates, and
those known scientifically under the name of flagzostomes.*
Their cerebral hemispheres are strongly developed, and,
above all, very large, but do not fill the skull. The twe
© A word signifying wxeven jaws, and including the shark family.
74 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
inferior lobes, the optic lobes, and the cerebellum* are well
developed. The brains of carp are larger than those of
other fish in proportion to the size of their bodies. This
proportion in the carp is as 1 to 500, the same as in the
elephant. If it were easier to observe the manners of these
animals, we might, without doubt, see among them signs
of intelligence in accordance with the development of their
brains.
In a very interesting notice on the brains of fishes,
M. Holard has shown that these comprehend every part
which exists in the brains of superior animals. We must
not forget the experiments of Magendie and Desmoulins,
or those of M. Flourens, by which these physiologists
attempted, by cutting and removing certain lobes of the
brain, to observe the true functions of this organ. Lastly,
Dr. Baudelot has proved that fishes do not appear to be
incommoded by the destruction of the hemispheres of the
cerebrum.t The animal seems even then to preserve all
its faculties, and moves with the same agility and the same
certainty as before the operation. The result is very
different from that produced upon mammalia, or among
birds, in which the removal of the hemispheres would cause
a profound stupor, and an annihilation of the intellectual
faculties. |
Fishes have some well-developed senses. Every one
has remarked the convex shape of their eyes, which fits
them to see in the water, and is adapted to the peculiar
refraction. which a ray of light undergoes in passing through
so dense a fluid. The range of their vision being extended,
and the survey accurate, they dart with amazing certainty
* The small inner brain.
+ The outer and larger part of the brain.
FISH. 75
upon a bait. All fishermen will tell you what precautions
are necessary in approaching the water, in order not to
frighten the fish. The Romans, who did not care much
about fish except to eat them, had nevertheless remarked
the acuteness of hearing in these animals. It delighted
them to give particular names to the inhabitants of their
fish-ponds, and they were successful in making each one
come at the sound of its name. ‘The sense of smell appears
to be very refined and very perfect among the inhabitants
of the waters. Their olfactory nerves are strongly de-
veloped, and experiments made by Mr. Jesse prove the
acuteness of their smell. He fed fish in a basin, and
noticed that these animals preferred paste and worms which
had been prepared with certain perfumes. This fact is not
unknown to anglers, some of whom soak their baits in
odorific substances to stimulate the appetites of the more
luxurious fishes.
Who knows whether fishes do not owe their little-
developed intelligence to want of taste and of touch?
What can we expect from beings who’ have no taste?
Therefore fishes do not eat, they swallow. It is only people
of sense, said a celebrated gastronomer, who know how
to eat! _
If fishes want the sense of touch they have but little
occasion for its exercise. Existence for them is not very
difficult, they have only to give way and go down the river
of life. ‘The inhabitants of the waters also appear very
insensible ; never have we seen a fish shed a tear !
But to preserve himself and to ensure the existence of
posterity, the inhabitant of the waters does put off his
carelessness and his intellectual torpor. Look at the
miller’s thumb, called the bull-head. It has a large head,
76 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
at least as wide as it is long among the old males, a little
flattened above, forming not less than a third of the animal.
Its eyes are smaller than the eyes of most other fishes, but
they are sharp, and placed near the top and towards the
side of the head, so that a wide survey is taken at once.
With such a head, and such an extended view, this fish
might be expected to possess a high degree of acuteness.
It has been shown that the miller’s thumb is usually too
intelligent to take the bait. In order to capture the fish the
fisherman is obliged to use a net, which is dragged along
while he overturns the stones and stirs the sand, either with
his feet or with a stick, to dislodge the fish hidden in the
cavities, and to force them into the net. Three men are
necessary to put this plan perfectly into practice, even in a
small river ; whilst two drag the net up the stream, the third
goes before, stirring the ground with his stick in the direction
of the net. 7
See the intelligence and the care with which the stickle-
back constructs its nest. M. Emile Blanchard relates,
that towards the first days of June, under ordinary circum-
stances, the male stickleback seems to be looking out for
a convenient place. He keeps moving a long time about
the same locality, frequently quitting it and then return-
ing. After having stopped and determined on a place,
he digs with his snout into the mud at the bottom of the
water, and ends by burying himself there. Then, working
vehemently, and turning with great rapidity round and
round, he forms a cavity, which is bounded by the earthy
matter thrown out at the edges. This first part of the work
executed, the fish withdraws himself, looks on all sides, and
is evidently in quest of something. A little patience yet,
and you will observe him seize between his teeth a vegetable
FISH. 77
thread or filament of a root. Then, holding this in his
mouth, he returns directly to the little trench which he
has dug. He there places the thread, fixes it with the
aid of his snout, taking some grains of sand to keep it in
position, and rubbing it with his belly on the ground. When
he is assured that the fragile filament will not be washed
away by the stream, he goes to seek more, and adjusts
this as he did the first. ‘The same work is repeated over
and over again, until the bottom of the trench is covered
with a sufficient bed of weeds. The time arrives when the
layer is thick enough ; all the parts are attached one to
the other very nicely, and are well trimmed, because the
stickleback has rubbed the ends with the mucous matter
which exudes from openings along his sides. That which
charms the attentive observer is the imtelligence which
appears to preside over the lesser details of the operation.
In placing the materials, the fish seems at fi.st simply to
heap them up; but when once the first row is fixed, he
disposes them with more care, arranging them to suit the
Opening at the entrance of the nest. lf the work is not
perfect, the clever workman draws the defective pieces
out, fastens: them, and works away until he has assured
himself that all is as he wishes. Amongst the materials
brought, those which have an inconvenient form or size are
immediately rejected. The stickleback rapidly moves his
fins to produce strong currents, as if he would assure him-
self of the solidity of his edifice, and that none of it can
be washed away. ‘This is not all. The foundations of
the nest are laid, and in order to complete the edifice our
architect must travel much ; but his perseverance does not
abate. He continues to procure materials, shapes the sides
and bottom of the trench, ornamenting them with weeds,
;
i
"
i
;
= .
78 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
pressed and crossed the one over the other. The stickle-
back always glues these together with the utmost care.
He introduces himself between the two upright walls,
leaving a cavity large enough for the female to pass without
The Stickleback and its Nest.
difficulty. He then proceeds v0 construct the roof. Fresh
weeds are brought and placed upon the top of the walls
already formed, and then fastened at their extremities.
The fish always pursues his work in the same manner,
fixing and turning the grass blades with his snout, trimming
e walls of the edifice, and agglutinating them with the
FISH. 79
eummy fluid pressed from the pores of his body. The
cavity is particularly the object of his care; he rectifies
many mistakes in it, until the sides of the nest are well
- formed. Sometimes the domicile is closed at one of its
extremities ; but more often it is open at both ends. The
Opening opposite to that by which the animal enters so
frequently to accomplish its work is allowed to remain
very small. It is constructed with the utmost care; not
one blade of grass projects beyond another; the surface
is glued and polished with the most minute precautions, to
render the passage easy.
If the different species of the true sticklebacks act in
exactly the same manner, the method of working difters in
some species of the great division of thorn-backed fishes.
The male in every species is always the sole architect, and
he shows no less skill, no less vigilance than the true
stickleback. He fixes his nest at a certain height from
the bottom, among the stems or on the leaves of the
plants which interlace in the waters. He makes choice
of most delicate materials—water weeds, very light or very
delicate filaments of herbs. He carries these to the place
where he intends to construct his little edifice; taking
wonderful care to make them stick to the vegetables on
which they are to remain, and to prevent them from being
carried away by the stream. He employs in this case the
same means as the stickleback, fixing the materials with
mucous fluid by rubbing them with his body. When the
mass of herbs and weeds is large enouzh, the fish forces
himself into the middle with his snout; he is soon half
buried, but continues to advance more and more, working
with his dorsal spines, which separate the filaments one
from the other. At length he makes his exit by an open-
\
80 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
ing opposite to that at which he entered. At this moment
the nest has taken its definite form, and may be compared
to a muff. The edifice is finished when the walls of the
tube are lined and the entrance smoothed. All this is
done by the same means as we have seen are employed
by the stickleback.
The vital energies of the sticklebacks rank high. They
can endure a direct transfer from fresh to salt water, a
change which would kill many fish.
Sticklebacks and thornbacks are not the only fish which
imitate birds in making nests for their eggs. Gold-fish
construct their nests with leaves; but sometimes a hole
is dug in the river bank. The father and the mother
watch in turns with devoted attention, and defend with
courage their future family. This display of parental
feeling is to be especially noted, as it is exceedingly rare
among fish.
Other marks of intelligence show themselves in these
animals. We know that it is the character of intelligent
beings to live in society. The perch is eminently sociable.
A great number of these fish form a shoal, as if a sort of
treaty had been signed between them. In a time of calm
we may observe them in large bodies in a lake, a river, or
under banks, where they keep themselves near the surface
of the water, and are stationary. But their sense of hearing
is very acute, and the least unaccustomed sound makes
them take to flight. They disappear rapidly, and flee to
some spot which is the common hiding-place of the whole.
They have been found twenty or thirty in the same place,
and in certain cases all have been taken, one after the
other.
Other fishes show an address which surpasses that of
FISH. : £1
the most intelligent men. A species of the chetodon,*
better known under the name of the shooting-fish (Chelmon
rostratus), has a very long narrow tube projecting from its
head. It frequents the shores of the sea and the banks of
rivers to obtain food. ‘ When,” said Dr. Jonathan Franklin,
“it sees a fly perched upon a water plant, it swims up to
within the distance of four, five, or six feet, then, with a
wonderful dexterity, shoots from its mouth a drop of water,
which never fails to strike the fly and knock it into the sea,
where it becomes a prey to its enemy.”
The recital of a deed so very uncommon roused the
curiosity of the governor of the hospital of Batavia, in the
isle of Java.’ The fact was attested by credible witnesses,
but he refused to believe such reports. He ordered a large
jug to be filled with sea-water, and, having many of the
fishes, placed them in the jug, changing the water every
day. Ina short time they were reconciled to their state of
captivity ; then the governor resolved to commence his
experiment. He took a slender rod, at the end of which
he fixed a fly with a pin, then placed this stick on the
side of the vessel, so that the fish might see the insect. It
was with a sentiment of inexpressible joy that he saw these
fishes exercise their power in shouting with a marvellous
velocity at the fly, never missing their mark.
The jack, or pike, of our rivers, gives signs of intelli-
gence and of sentiment. ‘‘ Do not smile at this, alliance of
words,” said Dr. Franklin. ‘“ The sentiment of the pike!
Are not the most ferocious mammalia often those which
show themselves most capable of attachment and intimate
association with man? Why should it not be thus with
the finny tribe?” The following anecdote was read, in 1850,
* A word signifying fine tccth, like bristles.
82 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
before a learned assembly, the Literary and Philosophicat
Society of Liverpool :—
“When I lived at Durham,” read Dr. Warwick, “I was
walking one evening in a park belonging to the Earl of
Stamford, along the bank of a lake where fishes abounded.
My attention was turned towards a fine jack of about 6lbs.;
which, seeing me, darted into the middle of the water. In
its flight it struck its head against the stump of a post,
fractured its skull, and wounded a part of the optic nerve.
The animal gave signs of ungovernable pain, plunged to the
bottom of the water, burying its head in the mud, and
turning with such rapidity that I lost it fora moment; then
it returned to the top, and threw itself clean out of the
water on to the bank. I examined the fish, and found
that a small part of the brain had gone out through the
fracture of the cranium.
““T carefully replaced the shattered brain, and, with a
small silver tooth-pick, raised the depressed parts of the
skull. The fish was very quiet during the operation ; then
I replaced it in the porid. It seemed at first relieved, but
after some minutes it threw itself about, plunged here and
there, and at last threw itself once more out of the water.
It. continued thus to ‘act many times following. I called
the keeper, and, with his assistance, applied a bandage to
the fracture. This done, we threw the fish into the water,
and left him to his fate. The next morning, when I ap-
peared on the bank, the pike came to me near where I sat,
and put his head near my feet! I thought the act extra-
ordinary, but taking up the fish, without any resistance on
its part, I examined the head, and found that it was going
on well, I then walked along the banks for some’ time;
the fish did not cease to swim after me, turning when I
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FISH. . 85
turned; but as it was blind on the side where it was
wounded, it appeared always agitated when the injured eye
was turned towards the bank. On this, I changed the
direction of my movements. The next day I brought some
young friends to see this fish, and the pike swam towards
me as before. Little by little he became so tame that he
came when I whistled, and ate from my hand. With other
people, on the contrary, it was as gloomy and fierce as it
always had been.” |
“The history of this knowing pike is a hint from
nature,” says Dr. Franklin, “and suggests some new ideas
of faculties which may be given to fishes. It is to be re-
gretted that the element in which fishes live is such that we
are not able to make an intimate acquaintance with them.
It would be ridiculous to say that the barrier is passable ;
but in certain cases, as we see, it is not man who goes to
the fish, it is the fish which comes to man.”
Another sign of the intelligence of animals is their
capability of being tamed. The cod-fish—who will believe
it?—is one of the fishes which appreciates the society and
the caresses of man. It may be taken in the hands, and
caressed, if you do not forget to flatter its appetite with
some victuals. Oh, the mighty stomach !
It is often to the smallest beings that we must look for
intelligence. Certain small fishes-called sea-horses (Hippo-
campus), which live in the Mediterranean, and whose habits
have been closely observed by Mr. Lukis, have given mani-
fest signs of intelligence. This observer kept in a glass
vessel two female sea-horses. “I saw that these fishes
sought a place for repose. I satisfied their desires by
placing in the vessel the stems of some sea-weed; this
was what they wanted. They then displayed their true
86 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS. .
habits, and I ought to say that no inhabitants of the deep
show themselves more acute than the sea-horses. When
they swim, these fishes preserve a vertical position, but
their tail is ready to seize upon whatever is found in the
water, often clinging to the reeds, the fish thus holding
on with their tails. Once fixed, the animal observed all the
objects around, and darted on the prey with great dexterity.
When one approached the other, they often interlaced
_ their tails, and it was only after much struggling that they
could separate themselves. When they came to the end of
a reed, they would hold on even by the lower part of the
cheek, or chin. They acted in the same manner when they
wanted to rest their bodies, or when they.desired to fix their
tail upon some new object.”
The. shark, whose fierce instinct and ferocity are pro-
verbial, may be tamed. Lacépede, in whom we do not put
much trust, in spite of his genius, said that sharks become
gentle under certain circumstances, and show affections very
different from their usual destructive tendencies.
The skate, which we believe is little capable of tender-
ness, 1s, however, if we trust Lacépéde, susceptible of great
attachment, scarcely any being having more fidelity, and
none proving more constant in love.
It is said that necessity is the mother of invention ; we
may learn that it is the mother of intelligence also. There
is not a being so barbarous but it may be modified in its
habits, and its talent developed, according to circumstances.
An intelligence peculiar to the finny tribe, leads them to
select food suitable to the seasons of the year. The most
tempting fly presented to a fish, when it is not in season,
will be refused ; and again, you may offer it at certain hours
of the day, when the fish will care but little for it. Say if
FISH. 87
turbots want intelligence, which plough up the sand in —
furrows, or dig themselves refuges at the bottom of the sea
in which to hide themselves from their enemies. Is the eel
foolish, which goes out at night from the bottom of the
mud and travels over the meadows to surprise the sleeping
worms? Do you treat as among simpletons that gilt-head,
which lives in the depths of the water, and affects a good-
natured air to entice the little fishes round him without mis-
trust? At the moment when they are within his reach he
stretches forth his extensible snout, and, in an instant,
swallows the unwary. Observe, also, the lIong-beaked
banded-fish, or the wary dart-fish, which shly approaches
the flies, shoots them with water, and never misses them !
Do you say that fishes have less sensibilitv than man?
It seems true ; but take the answer from Sir Walter Scott:
“Tt is a delicate question, and one which fishes alone would
be able to solve.” Are they less happy than the more in-
telligent beings? Listen to Virey: “Fishes digest easily,
are not affected by variation of temperature, neither by in-
equality of living, neither from loss by perspiration, from
any derangement of body, blood, or humours.” Some
philosophers assert that fish have not, like man, heartaches
which cripple life, disappointments, or passions to torment
them ; that they are not elated with lively pleasures, or de-
pressed by profound grief; and have as temperate a nature as
the medium in which they live. These enthusiastic naturalists
urge that the proud repose of the stoic, and the soft luxury of
the epicurean, are the fruits of reason, while the quiet joys
of the phlegmatic temperament belong to the fishes; that
reason is not so sure a barrier against passions as apathy of
body; and so aquatic animals will always have the advantage
over terrestrial, and live proportionately longer. -
BIRDS.
MISTAKES ABOUT BIRDS—-THEIR BRAINS, SIGHT, HEARING,
TASTE, AND SMELL—-HOME INSTINCTS—MUSCULAR POWER
—RESPIRATION—TEMPERATURE—BIRDS OF PASSAGE—
BIRDS IN SPRING—-THEIR COLOURS—INTELLIGENCE OF
THE FEMALE—THEIR HEROISM IN DEFENCE OF THE
YOUNG—-ENERGY OF THE SPARROW—BIRDS CLASSED
ACCORDING TO THEIR INTELLIGENCE—BIRD LANGUAGE
—TOOLS OF BIRDS ; FEET AND BEAKS,
Wuo has not often heard it said of a frivolous and incon-
siderate person, “ She has the head of a linnet ?”
Popular common sense is sometimes mistaken in ifs
comparisons, but this is essentially just. This charming
little bird, with a fine delicate head, manifests, indeed, but
little intelligence and reflection. In vain its beauty seeks
to atone for its want of sense. Light-headed the linnet is
called, light-headed it will remain. But this bird is not the
only one which we accuse of want of sense. Our rhetoric
makes use of a number of comparisons regarding the
winged tribe, which we are only too ready to adopt. We
are constantly saying, “stupid as a turkey,” “silly as a
snipe,” “‘ foolish as a buzzard.”
We associate such an idea of imbecility with winagte that
when we wish to taunt or ridicule each other, we make use
of such terms as “ goose,” &c.
We lay all our bad passions on these innocent creatures.
We call the owl untamable and taciturn ; the heron sad
BIRDS. 89
and melancholy ; the gull is insatiable and clamorous; the
magpie inquisitive, boasting, and thievish. To hear our
language, one would say birds must be essentially a race of
degraded creatures. But itis not so. Science, wiser than
imagination, has declared that birds have not such little
brains as we have been led to suppose.
It has been proved that the brain of the canaries excels,
in proportion to the bulk of their bodies, that of man. We
know well that, in a general way, the brain of birds is not
so voluminous as that of the mammalia ; the hemispheres
are deficient in circumvolutions, and are not so well de-
veloped. And here again we find that the intellectual
manifestations are in proportion to the extent of the cerebral
organs. The brain of the ostrich is not larger than that of
‘he barn-cock. The goose and turkey have very small
brains. But the disproportion of the brain compared with
the bulk of the body is most remarkable in the whole order
of coast-birds. These are the most savage, and the least
susceptible of being tamed. In the order of rapacious birds
the cerebral mass sensibly increases, especially amongst
the falcons ; this increase, however, 1s most manifest in the
night birds of prey, whose heads are very large.
The following is a scale of the size of the brain com-
pared with the bulk of the body, in some birds and mammalia.
On examining this list it will be seen that the most intelli-
gent of the larger animals have not so large a brain as we
should expect. In truth, it will be found that the degree of
_ intelligence is not always in proportion to the cerebral mass.
The brain of the canary is equal in bulk to 1-14th of the
body; barn-cock, 1-25th; sparrow, 1-25th; chaffinch, 1-27th;
robin, 1-32nd; blackbird, 1-68th; duck, 1-256th; eagle,
t-260th; goose, 1-360th. In man the brain varies from
go THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS
1-22nd of the body to 1-32nd; the higher apes, 1-30th;
cat, 1-94th; the dog, 1-161st; the horse, 1-400th ; and the
elephant, 1-50oth.
Few animals have the brain more developed than the
parrots. The cerebral mass of the graminivorous and the
insectivorous birds is, in proportion to the weight of the
body, as great as that of man. It is easily understood,
then, that intelligence may not be so rare among birds as
some have supposed. They are certainly much superior to
many of the insectivora, the kangaroos, the bats, the
rodentia, and to most of the ruminants.
We are often greatly at fault when we study animals.
We always wish to.compare their organisation with ours.
We say they are less perfect than we are, because such and
such organs are less developed in them than in us; this is
a great error. Each creature is perfect with regard to its
kind, or the requirements of its state of existence, and
often possesses much which another wants. Thus, birds are
admirably endowed with the sense of sight. It is supposed
that there is a direct correspondence between the extent of
vision and the rapidity of flight. The eagle, hawk, vulture,
and all the other birds of prey, with the exception of the
night birds, survey an horizon much more extensive than
man can.
“The martin,” said Belon, “ perceives a gnat distinctly at
the distance of five hundred yards, darts upon it, and carries
it off in the twinkling of an eye, with unequalled dexterity.
The kite, which hovers in the air, far beyond our sight,
easily perceives a dead fish floating on the surface of
the water, or the imprudent field-mouse just coming out of
its hole.”
Birds, surveying with a single glance a considerable
BIRDS. gI
extent of country, are often obliged to adapt their powers of
sight, according to the position in which they find them-
selves, either on the earth or in the air. ‘Their eyes are
naturally long-sighted, except those of the aquatic birds,
and the crystalline lens is more flattened than in the
mammalia. To enable them to see from a great distance
they possess a particular organ, enabling them to give the
eye a high telescopic power. The bird’s eye is, in fact, a
self-adjusting telescope, which can also become a micro-
scope. ‘The bird has a third eyelid, which, acting between
the other two, covers the ball of the eye, and moves over it
incessantly, to keep it clean and brilliant like an eye-glass ;
this lid serves also for a curtain against the dazzling rays of
light. It is probable that an eye so well organised is
admirably adapted to the wants of birds in their periodical —
voyages to far-off countries. This third eyelid is called the
nictating membrane, is semi-transparent, and, when not in
use, is neatly folded up in the inner corner of the eye. It
is rapidly drawn across the eye by two muscles, and returns
to the resting-place by its own elastic action. The tele-
scopic power of the vulture’s eye was shown by actual
experiment a few years ago. Some naturalists stuffed the
dried skin of a deer with hay and left it on a prairie; in a
short time a number of black specks were seen far up in the
sky; these became larger and larger, and at length were found
to be a troop of vultures rapidly descending towards the
spot where the stuffed deer lay. The birds at length
alighted, approached the skin, and struck their beaks into
the leathery substance. After hovering about for some
considerable time, apparently in great astonishment, the vul-
tures flew off slowly and sadly. Now it seems clear that,
in this case, the birds must have seen the stuffed deer-skin
Q2 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS. 5
from a height in the air at which they were invisible to
the human eye. Smell could have had nothing to do with
the result.
Next to the sight, hearing appears to be the second
sense of birds—that is to say, second in perfection. Hear-
ing is not only more perfect than the smell, taste, and touch
of birds, but even more perfect than the hearing of quad-
rupeds. We see this proved by the readiness with which
some birds repeat a long succession of sounds, and even of
words. It happened that we took away a nest of sparrows
from beneath the roof of a cottage, and placed it on a
balcony, before the young were old enough to call for their
parents. ‘The father and mother did not, in this case,
recognise their nest by sight; but in another experiment,
when the little ones were able to call out, the parents dis-
tinguished their voices, and brought them food. Here the
sense of hearing exceeded that of sight. Many birds are
accused of being completely deaf, especially those having
large bills. But we all know that such birds possess voices ;
were they deaf, they would necessarily be dumb. We have
seen that there is a correspondence between the sense of
seeing and the rapidity of flight; the same harmony also
exists between the organs of speech and hearing in all
animals, especially birds. The sense of touch also belongs
to birds. Buffon says that they have more feeling than
quadrupeds, that the sense of touch in their claws is strong,
as they continually use them for grasping. Nevertheless,
he adds that the inside of a bird’s claw being always lined
with a hard, callous skin, the touch cannot be very delicate,
nor the sensations which it produces acute.
Birds are certainly not creatures of taste. Dame
Nature would have it so, and with good reason. If these
BIRDS. 93
animals, destined to produce an amount of heat superior
to ours, had been gifted with delicate palates, they would
have been too fastidious for their proper food, and would
never have eaten enough to keep up a suitable degree of
temperature.
Birds do not masticate, but swallow their food unchewed.
This matters little to them, for the horny nature of most of their
tongues unfits them for tasting. But many birds show much
skill in the use of their wonderfully formed tongues. The
humming-bird turns the organ into an admirable pump, by
which it sucks up the juices of flowers; and the woodpeckers
use their tongues as darts to transfix insects. ‘These birds
are compelled to employ a complex machinery of small
bones, by which the tongue is lengthened and directed on
the prey.
The sense of smelling does not appear to be well
developed amongst birds, a great number of them having
no nostrils—that is to say, no open tubes on the beak, so
that they cannot smell, except by means of the interior cleft
in the mouth. Those which are furnished with nostrils
enjoy a more highly developed sense of smelling than the
others ; nevertheless, the olfactory nerves are proportionally
smaller, less numerous, and less extensive than in quadru-
peds. Some have been tempted to explain by the sense of
smell, certain singular faculties in birds. Indeed, how else
can we account, say they, for the marvellous return of the
carrier-pigeon, which is taken in a close vessel from its native
home to a distance of three hundred miles, across countries
quite unknown, and which, as soon as liberated, has no
difficulty in returning to its home? MHowcan we explain
the fact of a messenger-pigeon, which, being sent from
Toulouse in a covered basket, when set at liberty, knew
94 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
perfectly well how to return to the place of its departure ?
Is it to one of the senses, or to a peculiar intelligence that
we must attribute this faculty? Assuredly it is not due to
hearing, to touch, nor to taste. Is it due to the sense of
sight or smelling? There may be doubts as to the pigeon
shut up in the basket, but as to the one which was carried
in a close vase, it is evident that the poor winged animal,
had it the scent of a dog, would never have been able to
return direct home by the aid ofits nose. The phenomena
cannot be otherwise explained than by the general sensi-
bility of the bird. Launched in the atmosphere, it follows
the direction of its sensations, and knows what route must
be taken to reach the north
or the south. Its sensibility
serves for a compass, and also
_ for a thermometer.
A cartrier-pigeon taken out
by the Arctic discoverer, Sir
John Ross, in 1850, from its
dovecot in Scotland, was let
loose at Wellington Sound,
“he Soe eae within the Arctic circle, on
for Herne: October 6th, and reached its
former home in Ayrshire in
seven days, having flown two thousand miles across the
Atlantic. No one will venture to assert that the pigeon
could see its distant dovecot through two thousand miles of
atmosphere. Such marvellous feats performed by birds
cannot be explained by “ our philosophy.”
Toussenel cites an example of a goldfinch that every
week quitted its native town, situated in Picardy, for Paris,
Carrying a notice to prepare its master’s apartments.
BIRDS. 95
With a large brain birds could not hover lightly and
easily in the air. It could not be expected, then, that this
organ should have the same development as the organs of
locomotion. What a bird requires is moving power; and
for this it is beautifully adapted, by its muscular and nervous
system.
By the aid of the microscope anatomists have discovered
in the brain and marrow many kinds of little cells. Some
affect the functions of sensibility, others of motion ; the
latter being complex and much larger than the others, and
serving especially for muscular contraction. We observe,
then, that these are, in proportion, more numerous in the
bird than in other vertebrated animals, and this is evidently
the cause of their rapid locomotion. ‘The bird may lose in
intelligence what it gains in motive power ; but its destiny
is to fly, and therefore it has wings and high muscular
enersy—
** Wings ! to bear me over
Mountain and vale away 3
Wings to soar above the sea
In morning’s sunny ray.”
“ Nature,” said Buffon, “in giving wings to birds, has
bestowed upon them the attributes of independence and the
means of perfect liberty. Thus no other home but the
sky is suitable to them. They foresee the vicissitudes and
changes of climate, in anticipating the seasons ; they do not
settle in any place till they have assured themselves of the
temperature. Most arrive only when the soft breath of
spring has clothed the forests with verdure; when it has
drawn forth the fruits necessary for their nourishmerft ; when
they can settle, take shelter, and conceal themselves in the
shade; and when, Nature developing the power of love,
5 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
heaven and earth seem to combine for their pleasure and
happiness.”
As nothing is imperfect in the formation of a living crea-
ture, everything being adapted to its condition and the end
it has to attain, so the structure of a bird presents a light
yy ya
Ve
| htt
Lid
The Goldfinch giving notice of his Master’s arrival.
frame. Destined to live in the air, it must have less weight
than the fish which is supported in the water, or the mam-
malia which mostly pass their lives on the land. All has
been so wonderfully foreseen and calculated, that, as the
birds advance in age, gaining form and bulk, the bones
become lighter and more cell-like, enabling them to take
BIRDS, 97
more alr into the interior, so that the atmosphere, which is
the element most essential to the bird, penetrates nearly
every part of its body, and enables the creature, above all
others, to inhale the most oxygen. Microscopic investiga-
tions have demonstrated that the cells in the bones of some
birds measure but 1-5oooth of an inch in diameter. The
tubes in the bones, called the Haversian canals, from their
discoverer, Mr. Clapton Havers, are also both numerous and
minute. We know that in the mammalia there is between
the pulmonary and abdominal regions a division called the
diaphragm ; this division limits, in some degree, the expan-
sion of the lungs. In birds, on the contrary, the membrane
is open, porous, and small, affording a free passage to the
inhaled air. This air, penetrating into all the cavities, fills
the little cells, which, pressed by the muscles, perform the
office of bellows, and promote the work of respiration. It
results from this peculiar structure, that the blood, thus
heated and rendered more fluid and exciting by the oxygen,
gives to the movements of birds that quickness of action, °
that joyous impetuosity and lightness which charm us. This
supply of air also enables them to extend the vibrations of
the voice. This air carries life, health, and activity into the
feathers, and thus these inhabitants of the atmosphere lose
much of their relative weight. It is not, however, true that
all birds thus diminish the weight of their bodies by filling
the cavities of the bones with air. Dr. Crisp examined
many skeletons in order to ascertain the truth in this
matter, and found that, out of fifty-two species of British
birds, only one was so formed as to admit air into its bones.
This was the sparrow-hawk. Many of those which had no
air-cells were birds of rapid flight. The skill and energy
with which the bird strikes the air with its wings, end the
H
98 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
peculiar angle at which these act, have more influence on
power of flight than the air-cell. Few birds can justly be
called “feathered balloons,” as some naturalists have ven.
tured to write. The condor of the Andes is able to support
its vast body at the height of 20,000 feet above the sea,
where the atmosphere is so rarefied that the barometer falls
to fourteen inches.
This abundant supply of oxygen gives to birds a
degree of heat which manifests itself in all their actions.
The temperature of man does not go beyond 98°; in
some birds it rises to 107°. Add to this elevation of
temperature a heart provided, like man’s, with four cavities,
and you will be able to understand how the bird glows
with the fire of life; how it can face the most severe
winters ; how, by aid of the air, which penetrates, warms,
and dilates the organs, the bird can become lighter when
occasion requires. The feathers, also, so well fitted to
preserve this heat, assist in raising the creature to the
higher regions, where the tyranny of man cannot reach.
_ This warmer blood of birds renders them more sensitive,
lively, and ardent. They seem always agitated, excited,
and restless, sleeping but little. They have also the faults
‘of this temperament, being fickle, inconstant, irascible,
impetuous, and unreflecting. Their lively impressions want
depth ; they feel rather than think. To instruct them it is
necessary to isolate them, to deprive them of light, and
keep them inacage: The loss of their liberty is the only
means by which they can be made to reflect. It is also
necessary to choose the evening for teaching them. At
this hour they are not excited by the light; the shades of
night oblige them to be quiet ; they are more attentive and
better able to retain the air or words we wish them to repeat.
BIRDS. > 99
Bird-catchers, and those who sell birds, sometimes
destroy the eyes of nightingales and other singing-birds
to improve their voices. It appears that these poor little
creatures, deprived of sight, utter most melodious and
touching sounds—for which reason some persons compare
them to Homer and Milton. The singing of birds! Is it
not a convincing proof of their intellizence? We hear a
sparrow, a lark, a nightingale, a tomtit—we distinguish
them easily, and recognise each by the modulations of
the voice. Perhaps you will say that they sing thus natu-
rally and instinctively, that they have never been taught
and do not know what they say, and that there is nothing
of feeling or intelligence in these vocal manifestations.
Let us remark, first of all, that in every species each
individual seems to make himself understood by the others.
Every sound of the voice has a particular signification,
which serves as a means of communication. If it were
otherwise, how could those that live in companies under-
stand one another? How could they construct those nests
which are so complicated and so artistically arranged? How,
in these works of architecture, would each have his task ?
All work in common necessitates a mutual understanding.
Let us now speak of the birds of passage. When they
are about to pass from one climate to another, do they not
assemble together? To hear them, one would say it was
a legislative assembly, where each speaks in turn, giving
his opinion and his advice in the decision which is to be
taken. During the journey, the. emigrants, according to
their authority or rank in the assembly, continue to make
themselves heard, regulating the swiftness of the flight, so
that those more feeble can follow the stronger, and recalling
the wanderers. .
H 2
£00 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
Birds manifest most feeling, sentiment, and poetry in
their language during the spring-time of life. Is it not the
power of love—that sublime exaltation of the heart, that
strong impulse of our being—which renders the most feeble
strong, the most simple intel-
ligent, and carries the sacred
fire into the imagination of
the dullest mind? Love is
winged. The bird is all wing
and all tenderness. With the
joyousness of his songs, his
sweet warblings, and the trem-
bling of his wings, he comes
SS
Wa
The Ostrich burying her Eggs in the Sand.
to reproach us with our falsehood, our coldness, our mean
selfishness, our miserable calculations, and our broken
faith. He enters our dwellings, establishes himself in our
gardens, instals himself under our roofs, to repeat to us,
from morning till evening, “ Love, love, love ; you must love-
BIRDS, 101
each other; you must always love each other.” But we
have neither the intelligence nor strength of feeling to
love each other as we ought.
It is also in the spring that birds have their most beau-
tiful dress and their brightest colours.
Reviving Nature gives to animals festive dresses ; to the
mammalia a more silky coat; to the reptiles scales of a
more brilliant hue; to the birds most beautiful feathers.
She nourishes the insect in the larva state, and reproduces
it in the form of a gay butterfly, so that it is not only
the corolla of plants that displays brilliant and variegated
colours.
The female, among birds, surpasses in intelligence the
females of other animals. She is more considerate, more
reflecting, and more provident. She chooses the situation
for the nest, and knows how to. modify it according to
necessity and climate. The female ostrich buries in the
funnel of sand, where the little ones are to be hatched a
certain number of eggs for their first nourishment.
In the Levant, a tomtit sewed together, with the aid of
her beak and some thread, two leaves of a shrub, and estab-
lished her family in this pocket of her own invention. All
the perfections of a nest seem due to the intelligence of the
female; the males being only admitted into this important
construction as workmen. With certain birds, who live in
pairs, a few of the males join in the task of incubation, as
among the wood-pigeons, turtle-doves, and storks. Those
who have not seen, says Toussenel, the turkey hen, the
partridge, or duck defend their little ones, can have but
a moderate idea of their heroism. A man who should
display but once {n the course of his career, as a citizen
and patriot, a tenth part of the devotion that these poor
LO02 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
creatures manifest continually, to secure the safety of a
successful hatching, would have places of honour during his
life, and statues after his death. A partridge who trails her
wing, and pretends to be wounded in sight of the dog, and
flies in his face to tear
out his eyes; a magpie
who puts to flight, by
the violence of her re-
sistance, the young
spoiler of her nest; the
swan which will not
allow a party to drink
of the water belonging
to her little ones—all
these poor mothers,
whose existence is but
a long series of heroic
acts and devotion, would
scarcely understand our
admiration for the
Athenian Codrus, or the
Roman Curtius! The
trée sparrow (Accentor
modularis), you say, 1S
unbearable with always
the same note; it is not a song at all, only achirp. But,
listen to him in the spring! The joyous bridegroom sings
like a master. Love has made him a poet; it is no longer
tne careless pupil, always repeating the same note; it is a
musician, who attempts the most difficult passages. He
gives his ‘‘do, re, mi,” from the chest. He knows that
to persuade he must be eloquent. He becomes so.
ay
in \
ALA, Ss
ane
a \
SI
BIRDS. 103
No sooner is the common house sparrow occupied in
constructing the nest, than a new sentiment manifests itself
in him—the love of offspring. He must think of providing
a shelter for his little ones. This occupation makes even
this sparrow a little thoughtful, but, no sooner has he picked
up the first blade of straw than he is filled with joy. He
returns a hundred times a day, carrying building material
in his beak ; he chirps, as if he were pleased with himself,
flies back again, returns to the meadows, goes, comes, and
so on all day long, looking, without appearing to do so, to
see if any one is at the window, or if there are enemies
behind the curtain. The sparrow is better able to see
you than you are to conceal yourself. Beneath the roof of
our cottage were ten sparrows’ nests, certainly not master-
pieces ; the work was rough, the materials common, and
the dimensions absurd. ‘These nests are like sign-boards ;
one would imagine the birds wished us to be deemed straw-
merchants. But what signifies? We would not prevent
them building their nests on the house, but, as we were not
in the habit of wearing helmets, we feared the misfortune
that befel Tobias. For you know the sparrow is not very
cleanly. “He is also,” says Toussenel, “‘ quarrelsome, a
chatterer, tippler, jeerer, plunderer, babbler, impudent,
familiar, riotous, and obstinate. Finally, he is driven, by
incessant want to scorn the authority of and mystify the
landlord. One bird was untidy enough to soil my sleeve
with a piece.of mortar he had detached from the eaves. I
immediately sent for a joiner, telling him to cover every hole
with boards, and employ all his ingenuity to prevent the
smallest sparrow from penetrating any of the crevices to build
his nest. ‘The joiner worked all day against these volatile
anarchists. Three daysafter the birds, by exploring the roof,
IO4 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
by examining and watching, and by striking the planks with
their beaks, had defeated the skill and precaution of my
joiner. Then I sent for a mason, and begged him to stop
up the smallest holes with plaster. I afterwards watched at-
tentively myself, determined not to be played with again by
those rogues of sparrows.
I was soon convinced
that it was impossible to
baffle their skill when
determined on nest-
building. Two sparrows,
more clear-sighted than
the rest, in spite of all
the precautions I had
taken, and notwithstand-
ing my constant presence
at the window, were able
to find a place for nests.
They succeeded so well
in penetrate ethic
boards, that my own
contrivance had enabled
them to construct a snug
dwelling, well-sheltered
The Bird detaching a piece of the Mortar. from the weather, and
far out of my reach. I
acknowledged myself completely vanquished, and left them
in peace. I was, however, recompensed for my forbearance,
by being witness of a very touching scene. When the little
ones were able to come out of the nest, being perched up
so high, one of them tumbled on to the balcony and hurt
itself, so that it could not fly.
BIRDS. 105
“Then all the sparrows, from the neighbouring trees and
hedge, from the oldest to the youngest, came on to the
balcony, bringing to the poor little fellow, in their bills, the
tenderest consolation. The young ones came while I was
present, the old ones, more experienced and crafty, knew
perfectly well at what time in the day I was absent, and did
not fail to come and counsel the poor disabled bird. This
lasted three days and nights, during which my sparrow re-
tired on a chair to the corner of the balcony, slept peace-
ably, having at his side two other large-jolly fellows, to serve
as sentinels. On the fourth day the little wounded one
departed, joyous as a boy returning from school.”
Lacépéde believed he could determine the amount of
sensibility in birds by their constancy, and the great care
they bestow upon the females and little ones, and he pro-
poses the following distinctions, beginning with the lowest
degree in the scale.
1st Class.—Birds whose males forsake the females be-
fore they are occupied in preparing the nest.
2nd Class.—'Those which leave the females while they
are occupied in preparing the nest.
3rd Class.—Those which assist the female in the build-
ing of the nest.
4th Class.—Those which guard and protect the females
during incubation, bringing them food, and singing beside
the nest. |
5th Class.—Those which assist the females in the in-
cubation.
6¢4 Class.—Those which take part with the female in
rearing her young.
7th Class.—Those that prepare, in their crops, the food
for their little ones.
106 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
8th Class.—Those which live with their young, helping
and defending them until able to take care of them-
selves.
He estimated also the amount of industry, according to
—the greater or less degree of perfection to which birds attain
in the building of their nests. These last qualities, added to
the degrees of sensibility, serve to distinguish the superior
birds, which are thus classed :—
1st C/ass.—Birds which do not build nests, but take
possession of another's. 4
2nd Class.—Those which compose their nests of rude
materials, and join them without care.
3ra Class —Those whose nests are formed with materials
chosen after examination, prepared with care, and brought
from afar.
4th Class.—Those which build nests with materials
twined and woven together, with marvellous skill.
5th Class.—Those showing particular research, attention,
and discernment, in placing their nests in the most con-
venient position at the extremity of a branch, or under the
leaves, to preserve their little ones from danger.
6th Class.—Those whose nests have a narrow entrance,
an awning, winding entrances, and several compartments.
4th Class.—Those which join with other couples, and
build their nests in close proximity, to receive several
families.
8th Class.—Lastly, those which form a numerous society,
whose nests are covered with a common covering, due to a
combination of good-will, resource, and skill.
To establish a fair comparison between the species noted
for industry and sensibility, we must observe the results of
those two faculties in reference to the changes of climate,
BIRDS. 107
the elevation of the temperature during hatching, the solitude
of the nest, the number of enemies, the power of defence,
the swiftness of flight, and the form of the beak and claws,
as instruments with which the bird can gather, prepare, and
arrange the materials for the nest.
For the brain to act vigorously, the blood, which stimu-
lates and vivifies it, must be pure, and have a certain ele-
vation of temperature and activity of circulation. Birds
have these qualifications, and this is the reason that,
notwithstanding the smallness of their brains in general,
they are susceptible of great feeling, and have, at the
same time, real intelligence. A creature with warm
blood usually possesses a generous heart, is active and
intelligent.
Eloquence amongst men is often mixed with vanity, or
a desire to appear clever, a wish to persuade, that they may
rule and sometimes tyrannise over others. With birds,
eloquence is a sign of tenderness and affection. I approach
a nest, the mother flies away, raising cries of distress; she
alhizhts on some neighbouring tree and sings at the highest
pitch of her voice, to draw my attention and attract me
towards herself, that I may leave the path near her family.
I take one of her little ones; the song changes, the sound
-is more melancholy, and the sentiment of sadness is con-
veyed by a different language.
Birds possess a common language ; but when they are in
love they must express their passion, and even add rhythm
and intonation. ‘They are poets of all kinds! Some adopt
the trivial style, their songs are short but noisy. In this
manner crows the cock on the dunghill, in the midst of the
hens. The chaffinch has a more elevated poetry. The
lark while soaring in the air, sings a hymn on the beauties
108 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
of nature. The nightingale overcomes the greatest diffi-
culties both in poetry and singing.
Dupont was asked how one could learn the languages
of animals, and from it form an idea of their feelings. He
replied that the first step towards success was to carefully
observe the animals, and remark if the sounds uttered
seemed to have a meaning amongst themselves.
When we live familiarly with animals, if they are the
least susceptible, it is impossible not to be convinced that
they have a language. There is passion in the song of birds,
but it is combined with intelligence. Toussenel, who occu-
pied himself with much perseverance and success in noting
the expression of emotion, proves that the most intelligent
birds are those which sing best, and whose sojourn is near
to man. “Song,” said he, ‘‘the perfume of the soul, and
privileged language of tender hearts, not only suggests
the past, but is also the special joy of the present hour.
The song of birds carries praise from earth to heaven,
acknowledges the goodness of the Creator, and is gratitude
poured forth in melody.”
The vulgar make a great mistake in thinking the female
has no voice. In her infancy she has, lke her brothers,
gone through a course of vocal music, and she must have a
certain knowledge of music to enjoy the charming songs
that are sung to her day by day. The females express
themselves perfectly in passionate language, when the fancy
takes them, or when they are condemned to solitude.
Everybody has had the opportunity of seeing, in some
luumble dwelling, a poor little canary which tries to pass the
weary hours away by singing, but very quickly gives up this
sad employment of her time when she becomes the mother
of a family. So, a young lady devoted to the piano before
BIRDS. 109
her marriage, often neglects it afterwards. As the male
excels the female in strength, vigour, and brightness of
plumage, it is natural that she should be much superior in
grace and intelligence, distinguished by a more slender and
delicate form, finer sinews, and more flexible beak and
claws ; and to her, also, nature has given the charge of the
most artistic and most important domestic functions, which
comprehend the building of the nest and the education of
the family.
Johnson, in an article in his “Idler,” said: “Many na-
turalists believe that animals, regarded as dumb by the
uneducated, have the faculty of communicating their ideas
one to another. That they express general sensations is
quite certain. Each being who can make any sound, has a
different voice for pleasure or for pain. ‘The hound warns
his companions when he scents the game; the hen, by her
clucking, calls her young chickens around her for their food,
and recalls them from danger by her cries.” Birds possess
the greatest variety of notes. This truth would certainly be
sufficient on which to compose a discourse, if we wished to
do so. Superstition or curiosity has always shown itself
attentive to the cries of birds, as well as to their flight.
Many men have studied the language of the feathered tribes,
and some boast of understanding it. Naturalists have dis-
puted whether the peculiar song of each kind of bird was
an innate gift or an acquired faculty. Dr. Gall, a dis-
tinguished observer, is said to have taken a nightingale and
isolated it from its companions. “ The bird,” said he, ‘did
not sing the less on that account, and knew the scale of
notes peculiar to his family.” This bird, then, must have
had his music in himself. Some facts, however, seem to
contradict this. Barrington took from a nest a common
be co) THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
sparrow already fledged. He put it to school, if one may
use the expression, with a singing-master, who was a linnet.
The sparrow profited by the lessons of his teacher; but,
by chance, the pupil heard a goldfinch, and his song soon
became a mixture of the sounds of the two birds. This
same experimenter put a robin under the tuition of a night-
ingale, the latter, however, soon lost its voice, and became
perfectly mute in less than a fortnight. Nevertheless, the
young robin sang three out of four parts in the tune of the
nightingale, and the rest of his song was what bird-fanciers
call unconnected—that is to say, in no fixed key. These
experiments are very interesting, because they prove that
all beings have a language peculiar to their organisation ;
a language of instinct, and also an acquired language, con-
nected with their education and intelligence. The mistake
that some make in studying the song of birds is, that they
expect to find in their vocal expression an echo of human
ideas and sentiments. The song of birds is certainly a
language ; but it is a language peculiar to themselves, which
corresponds with their organisation, their habits, and mode
of life.
THE Toots OF THE Brrps.—An excellent implement,
which varies with the different orders of animals, serves as a
tool for the brain. -In man it is the hand. This organ, of
such marvellous construction, is evidently designed to serve
the finest thought and the most elevated intellect. By
means of this, man can weigh, measure, design, translate
his thoughts, and give to his conceptions a form as readily
as he can express his ideas by words. This hand, which
characterises so well the superior intellect of man, differs
from the paw, which is the corresponding organ in beasts,
by the position of the thumb and the other fingers. The
a
BIRDS. Iii
power of seizing, which is the beginning of manual skill,
implies the opposition of the thumb with the fingers. he
The foot of the bird is the best instrument of its
intellect, and the more perfect this member is, the more it
approaches the hand of man, and indicates a developed
brain and intellect in the bird.
| Thus the foot of a water-fowl, which is the least intelli-
gent of the winged animals, is most unlike the hand of a
man. ‘The thumb, when there is one, has a direct position
like the fingers; it thus has a tendency to separate from the
fingers instead of joining them. ‘The foot of the water-
fowl is not adapted for grasping ; very few species of this
order can perch. With the’marsh birds the power of grasp-
ing becomes less rare; one, indeed, is endowed with the
ability of seizing, like the parrot and birds of prey. Others
use their feet as weapons, like the game cock and the emu
of Australia, which is said to be able to break a man’s leg
by a blow with its foot. However, the direct plan of
thumb and finger is the general rule for web-footed and
stilted birds. With birds of the poultry kind, or gallinaceous
order, the rule is not the same. About three-fourths of
those are able to perch, an act which implies that of grasp-
ing, and also of opposition between the front and back part
of the foot ; those birds use this power only to seek a refuge
from their enemies, and to roost for the night.
Some of the species use their feet for striking, and many
for scratching the soil; as, for instance, the hen, and all of
that family. There are some that do more, even raising
little hillocks of earth by the strength of their feet. Others
collect grass and heap it together to make places for hatch-
ing, thus considerably extending the functions of their claws,
Nor must we forget the powerful tools provided in the
1 7
I1i2 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
diversified beaks of birds. The wide opening bill acts as
a net to catch insects; the suctorial beak of the sun bird is
a pump; the finches and crows have a pick-axe and berry-
cracker in their cone-shaped bills; those of the butcher
birds form tenacious gripping machines; and the beak of
the parrot is a hand.
Thus the skilful use of the beak and foot, and the near
approach of the latter to a hand, show the degree of intel-
ligence in birds. The parrot is the most intelligent of
the flying birds, and possesses in the foot a superior
hand, lke that of the monkey, or of man—a hand
which conveys food to the mouth. The clever author of
the “World of Birds” asserts that the intelligence of the
parrot is in direct connection with the perfection of its foot.
“The faculties of the parrot,” says he, “are in proportion
to its manual skill. The capacity of the brain is greater
than in any other bird. The beak, which answers the
purpose of a third hand, and of which the two mandibles
are movable, is the most perfect of all the organs of this
kind. Its propensity to imitate man and speak his language,
its prodigious memory, aptitude for learning, taste for fruits,
and longevity, make its superiority undeniable.” Let us,
then, commence the particular study of the intelligence of
birds, with the parrot.
THE PARROT.
THE intelligence of the parrot is misunderstood. According
to vulgar prejudice this bird’ is nothing better than a
chatterer, a senseless creature, an animal without an idea of
its own, and destitute of all judgment. Nevertheless, the
parrots occupy among the birds the rank which quadrumana
hold in the class of mammalia. The brain is more developed
than in other feathered creatures, and, as we have already
- shown, we find in them intellectual manifestations. Buffon,
who so unwillingly admits intelligence in animals, has, in
his chapter on parrots, discoursed at some length on the
question of their intellectual faculties. ‘These birds,” he
_ says, “‘which have every facility for talking, are deficient in
that intelligence which aids the high faculty of language.
They are deprived of this, like all other animals, by their
rapid development in early life, and by the short duration of
their intercourse with their parents, whose cares are limited
to their bodily education, and are not continued long enough
to produce any durable or reciprocal impressions, or to
establish family union, the first element of all society, and
one great source of all intelligence.” It is certain that all
social relations assist the development of intellect ; but,
above all, to become intelligent it is necessary to have a
well-organised brain, and we must not expect in creatures,
whose cerebral organs differ from ours, intellectual mani-
festations equal to our own. Again, although animals have
not the same intelligence as we have, yet some organs are
I
Iit4 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
more perfect than ours; they are not, then, so very unlike
us; and we, like them, are animals.
Buffon s-ys that the faculty of imitating our speech and
gestures does not give any pre-eminence to animals which
are endowed with this natural talent. According to Buffon,
the monkey which gesticulates, and the parrot which repeats
our words, are not capable of becoming more intelligent,
and of improving their species. ‘This talent, indeed, serves
to render the parrot more interesting, but does not give
him any superiority over other birds, excepting that, pos-
sessing more than others the power of imitating speech,
he must have the sense of hearing and the organs of the
voice more like those of man. This power, which the parrot
eminently possesses, is found in some degree in many other
birds whose tongues are thick, round, and almost the same
in form as that of the parrot. Starlings, blackbirds, jays,
and jackdaws can imitate natural sounds. Those which
have the tongue forked, like most of our small birds, whistle
more easily than they chatter. Those in whom this natural
organization for whistling is united with an acute sense of
hearing and strong memory, learn easily to repeat airs and
whistle musically. The canary, linnet, siskin, and bullfinch
seem to be musicians by nature.
If any animal, the parrot for example, has the brain and
senses more developed than other creatures, it will be more
intelligent than other animals, and the intelligence will be
susceptible of some improvement, according to the educa-
tion it receives, and the passions which are more or less
called into play. Beings which have the faculties of feeling,
of remembering their sensations, of expressing them in a
language more or less developed, but always in harmony
with their joys, sorrows, anger, or passion, must they not be
THE PARROT. : 115
intelligent? Buffon says, “ The parrot, either from a
defect in his organs, or from a want of memory, can
only utter cries or short phrases, and can neither sing
nor repeat modulated sounds. Nevertheless, it imitates all
the noises it hears, the mewing of cats, the barking of
dogs, and the cries of birds, as easily as it counterfeits
speech. It can articulate sounds, but cannot modulate or
sustain them by cadences. This proves that it has less
memory, less flexibility of the organs, and a throat as dry
and rough as that of the singing birds is soft and tender.”
The parrot, however, is not deficient in memory; it re-
collects the voices of many animals, and counterfeits them.
The parrot, not having a brain so fully developed as that of
man, does not possess our intellectual faculties, much less
our language ; but he has his own, which agrees perfectly
with his organization. Buffon adds, “We must distinguish
between two sorts of imitation—the one reflective, the other
mechanical, and without intention ; the former is acquired,
the latter, so to speak, is innate. This is but the result of
common instinct, by which all seem to be induced or con-
strained to do the same thing. The more stupid animals
are the more perfect in this imitation. A sheep always does,
and ever will do, only what is done by the other sheep; the
last cell of a bee exactly resembles the first. The entire
species has no more sense than a single individual, and in
this consists the difference between intellect and instinct.
Natural imitation is, in every species, but the result of a
blind necessity.” Undoubtedly, every being in each species
having a like organization, is driven by this organization to
similar manifestations; but what is not less certain is the
fact that with birds, as in every other kind of animals, there
are some which have a superior organization and more in-
ey:
116 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
telligence. It is this which enables the bees to modify the
arrangements of their cells according to their necessities.
Acquired imitation, according to Buffon, does not ex-
tend to the species, nor can it be communicated to them ; it
belongs only to the individual who receives and possesses,
without the power to impart.
The best instructed parrot could not transmit the talent
of speech to its young ones. All imitative power com-
municated to animals by art, or by the care of man, rests
with the individuals, and although this imitation may be
entirely dependent on the organisation, it supposes the ex-
istence of some peculiar intelligence, sensibility, attention,
and memory. Animals capable of this power of imitation,
of receiving lasting impressions, and some education on the
part of man, are distinguished in the orders of organised
beings. If this education is easily imparted by man to
every individual of the kind, as the dog for instance, the
species really becomes superior to that of other animals, so
long as its relationship with man continues. The dog, left
to its own nature, falls back to the level of the fox or wolf,
and cannot of itself rise.
It is with animals as with man, acquired talent cannot
be transmitted. It is organisation and mental aptitudes
which may be inherited.
A father, naturally clever as a mathematician, teaches his
son mathematics ; the latter does not transmit the science
to his son unless the child has a disposition for this study
and a favourable structure of the organs. We -are con-
vinced that the talent of imitation acquired by animals
cannot be transmitted, although it may draw out certain
dispositions.
The talent for mimicry acquired by some animals
THE PARROT. 117
proves them to possess faculties which seem allied to
intelligence.
Montbard said that, in the scale of living beings, birds
should be placed in the first rank after man. Nature has
collected and concentrated in the small compass of their
bodies more power than she has imparted to the great mass
of stronger animals. She has given them more lightness,
without lessening at all the solidity of their organisation.
She has ceded to them an empire which extends over the
earth, the air, and the water. She has endowed them with
exclusive power over the whole race of insects, which seem
to exist chiefly to maintain and strengthen their destroyers,
by serving them for food. They even rule over the reptiles,
of which they nd the earth, without dreading their venom ;
over the fishes, which they drag from their element to
devour ; even over some quadrupeds, which are equally
their victims. We have seen the buzzard attack the fox ;
the hawk seize the gazelle; the eagle carry off the sheep,
attack the dog, as well as the hare, put them to death, and
carry them off to his eyrie. If we add to this pre-eminence
of power and quickness in birds other faculties which
approach to man’s nature, such as imitation of speech and —
musical memory, we shall see that they approach nearer to
us than their exterior form seems to indicate, while the sole
privilege of the attribute of wings, and the pre-eminence ot
flight over running, gives them a superiority over all the
terrestrial animals.
We will proceed to show this by facts.
THE COCKATOOS.
Tue largest parrots of the Old Continent are cockatoos.
These parrots learn to speak with difficulty. There are
some, indeed, which never talk at all, except, perhaps, to
x
2
By
—
SS
INS
The Cockatoo.
cry out “cockatoo,” from which sound they are named.
But do not think that those which chatter most are the
most intelligent. Cockatoos apply themselves very readily
to education, and are easily tamed. They have, it appears,
THE COCKATOOS, IIG
become domesticated in some parts of India, where they
make their nests on the roofs of the houses. ‘This facility
of education, according to Buffon, arises from the superiority
of their intelligence. They listen, hear, and obey better
than other parrots, but in vain they attempt to repeat what
is said to them. They make up for this defect by peculiar
expressions of sentiment and affectionate caresses, having
in all their movements a sweetness and grace, which add
still more to their beauty. Buffon relates that in the month
of March, 1775, he saw at the fair of St. Germain, two cocka-
toos, male and female, which obeyed with much docility,
either by displaying their crests, saluting persons by an in-
clination of the head, touching objects with their beak or
tongue, or replying to the questions of their master, with a
sign of assent, which expressed perfectly a mute affirmation.
They showed, also, by reiterated signs, the number of per- .
sons who were in the room, the hour of the day, and the
colours of dresses. ‘These parrots are easily distinguished
from others by their white plumage, by the beak being more
hooked and rounded, and especially by a crest of long
feathers with which their heads are adorned, and which
they raise or lower at pleasure.
JACKO,
(THE GREY PARROT.)
Tue kind of parrot most frequently brought into Europe is
the grey or ash-coloured. It is preferred as much for the
gentleness of its disposition as for its talent and docility.
It is often called Jacko because it usually pronounces that
name. The whole of its body is of a beautiful pearly, slate-
coloured grey, darker on the shoulders and lighter on the
body, becoming whiter at the belly; a tail of vermillion
terminates and relieves this glossy plumage, which has the
appearance of having been watered and powdered with
white, rendering it always fresh. The eyes are surrounded
by a naked, powdery, white skin, which covers the cheek.
The beak is black, the feet grey, and the iris of a golden
colour. The length entire of the bird is one foot.
The greater number of these parrots are brought to us
from the coast of Guinea, from the interior of that part of
Africa, and from Congo. ‘They are easily taught to speak,
and seem to prefer imitating the voices of children, and on
that account more easily receive their education from them.
It was remarked by the ancients that all birds capable of
imitating the human voice, listen more willingly to the
words of children, and render them more easily because
they are less strongly articulated, and by their ciear sounds
JACKO (THE GREY PARROT). 121
are more analogous to the power of the bird’s vocal organs.
Nevertheless, this grey parrot imitates the grave tones of
an adult voice; but this imitation seems somewhat difficult,
and the words which it pronounces in this voice are less
distinct. One of these parrots from Guinea, instructed on
the voyage by an old sailor, had caught up his hoarse voice
and cough most perfectly. Although the bird was after-
wards given to a young lady, and only heard her voice, he
did not forget the lessons of his first master; and it was
most amusing to hear him pass from a soft, pleasant voice,
to his hoarse and sailor-hke tone.
Not only has this bird the power of imitating the human
voice, but he seems to wish to do so. This is shown by his
attention in listening, and by the efforts he makes to repeat
every word. He will continue chattering without inter-
mission a few syllables just heard, and tries to drown all
voices by raising his own. We are often surprised at hear-
ing him repeat words or sounds that no one has taken the
trouble to teach him, and did not even suppose he had: lis-
tened to. For instance, there is the parrot of Henry VIILI.,
of which Aldrovand relates the story that, having fallen into
the Thamse, he called to his aid the boatmen, as he had
heard passengers call them from the shore. The Jacko
appears to set himself a task, and tries to remember his
lesson each day ; he is occupied with it even during sleep,
and Margrave says that the bird even chatters in his
dreams. It is in his earlier years that the parrot shows
this power, has most memory, and is found most intelligent
and docile. Sometimes this power of memory, when cul-
tivated early, becomes extraordinary. The parrot which a
cardinal bought for a hundred crowns of gold, could, it is
said, repeat correctly the Apostles’ Creed.
122 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
According to Buffon, Jacko, on awaking, becomes re-
bellious, and learns with difficulty. Olina advises that the
hour after the parrots’ evening repast should be chosen to
give them their lesson ; because, being then more satisfied,
they become more docile and attentive.
The education of a parrot has been compared to that of
a child; there would often be more sense, adds Buffon,
in comparing the education of the child to that of the
parrot.
Another very interesting question brought forward on the
subject of the parrot is, whether he can hear himself speak ?
Buffon’s sister, Madame Nadault, in a letter written to her
brother, affirms her .belief that her parrot when he spoke
did not recognise the voice as his own, but believed that
it was some one else speaking to him, and acted accord-
ingly. He had frequently been heard to ask himself for
his own claw, and never missed answering his question
by holding it out. Although very fond of the sound of
children’s voices, he showed great hatred to the children
themselves. He would chase them, and if he caught
them, pinch them till the blood flowed. As he had objects
of aversion, he had also others of great attachment ; his
taste, indeed, was not very fastidious, but it was persistent.
He loved the kitchen-maid most desperately ; followed
her everywhere ; sought her in the places where she was
most likely to be, and seldom in vain. If he had not seen
her for some time, he would climb on to her shoulder by
aid of his beak and claws, load her with caresses, and would
not again leave her, notwithstanding her efforts to get rid of
him. If at last she succeeded in disengaging herself, he was
after her again in an instant. His attachment had all the
marks of a most heartfelt friendship. This girl had a very
JACKO (THE GREY PARROT). 123
bad finger for some time, which was so painful as to cause.
her to cry out frequently. All the time she was suffering
the parrot would not leave her room, and showed his sym-
pathy by groaning himself as piteously as if he also were
suffering. Every day his first walk was to pay her a visit.
His tender interest in her continued as long as she remained
ill, As soon as she was better, he became easy ; but showed
the same affection, which never changed. However, his
excessive liking for this girl seemed to be caused by some-
thing in her work in the kitchen, rather than her person ;
for, having been replaced by another, the affection of the
parrot only changed its object, and seemed to be as great
for this new kitchen-maid, even from the first day; a proof
that her care and attention had not procured this attach-
ment.
We regret to record this latter trait; but if it prove a
want of fealty in Jacko, it does not affect his intelligence.
He was a clever flatterer, and knew well what could be ob-
tained from the servants by caresses. Who will dare to say
that Jacko was an imbecile? The talent of this species of
parrot, says Buffon, is not confined to imitation of speech;
they learn also to mimic certain gestures and movements.
Scaliger had seen one which imitated the dance of the
Savoyards while singing their song. He loved to hear
singing, and when he saw dancing, jumped about also but
with the worst grace in the world, holding his claws inwards,
and falling back heavily. This was his greatest delight.
Jacko has also been seen exhibiting foolish mirth; chat-
tering incessantly when tipsy, for all parrots love wine,
particularly sherry and muscadel.
Buffon, after having acknowledged the intelligence of
the parrot, says, “‘This burlesque of a language, without
124 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
ideas, is certainly very odd and grotesque; and, without
being more empty than many other discourses, is always
more amusing.” He relates the anecdote borrowed from
Clusius by Willoughby. It appears that a parrot, when
they said to it, “ Laugh, Polly, laugh,” laughed immediately
in good earnest, and the next moment called out, “Oh!
the great fool, to make me laugh.” Another; which had
grown old with his master, and shared with him the infirmi-
ties of age, being accustomed to hear but little more than
the words, “I am very ill,’ when asked, “What is the
matter, Polly—what is the matter?” answered, in a
dismal tone, stretching himself on the hearth, “I am
very ill.”
We find also in the annals of Constantine Manasses, a
Byzantine writer of the twelfth century, the story of the
young Prince Léon, son of the Emperor Basil, who was con-
demned to death by his cruel father, and though the latter
could not be moved to pity by the entreaties of those around
him, the accents of a bird which had been taught to lament
the death of the young prince, at last softened the barbarian’s
heart.
The language of the parrot is not destitute of ideas.
That this bird. cannot form, like us, a chain of reasoning is
true ; but to say that his language is without an idea is
impossible. When you ask a parrot if he has breakfasted,
he knows perfectly well how to answer you, if he has
satisfied his hunger. He will never tell you that he has
breakfasted when it is not the case; at least, you cannot
force him to say “no” when he ought to say “yes.”
Some young girls, in going to school, passed a house
where was a parrot; one of them had beautiful plaits of
hair falling over her shoulders. No doubt the parrot had
~,
JACKO (THE GREY PARROT). 125
heard them call this young girl “the belle with the plaited.
hair.” From that day, every time the child passed before
the parrot, without any one saying a word, he recognised
her and called her by that title. Evidently the sight of
the young girl and her hair recalled to the bird the idea
of “the belle with the plaits.” He never addressed this
compliment to any other person who passed.
One of the most celebrated talkers was a grey parrot
belonging to a Dennis O’Kelly, often called Colonel O’Kelly.
Not only could this extraordinary bird repeat a great number
of phrases, but he could reply to many questions. He also
whistled several airs, and marked the time most correctly.
His ear was so perfect, that if by chance he uttered a wrong
note he corrected himself and took up the measure at the
place where he had been interrupted. Was this simply from
memory? Was it not rather intelligence and the association
of ideas? This same parrot made known its wants by
words, and gave its orders in a tone which showed it was
endowed with judgment. ‘The bird is also said to have
sung the 104th Psalm, “The Banks of the Dee,” and “God
save the King.” This parrot had been bought for fifty
guineas ; it died in 1802.
Herbert has rendered justice to the wonderful faculty of
memory in this bird. ‘I have heard one,” he says, “sing
about fifty airs of different kinds, sacred psalms, comic and
vulgar songs, of which he articulated each word as distinctly
as any well-exercised human voice could have done. When
he was moulting, and not in the humour to sing, he replied
to all solicitations by turning his back and repeating several
times, “ Polly is ill.” Mr. Jesse mentions a -parrot which,
when pleased, would laugh most heartily, and then cry out,
“Don’t make me laugh so; I shall die, I shall die.” The
~~
126 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
bird would also mimic sobbing, and exclaim, “So bad, so
bad ; got such acold.” If any one happened to cough, ve
parrot would remark, “‘ What a bad cold.”
When we understand animals better, we shall not mix
up any merely speculative questions with actual facts, but
be more ready to admit in these beings an intelligence
in harmony with their organisation, their wants, and their
feelings.
Where can one find amongst human beings an attach-
ment greater than that of the two parrots belonging to Dr.
Franklin? “I have known two parrots,” said he, “which
had lived together four years, when the female became weak,
and her legs swelled. These were symptoms of gout, a
disease to which all birds of this family are very subject in
England. It became impossible for her to descend from the
perch or to take her food as formerly, but the male was
most assiduous in carrying it to her in his beak. He con-
tinued feeding her in this manner during four months, but
the infirmities of his companion increased from day to day,
so that, at last, she was unable to support herself on the
perch. She remained cowering down in the bottom of the
cage, making, from time to time, ineffectual efforts to regain
the perch. The male was always near her, and with all his
strength, aided the feeble attempts of his dear better half.
Seizing the poor invalid by the beak, or the upper part of
the wing, he tried to raise her and renewed his efforts several
times.
“‘ His constancy, his gestures, and his continued solici-
tude, all showed in this affectionate bird the most ardent
desire to relieve the sufferings and assist the weakness of his
companion.
‘‘ But the scene became still more interesting when the
JACKO (THE GREY PARROT). 127
female was dying. Her unhappy spouse moved around
her incessantly, his attention and tender cares redoubled.
He even tried to open her beak to give some nourishment.
He ran to her, then returned with a troubled and agitated .
look. At intervals he uttered the most plaintive cries, then
with his eyes fixed on her, kept a mournful silence. At
length his companion breathed her last ; from that moment
he pined away, and died in the course of a few weeks.
THE EAGLE.
Ir the names of certain animals are employed as terms of
con.cimpt, that of the eagle, on the contrary, is a synonym
iur intelligence, representing to everybody the greatest
intellectual powers. And yet few naturalists have observed
the intelligence of this king of birds. We must penetrate
with Audubon into the primitive forests of America to
make observations ‘on this point. “In autumn,” says he,
‘at a time when thousands of birds fly from the north, and
draw near to the tropic, let your boat skim over the waters
of the Mississippi. When you see two trees towering above
all others, side by side on the banks of the river, raise
your eyes—the eagle is there: Perched on the summit
of one of the trees, his flashing eye seems to burn like
a flame of fire. He contemplates attentively the whole
extent of waters, and his look is often directed towards the
sun. He observes, waits, listens to every sound, recollects
and distinguishes them, and even the step of the fawn, gently
moving the leaves, does not escape him. On the opposite
tree the female remains as sentinel; every now and then
she seems by her cry to exhort the male to be patient. He
_ replies by clapping his wings, inclining his whole body, and
by a shmill cry resembling in sound the laugh of a maniac ;
then he stands erect, so silent and immovable, one would
think he was marble. Ducks of all kinds, water-fowl, and
bustards, brought thither by the course of the river, fly past
in close battalions, but the eagle disdains such prey, and
THE EAGLE SEEKING HIS PREY,
THE EAGLE. 131
his contempt saves their lives. A sound, which the wind
wafts over the current, reaches the ears of the two brigands.
This sound has the harshness and reverberation of an
instrument of copper. The female warns the male by a
call made up of two notes. The whole body of the eagle
trembles. Two or three sharp strokes of his beak against
his plumage prepare him for the expedition. He is ready ©
to take flight.
“The swan approaches, like a vessel floating in the air,
his neck, white as snow, extended before him, and his eye
flashing with uneasiness. The precipitate motion of his
wings scarcely serves to sustain the weight of the body, and
the feet, folded back under his tail, are invisible. He
approaches slowly—a devoted victim. A war-cry is heard ;
the eagle darts off with the rapidity of a falling star or
the lightning flash. The swan recognises his executioner,
lowers his neck, describes a semicircle, and in an agony of
fear, manoeuvres to escape death. He has but one chance,
that of plunging into the current; but the eagle foresees
his intention, and forces his prey to remain in the air by
keeping himself underneath, threatening to strike the belly
and under the wings. This deep scheming never fails to
attain its end. The swan becomes tired and exhausted,
losing all hope of safety. The enemy still fears that the
prey may fall into the water ; a blow from the talons of the
eagle strikes the victim under the wing and precipitates
him obliquely on to the shore. So much power, activity,
prudence, and skill have completed the conquest. You
could not witness the triumph of the eagle without fear.
He strikes his strong claws into the heart of the dying
swan, beats his wings, and shrieks for joy. The last con-
vulsions of the dying swan intoxicate him. He raises his
Wee
132 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
bald head towards heaven; his eyes inflamed with pride,
are red as blood. His mate joins him: both return to the
swan, pierce his breast with their beaks, and gorge them-
selves with the warm blood which flows from it.”
“In this terrible drama,” says Adrian Leonard, “ intel-
ligence is in union with instinct, for it is impossible not to
recognise attention, observation, reflection, and forethought -
which is the result of experience.”
The following account of the patience with. which a
golden eagle submitted to surgical treatment, and the care
which it showed in the gradual use of the healing limb, must
suggest the idea that something very near to prudence and
reason existed in the bird. This eagle was caught in a fox-
trap set in the forest of Fontainebleau, and its claw had been
terribly torn. An operation was performed on the limb by
the conservators of the zoological gardens at Paris, which
the noble bird bore with a rational patience. Though his.
head was left loose, he made no attempts to interfere with —
the agonising extraction of the splinters, or to disturb the
arrangements of the annoying bandages. He seemed really
to understand the nature of the services rendered, and that
they were for his good. Either from pain or from anger, the
eagle refused to touch any of the offered food for thirteen
days. A rabbit being then presented, he killed it, taking
care not to use his injured claw. On the twenty-first day —
after the capture he began to experiment on the soundness
of the injured limb ; trying it first a little, now resting gently
upon it, and then throwing more weight upon the foot. The
limb at length recovered from the injury, but this result was
chiefly owing to the wonderful patience and intelligence of
the wounded bird. He seemed also to feel grateful to the
man who had tended him during the progress of the cure;
- THE EAGLE. 133
and such was the perfect confidence established between.
the two, that the eagle slept on a perch close to the bed of
the attendant.
Another fact may be mentioned illustrative of the eagle’s
ability to select, on the spur of the moment, the best means
for accomplishing a result.
Two boys had robbed an eagle’s nest, and were going
off with the young, when the mother suddenly returned,
and made a desperate attack upon the spoilers. The boys
defended themselves with sticks; but had the narrowest
possible escape from the fury of the exasperated bird. A
small stream ran near, and, in order to give greater power
to her wing, the eagle, at each swoop, dipped the feathers
in the water, and then trailed the wet wing against the sand.
Thus prepared, the stroke of the wing told upon the boys
with double force. Here we have a bird availing herself
of perfectly novel means to meet an unexpected emergency.
Mere instinct would not have taught the eagle thus to use
the water and sand,
VARIETY OF BIRD INTELLIGENCE.
SKILL OF THE TAILOR-BIRD—DEVICES OF THE TOM-TITS
AND THRUSHES—THE ROBIN APPEALS TO MAN—JEALOUS
PRUDENCE OF THE WREN—DEEP TRICK OF A CORN-
CRAKE—MATERNAL CARE IN A LARK — COMBINATION
AMONG STORKS—LOGIC OF A MOOR-HEN.
TuaT a bird should turn its beak into a sewing-needle
might seem a feat above all feathered genius; but the
tailor-bird of India has actually done so. ‘The following is
the mode in which this winged mechanic constructs its
nest :—The bird having selected two leaves of a size suited
to its wants, and picked up a bit of cotton-thread, drills a
hole in the leaves with the beak, and then, with the same
tool, passes a bit of the thread through; a knot being then
formed so as to prevent the thread from coming out, one
pair of holes is thus secured. The same operation is re-
peated with each set of holes, until a sufficient number of
the leaves is joined to forma nest. ‘This fastening a knot
at each pair of holes, instead of uniting all by one thread,
as a human sempstress would do with her needle, is a
tedious task ; but the bird has not got a needle, and there-
fore has to work with its natural tools. Surely this operation
is evidence of the existence of some power of reasoning.
The stratagem by which a hungry tom-tit will sometimes
procure a dinner seems to indicate a power of drawing con-
clusions from facts. The bird alights in front of a hee-hive
VARIETY OF BIRD INTELLIGENCE. 135
on a winter’s day, and then gives a vigorous tap with its
beak on the board at the entrance. It waits a while; a
bee—a curious and watchful bee—then probably comes out,
in spite of the cold, to see what can be the matter. It is
the insect’s last journey in pursuit of knowledge; the tom-
tit picks him up, in defiance of the sting. Proceeding in
this manner, the cunning bird manages to get something
like a dinner. The tom-tit seems to reason thus: “If I
tap, the bees will be alarmed; some are almost sure to
come out, and then they are mine.”
The lapwings and thrushes obtain breakfasts of worms
by a very similar process. Advancing until a worm cast is
visible, the bird jumps violently on the ground; in a short
time the worm generally comes out, whether from fright
at the singular shaking of the soil over his head, or from .
curiosity, we cannot say. No sooner, however, does he
wriggle out, than he is captured, without possibility of rescue.
The robin is well known to be a bold bird, fighting all
small birds, and showing in the winter little fear even of
man himself. But a fact is recorded which suggests that
the redbreast can reason upon the ability of man to help the
weak.
Mrs. Lee, in her “ Anecdotes,” says that one day her
gardener*was struck by the strange conduct of a robin,
which the man had often fed. The bird fluttered about him
in so strange a manner—now coming close, then hurrying
away, always in the same direction, that the gardener fol-
lowed its retreating movements. The robin stopped near a
flower-pot, and fluttered over it in great agitation. It was
soon found that a nest had been formed in the pot, and
contained several young. Close by was a snake, intent,
doubtless, upon making a meal of the brood. The man
136 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
saw the reason of the bird’s conduct, and carried off the
snake, upon which the redbreast expressed its joy by a
burst of song and triumphant flutterings. Here was a direct
appeal made by the robin to the man for aid against a foe.
Sometimes, however, birds will not confide in man, but
prefer to rely on their own resources.
Mr. Jesse gives an account of a wren which had been
annoyed by some children peeping into her nest. No harm
was intended ; the children would not, on any account, have
hurt the wren. But the bird suspected danger, or, at least,
objected to be overlooked. One day the opening into the
nest was found to be closed up. Had the cruel mother
actually buried her young alive, and turned their cradle into
a tomb? On closely examining the nest, it was discovered
that a new entrance had been made at the back, into which
the wren clearly thought no eye would pry. What coulda
human householder have done more to secure himself from
impertinent curiosity? If overlooked through the front
windows, his reason would lead him to close them and
open others at the back. ‘Thus the wren acted.
When an unarmed man is suddenly attacked by a bear,
and falling on the ground pretends to be dead, he is thought
to have displayed great presence. of mind. This can be
matched by an incident in the life of a corncrake.
One of these birds had been brought to a gentleman by
his dog. The corncrake was to all appearance quite dead
when laid on the ground, not a feather moved ; when turned
over, the whole body seemed lifeless, and the sportsman left
it on the ground awhile. He took it up hastily, for he had
seen one eye slowly open; perhaps the poor bird was not
dead. But there it hung in his hand, in all the drooping
Jassitude of death. The bird was then placed in his pocket
VARIETY OF BIRD INTELLIGENCE. 137
but in a short time it was certainly moving ; and yet, upon
again looking at it, there was no stir. The gentleman then,
somewhat perplexed, laid the corncrake on the ground, and
withdrew to a little distance. In a few minutes an eye was
_ slyly opened ; then the head was slowly raised ; and, lastly,
the artful bird got upon its legs, and darted off in thorough
corncrake style. Are we wrong in calling this “ presence of
mind.” The case seems to be well attested, both Mr. Jesse
and Mrs. Lee admitting it into their works.
Birds which build their nests on the ground are exposed
to special perils, and therefore adopt every precaution to
screen the nest from observation. How often does the
mower’s scythe bring instant death to the lark while sitting
on her nest? It happened that on one occasion the scythe
passed clean over a lark’s nest, neither injuring the mother
nor disturbing the young. The cutting away of the grass
had, however, laid the home open to every passer-by. The
mowers went on with their work, and the courageous bird
remained at her post of danger. After a short time the
farmer passed, but could see nothing of the nest. After
some close searching, the concealment was explained. ‘The
lark had actually placed over the nest a quantity of grass, so
arranged as to hide the whole completely from view, but
leaving a passage wide enough for her to go out and
return. ‘This case shows an intelligence adapting itself to
the. sudden emergencies of an unexpected crisis, which
must be something more than instinct.
Storks seem to have some means of so communicating
their wishes to each other as to be able to organise plans
and combine to carry them out.
One day a wild stork attacked with great fury a tame
member of his race, kept, with clipped wings, in a yard at
138 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
Tiibingen, but was driven off by some men. The next year
four storks attacked the tame bird, but were driven off by
the people, who were irritated at these assaults on their
favourite. For some time the precautions taken kept the
wild storks at a distance; but, in the spring of the third year,
an organised band of near thirty storks dashed into the yard
where their tamed brother was kept, and murdered him
before aid arrived. The original ground of quarrel is un-
known ; but it seems clear that these repeated attacks, with
constantly increasing numbers, were the result of concerted
action among the conspirators.
The same power of combination was shown by two moor-
hens. One of these birds saw a pheasant feeding from a
box which opens by a spring set in action by the weight of
the pheasant on a perch. No sooner had this bird left the
perch one day, than the moor-hen occupied the place, wait-
ing till the food-box opened. But this result did not follow,
because the moor-hen’s weight was not sufficient to act on
the spring. For a time the mortified bird tried to get the
door open by jumping on the perch; but this being of no
use, it flew off, and soon returned with another moor-fowl.
The weight of the two birds brought the spring down, and
the ingenious thieves were rewarded by feasting on the
pheasant’s food. Bishop Stanley, who recorded the case,
has no doubt of its truth; and the proceeding of the two
birds certainly looks like rational combination.
THE SWALLOWS.
GENTLENESS.—FIDELITY AND BROTHERHOOD.
FRaNcis oF Assisi being occupied one day in preaching to
an idolatrous population, the chattering of some swallows
prevented his words from reaching the ears of his audience ;
he addressed himself immediately to his interrupters in these
terms: ‘‘How many hours you chatter, my sisters; pray
keep silence a little while, so that I may also speak in my
turn, and explain to these good people the word of God.”
“These swallows,” says the story (for the accuracy of which
we do not vouch), “ became silent immediately, and listened
with profound attention to the words of the preacher !”
St. Francis, who certainly was not a simpleton, had pro-
bably remarked the intelligence of these charming little
birds. He knew without doubt, also, that the Psalmist
compares a pious man to the swallow, which loved to
suspend her nest in the arches of the Temple. The con-
fidence with which swallows build their nests in churches
and under our roofs may be deemed proof of their intelli-
gence. It has been remarked that the nearer animals live
to man the more their intellectual aptitude is developed.
Toussenel is, without contradiction, the author who has.
spoken best of the swallows. ‘‘ People have reason,” said
he, “to call swallows the birds of God, because there is no
species of animal on which the Almighty has, with more
partiality, shed his gifts. It surpasses the turtle-dove and
I40 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
common sparrow in tenderness, Philemon and Baucis in
fidelity, the partridge in maternal devotion, the wagtail in
social love, and the falcon in power of flight and keenness
of vision. The swallow is essentially the friend of man; in
countries where the children have no pity for other birds,
the swallows are respected. It is no uncommon thing to
see ten, fifteen, and even twenty swallow-nests under the
roof of a farm-house. ‘The worst man dare not touch them
there ; this is not oniy from a sense of pity for these inno-
cent creatures, which rid us of numbers of destructive insects,
but because men think that to destroy the. nest of a swallow
brings ill-luck. If there were no worse superstitions we
could well leave the people in their belief, while the swallow
herself can afford them lessons of conjugal fidelity and
maternal affection. The union of sw..!lows lasts as long as
their affection for the places of their birth, or the scenes of
their first love.”
Science has not sufficiently analysed all the circum-
stances which accompany the death of so many swallows by
drowning. In these cases of violent or premature death, we
see charitable neighbour birds take charge of the offspring
of the defunct pair, and generously provide for the support
and education of the poor orphans. What a lesson for bad
mothers, who have not the same care for their own children,
but sometimes leave them like a bundle of soiled linen in
the public <treets when they cannot dispose of them other-
wise! How can any one say that a creature with so many
good instincts is not intelligent ?
The house-swallow, says Dupont, is distinguished among
birds by its intelligence. Its tenderness for its little ones,
the gratitude of the latter, conjugal, filial, and paternal
love are constantly displayed in the nest, mingled with a
THE SWALLOWS. I4I
variety of affectionate and tender expressions. All the
members of the family feel an affection which they cannot
contain, and which they manifest by a delicious warbling ;
all seem to be desirous of say-
me, “ilove thee, thou art
beautiful and good !”
However, when about to
render service to a neighbour,
the voice which demands help,
and that which grants it, may
be distinctly heard. Many per-
sons know the story of the
swallow which had entangled
its claw, by some means, in a
piece of thread fastened to a
spout on the wall of the Collége
des Quatre Nations, at Paris.
Its strength being exhausted,
the bird hung at the end of the
thread, which it kept raising in
the endeavours to fly, uttering
plaintive cries. All the swal-
lows from between the Pont des
Tuileries and Pont Neuf, and
perhaps still further, gathered
together, to the number of some
hundreds, all uttering cries of pity and alarm. After some
hesitation and a tumultuous conference, one of them seemed
to have found a means of delivering their unfortunate com-
panion, and no doubt communicated it to the others. They
placed themselves in order, and each coming in turn, struck
the thread with the beak, somewhat after the fashion of
A Lesson for Bad Mothers.
I42 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
“tilting at the ring.” These thrusts, aimed at the same
point, succeeded each other every moment, and greatly ~
incommoded the poor captive; but in a short time the
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thread was severed, and the poor bird set at liberty! The
flock remained till night, chattering all the time; but in a
tone which had nothing of inquietude, and was expressive
only of mutual congratulation.
THE SWAI.LOWS. 143
A sparrow having taken possession of the nest of a
swallow, defended it most vigorously. The former pos-
sessors not being able to recover their heritage, invoked the
aid of their confederates, who, notwithstanding their numbers
and menaces, were not able to dislodge the usurper. All
their attempts were in vain. Suddenly their manceuvres
changed ; the assault was suspended, and the siege turned
into a blockade. Some brave swallows stood sentry over
the opening, and the others bringing their beaks full of
mortar, in a short time the nest was walled up like the fatal
prison of Ugolino. The cries of the vanquishers intimidated
the sparrow from attempting to make its escape. The con-
solidation of the wall was soon complete, and the usurper
perished.
The following case also shows the readiness and ability
of these little birds to combine against their foes. In the
year 1832 a pair of swallows built their nest under the eaves
of a house at Hampton Court. A pair of sparrows got
possession of the home, and the swallows were unable to
expel the impudent intruders. But when the usurpers had
to leave the nest in search of food for their young, then
came the time for revenge. During the short absence of
the sparrows a number of swallows tore down the nest from
the wall, and left the unfortunate young ones to perish, thus
proving that even birds may sometimes suffer through the
faults of their parents.
Numerous, indeed, are the cases in which swallows show
a sympathy for the welfare of their race. A nest, containing
young, had been beaten down by long continued rains, and
the brood was thus exposed to the pelting storm. Some
members of the family inhabiting the house threw a cloth
covering over the ruined nest, and thus saved the newly
144 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
fledged birds from perishing. But now loud outcries arose
from the parents, and from other swallows which instantly
flocked to the place. When the storm had passed the covering
was removed, and then an extraordinary scene was witnessed.
The old birds fed the young, and immediately all the
assembled swallows set to work in raising an arched earth-
work over the nestlings, and thus effectually protected the
young family. What could a colony of human settlers have
done more for a neighbour whose house had been destroyed?
No theory of mere instinct will explain such a proceeding.
The emergency was sudden, the remedy novel, and the
means effectual.
Something like-reason is seen in the following case :—
An American wren took possession of a martin’s nest, from
which the invader could not be expelled. The martins,
however, kept watch over the intruder, and no sooner did
the wren leave the nest to search for food than the martins
re-entered, and immediately planned a scheme for keeping
out the foe. They made the entrance so much narrower,
and so blocked up the passage that it would be impossible
for the wren to get in, while the owners kept at home. The
enemy soon returned, and at first tried force, but the strength
and arrangement of the defences baffled her. The foe now
established a siege, watching near the entrance for two days.
But the martins bravely held out in spite of hunger, and at
last, the patience of the wren giving way, she left the skilful
defenders of the fortress in peace. Here, again, we find
birds adopting special means to accomplish a particular end.
Mr. Jesse mentions the following as illustrating the in-
telligence of the swallows in adapting even the materials of
their nests to special situations. A pair of these birds
built against the wall of a lime-kiln chimney. The heat was
THE SWALLOWS. 145
so great as to make the nest crumble to pieces; a second
and even a third sharing the same fate. Some scheme for
making or collecting a new kind of material, capable of
bearing the heat, must then have been devised, for the
fourth nest stood. For two succeeding years the nests were
built in the same place and always endured the heat.
Between the first unsuccessful and the last improved works
of the little architects, some progress must have been made
in the composition or working up of the material for the
nest. These swallows were inventors in some way, as clearly
as Wedgwood was in his pottery improvements.
Another incident, mentioned by the same gentleman,
supports a similar conclusion. A. swallow had selected a
place for her nest in a corner formed by two walls, but the
surface of these being smooth, the bird could not easily find
any projection on which the foundation of the nest might
rest. She, however, managed to fix a bit of clay on each
wall, and then laid a piece of light wood on the two clay
supports. ‘This gave her a good foundation, and the work
was securely finished. Is a builder who overcomes a struc-
tural difficulty to be counted a clever workman, while similar
triumphs over obstacles by a bird are all explained by the
vague word “instinct ?”
One can well understand, from these facts, the energy,
union, subordination, and social spirit employed in common
defence and the general interest.
When about to migrate, the swallows assemble at some
place apparently agreed upon beforehand ; and, after a long
discussion, which occupies whole days, they set out in flocks.
It is said that the principal sign which warns them of the
necessity of leaving a country, is the slight elevation of the
sun in autumn. Birds are, in fact, very sensitive to light.
K
THE RAVEN, ROOK, AND MAGPIE.
THE raven does not inspire us with much interest. His
black coat, lugubrious air, his destructive instincts, and his
inclination for theft, have procured him much abuse, On
the other hand, his hypocrisy has not procured him many
friends. Sometimes he crows like a cock, mews like a cat,
barks like a dog, or imitates the sound of the rattle, with
which they frighten the birds from pillaging the fields of
corn.
He is capable of learning a little Latin. Dr. J. Franklin’s
raven, which was named Jacko, pronounced the word agua
distinctly, but he preferred wine to water. ‘“‘ One day,” said
the Doctor, “‘my housekeeper placed a glass of red wine
upon the table; in an instant the bird poured it quickly
down his throat, I mean that he plunged his beak into the
precious liquor, and sucked it up, drop by drop. When the
housekeeper, fearing he would break the glass, took it away,
the bird flew into her face in a fury. If three glasses are
placed upon the table, one of water, another of beer, and
the third of wine, he will leave the first two, and will only
pay his respects to the glass of wine. We may conclude,
then,” said the Doctor, “‘ that these birds are not so limited
to the dietetic regimen prescribed by nature as to show
themselves insensible to the good things of the kitchen or
the treasures of the cellar.”
Many writers have remarked the intelligence and saga-
city of ravens in judging of the dangers to which they are
THE RAVEN, ROOK, AND MAGPIE. 147
exposed by our weapons. A very lofty and bushy oak, far
from any habitation, served as a shelter during the night for
a number of ravens. ‘Thither they were seen to retire every
evening. One very clear night, about two hours after sun-
set, a gun loaded with ball was fired into the tree. The
ravens took to flight, but not one of them flew horizontally ;
on the contrary, all rose perpendicularlv like a burst of fire-
A
re
The Raven fights for the Wine.
works. Their unanimous calculation seems to have been,
that the shot which had been fired from the foot of the
tree might be followed by another, therefore it was best to
rise out of reach in a direction where the branches could
protect and hide them. It was not until they were at a
great elevation that they began to disperse in order to
choose another resting-place.
During the day, when the flock strayed through the
fields in search of food, five or six sentinels remained
in the air, flying slowly from side to side, observing all
that passed, and giving the others due warning. These
watchers were relieved at certain intervals.
The habits of ravens can rarely be watched in England
K2
148 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
now, few indeed of these birds being found in the more
cultivated districts, especially in the south. If the following
statement, published about a hundred years ago, is to be
relied on, the ravens must sometimes have shown a capacity
for combined action against foes. A blacksmith, of Bridge-
water, went out about Christmas to enjoy a little shooting ;
a number of ravens flew by, the man fired, and two birds
dropped. The rest instantly attacked the sportsman, dash-
ing their powerful beaks into his head and face; nor were
they driven off before the shooter had received many severe
wounds. Indeed, the man is said to have died a few days
after.
If the old and widely-believed story could be accepted,
which describes the raven as throwing pebbles into hollows
containing water, in order to raise the fluid to a point within
the reach of his beak, we must then class this bird among
the sagacious animals. Such an act would imply the pos-
session of some reasoning power. Great men, such as
Lord Bacon, have declared their belief in the statement,
but it is not sufficiently supported by any well-attested
observation.
There can be no doubt, however, that ravens show great
skill in obtaining food. The two, mentioned by Captain
McClure as watching every movement on board his ship in
the polar regions, were constantly outwitting a watchful dog
by stealing his food. They would entice the angry quad-
ruped to follow them for a distance, and then, suddenly
flying back, would arrive at: the mess-tins of the crew, and
snatch off the best bone before the dog could return.
It is much easier to note the customs of crows and rooks,
as these active and clever birds abound in every county.
The cleverness of the rook is well known, and no one who
THE RAVEN, ROOK, AND MAGPIE. T)
has observed them can hesitate to believe that these birds \
possess a strong memory, great prudence, and some capacity
for reasoning. The keen watchfulness with which they
regard a man armed with a gun must have been noted by
every one. The common notion that rooks can “ smell
gunpowder” may be wrong, but the old birds can certainly
draw a very fair conclusion respecting the power of a gun to
do them mischief. One warning note from the sentinel
rook is enough to send off a whole colony from its feeding
ground. The people in some parts believe that the rooks
distinguish Sunday from other days, and will then approach
places from which they generally keep at a safe distance.
The notion is by no means unreasonable. So watchful a
bird must notice many things which distinguish Sundays.
The absence of work in the fields, the general quietude of
the country, and the sounds of church bells coming from all
parts, are quite sufficient to impress upon the memory of a
rook the mosf evident marks of such a day. The strength
of memory in these birds cannot often be tested. as they
are seldom domesticated ; but there are instances which
show that the rook can long remember persons with whom
it has associated. An American gentleman had brought up
one from the nest, which became the pet of the whole
family ; but the love of liberty could not be destroyed. One
day the bird disappeared, nor could any news be obtained
of the wanderer. Eleven months had caused the rook to
be forgotten, when one day a number of the birds flew by,
and one, coming boldly down, perched on the gentleman’s
shoulder, uttering the most joyful cries. There was no
doubt about the old friend; certain marks enabled the
former owner to identify the fugitive, and he tried to lay
hold of the confiding bird. Then it flew back; it would
150 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
recognise and salute him, but it must remain free; therefore,
after much fluttering to and fro, the exile flew off to its
companions. The memory of this bird had enabled it,
after so long a time, to recognise not only the appearance
of the former owner, but there must have also been the
recollection of kindness received long ago, otherwise such
perfect confidence in man would hardly have been shown.
Thousands of such instances might be obtained if our
opportunities for observation were more extensive.
Rooks are said to possess, in a large degree, the faculty
of sympathising with the wounded of their own race. They
do, undoubtedly, flutter in the greatest agitation over and
around those which’ have been disabled by shots. If the
injured rook is able to move, the others call him forward
with incessant outcries, and show their anxiety to remove
him out of danger.
Some persons look upon magpies as mischievous chat-
terers rather than as clever birds. Some of their nests,
however, show no small degree of defensive skill, especially
in places where enemies abound. Mrs. Lee describes the
proceedings of a pair of these birds, which, having built
their nest in the low part of a gooseberry bush, where it
was exposed to the attacks of cats, found themselves com-
pelled to fortify their home. Well was the work accomplished.
A complete barricade of thorns was firmly fixed round the nest,
and even round the bush itself. This bird fortification was
nearly a foot thick, bidding defiance to every assailant except.
man himself. The magpie does, no doubt, often employ
its ingenuity for very improper objects. One is mentioned
who used his power of uttering words to impose upon man-
kind. He belonged to a family which lived near a toll-gate,
and from often hearing travellers utter the cry, had learned
St Mi
THE RAVEN, ROOK,. AND MAGPIE. 151
to pronounce the words “ gate ahoy.” ‘The bird had also
observed that the utterance of these words invariably brought
out the keeper’s wife to open the gate. Combining these
varfous points in his clever little head, the bird contrived a
scheme for plundering the good woman. On certain days
she prepared the dinner in a kitchen from which the toll-gate
was not visible, but the traveller’s call compelled her to
leave all her delicate little bits on the table for a few minutes
while the gate was being opened. Now the magpie coveted
some of these morsels, and one day, when the woman was pre-
paring the dinner, the well-known cry, uttered in a peculiar
voice, “gate ahoy,” compelled her to leave the kitchen.
To the amazement of the woman, she saw no traveller, nor
was there any malicious boy in sight who might have played
the trick. On returning to the kitchen she beheld the
magpie pecking with might and main at her eatables. The
thief soon made his escape from the angry woman, who
did not at first suspect the bird as the culprit; but when the
trick had been played two or three t:mes, the whole scheme
was clear. The magpie’s cheating then came to an end, but
his fame spread far and wide. In truth, we are sorry to
admit that the cleverness was so applauded that the crime
was overlooked. In this trick we can all see that the bird
must have combined in one view a number of facts, and
have reasoned correctly from them.
THE PARTRIDGE.
THE partridge has not a strong head, it is true; but ma-
ternal devotion is so manifested in this poor little creature
that her heart must be the great source of intelligence. We
do not know a better assorted union than that of the par-
tridge. ‘The male, once mated, is as tender and faithful as
his companion. Both love with all their heart, without fear
or hesitation. The ‘female deposits about twenty eggs, on
which she sits with unequalled ardour during twenty-four .
days, and takes care to place them in such order that every
one shall receive an equal amount of heat from her body.
During the whole time of incubation, the male, a model |
husband, is ever by the side of his companion, with a
solicitude, a happiness, and a kind of rapturous admiration,
being ever ready to accompany her when she leaves the
nest in search of food. As soon as the little ones are
hatched, he shares with the mother the cares of their edu-
cation; they lead them in common, call them incessantly,
show them the food suitable for them, and teach how to
procure it by scratching the earth with their claws. It is
not an uncommon thing to see the old birds sitting down
side by side, their wings covering the little ones, whose
heads are peeping out on all sides. And then, if the sports-
man’s dog, having scented the nest, approach too near, it is
always the male who takes flight first, uttering cries of dis-
tress, which betray his agony. He does not go away far;
but stops at the distance of thirty or forty paces, hoping
THE PARTRIDGE. 153
that all is not lost, and that the dog will have pity on
his beloved family. But, no; the dog knows no pity for
them. Then paternal love can no longer be restrained ;
the poor bird, not regarding his own weakness, sometimes
The Crisis.
even beats the dog with his wings. Ina little time he again
takes flight; but flies heavily, dragging his wings, as if to
attract the enemy by the hope of an easy prey, always flying
far enough, so as to escape being taken, but not far enough
154 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
to discourage the sportsman. Thus he contrives to draw
him further and further from the brood. La Fontaine attri-
butes this sagacious manceuvre also to the mother-bird.
Buffon says that the female takes flight the instant after
the male; always goes further, and in another direction.
She does not despair; but returns immediately, running
along the furrows, and approaching her little ones, all
hidden in the grass, gathers them together quickly, and
before the dog returns from pursuing the male, she has
conveyed them far away, without the sportsman hearing
the least sound.
A nest was so placed on some land which was beinz
ploughed that the next turn of the share must destroy it.
When the ploughmen came to the spot, the nest was there
in the very line of the plough, but the birds had gone, and
all the eggs, in number about twenty, had disappeared.
The men searched, and found the hen about forty yards
off, sitting on the eggs, which were on the point of being
hatched. In about a quarter of an hour the birds had
managed to remove all the eggs. Here was a clear esti-
mate of the danger, and the adoption of the best means
of escape.
LatB
THE GOLDFINCH.
Everysopy knows how skilfully goldfinches build their
nests; but here is a proof of their intelligence. A pair of
goldfinches had built on a branch which was not strong
enough. When the brood was hatched, the parents per-
ceived that the weight of their growing family was too
heavy for the branch, and that it was on the point of
giving way. In order to save the nest from a fall, which
appeared imminent, they formed the idea of binding the
slender branch to a stronger one close to it. At last, they
strengthened all, by means of a little stick which they
had picked up.
Toussenel relates that, in the reign of Louis Philippe,
there was, in a little town of the Oise, distant about twelve
leagues from Paris, a goldfinch whose intelligence surpassed
the common order, and which, for a long time, enjoyed
deserved popularity in his native country. He belonged
to a courier, who journeyed twice a week to the capital,
and the bird had been accustomed by degrees to accom-
pany his master in these expeditions. At first he limited
himself to flying before the carriage, and resting occasionally
on the front of the imperial, where his master was seated.
He flew away now and then to chatter with the birds of his
own species, which he met with on the way.
But the finch was soon tired of the slowness of the four-
wheeled vehicle, and by degrees accustomed himself to take
156 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
long flights in advance, going the whole of a stage to an.
nounce the expected arrival of his master at the hotel of the
great city, where he waited quietly at a corner of the fire,
when the weather was stormy, or flew out to meet his o owner
when the sky was bright.
This charming friendship of man and bird lasted several
years, during which time every inhabitant of the town in
question had witnessed each day a convincing proof of this
philosophical truth, that all saga-
cious animals have been created
to love and serve man, and that
the secret ambition of the most
intelligent is to be near him.
Another example of the at-
tachment of the goldfinch is re-
lated by M. Oscar Honoré, in
his work entitled “The Affections
of Animals.” A canary and a
goldfinch shared the same cage,
and, notwithstanding the differ-
ence of their origin, the pretty
captives lived together on the
best of terms. “They caressed,
and tried to outvie each other in
singing and warbling ; it was indeed a perpetual concert.
But one day, when the young lady of the house was putting
a piece of cake into the cage, the canary slipped through
her hand, and taking French leave, flew away. Imme-
diately the goldfinch wished to follow its example, but was
stopped in its career, and from the bottom of its prison
answered the joyous calls of its runaway companion. From
this moment the goldfinch ceased to sing. Crouching ina
Love in a Cage.
THE GOLDFINCH. 157
corner, all of a heap, his head hidden beneath some grass,
he would neither eat nor drink, perceiving which, his young
mistress went in quest of another canary. The next day
she brought him a new companion, and at first believed in
tne efficacy of the remedy, for the poor prisoner hearing
the sound of wings near him, raised his head, changed his
position immediately, and began to whistle joyfully ; but
the illusion was of short duration, he quickly perceived
it was not the one he regretted, and as the noise of the
new comer only wearied him, he crept into his feeding-
place, resumed his former position, and the next day was
dead.
The history of the guldfinch abounds with similar
examples of attachment, and his intelligence is on a par
with his generosity. Everybody knows the absolute devo-
tion of the male to the female, the family affection which
characterises the species, the grace and vivacity of their
language, and their wonderful architectural talent. But the
study of the captive goldfinch is still more interesting than
that of the free bird. A tame goldfinch having found that a
stale piece of bun, by reason of its hardness, was quite un-
catable, until it had been softened by exposure to a shower
of rain, profited by this experience, and ever after soakel
any food given him in water.
We may relate another proof of the intelligence of the
goldfinch. It is well known that this bird constructs its
charming little nest in three days. ‘This nest is generally
made of down, grass, horse-hair, wool, and moss. But the
birds do not always use the same materials, which is a proot
they are not guided by instinct aione.
A pair of goldfinches were seen to change the materials
of their nest three times, at the will of the proprietor of the
158 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
garden, where they had established their domicile. The
first day he gave them some wool and they made their
bed of that material. The second day he put within their
reach some wadding, which they substituted for the wool.
The third day he gave them some fine down, which soft
substance they immediately used for the nest.
GHEE CANARY.
How can any one say that the canary is devoid of sense ?
Is there a form more animated, a brighter eye, a finer or
more charming little head, than that of this lively bird,
whose structure is so delicate, colour so soft, feet so slender,
and movements so graceful? The canary is all gentleness
and vivacity. Our favourite canaries are nearly always
singing, tame, good-tempered, sweet in disposition, good
husbands, tender fathers, and naturally happy. They cheer
their mates incessantly by their singing, relieve them in the
labour of hatching, and take their places for several hours
during each day; they also join in feeding the young ones,
and in teaching them all that is necessary.
In proportion to the weight of their body, their brain
appears more developed than that of man.
_ These birds are very docile and teachable. They will
lay aside their own natural melody to take up the harmony
of our voices and instruments. They can learn to whistle,
and even to speak. The facility with which they learn
different kinds of performances is another proof of the
docility of their intelligence. We have seen some at a fair
which went through their exercises with the precision of old
grenadiers.
Fée relates how these little creatures afforded the spec-
tators much entertaining and interesting amusement. They
pretend to fall down as if shot; their comrades come
160 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
and carry them off. They guess the meaning of certain
cards, draw little cannons, pretend to charge and then to
fire them; they mount guard, manceuvre at the word of
command, and place sentinels. “ Partridges,” adds Fée,
“have been taught, but less frequently, to do the same
tricks.”
One of our friends possessed a male and female canary,
which, having no materials for making a nest, hit on the
expedient of tearing out the feathers of their first brood to
prepare a bed for the second.
According to Toussenel, the original cd of ‘he Canary
Islands is the most skilful, most intedigert, and most
indefatigable of songsters.
aoe SLANDERED “BIRDS.
GEESE.
WHEN observing their awkward gait, long neck, and gaping
bills, the geese appear heavy, stupid, and awkward; how-
ever, they are not so stupid as
they seem. Their eye, less quick wll ie i 2s
than that of the eagle, shows Ai il ;
a certain amount of dignity ull : i
and intelligence. It is true ili)
they have not strong heads, but
they have good sight, a keen
ear, and their vigilance is seldom
at fault. During their sleep, or
at feeding time, a sentinel, with
head and neck extended, is
always there, ready to give a
signal to the flock in case of
alarm. Having saved Rome, it
certainly cannot be regarded as
an emblem of stupidity. 7”
In Scotland, a young goose SSS
had formed such an attachment Goose Attachment.
for its master that it followed him
everywhere, no matter how great the distance, and even
through the crowd and tumult of a city. One day this gen-
tleman walked down one of the most frequented streets, and
ib
162 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
entered the shop of a barber to be shaved. The bird waited
patiently while the operation was being performed, then
accompanied its master to the house of a friend, after which
it returned home. It is said that geese do not recognise
their master when the
ee eee latter has changed his
Poa dress. The change of
appearance, in this case,
does not appear to have
caused any doubt in the
sagacity of this bird. It
recognised its master in
any dress, seemed to know
his voice, and expressed
its satisfaction by cries.
In Germany, an aged blind
woman was led to church
every Sunday by a gander,
vhich dragged her along,
holding her gown in his
beak. As soon as the
old woman was seated in
A Goose acting as Guide. her pew, the gander re-
tired to the churchyard to.
feed upon the grass, and when the service was ended,
he conducted his mistress to her home. One day the
pastor called to pay a visit to this person, but found
she had gone out; on his eXpressing some surprise to
her daughter, that she should trust her mother to go out
alone, she replied, “Oh, sir, we have nothing to fear,
my mother is not alone, the gander is with her!” Wild
geese are also gifted with remarkable sagacity, They fly
Fn Bie
sm zt
THE SLANDERED BIRDS.—GEESE. 163
without tumult; and the order in which their journey is
accomplished, supposes, says Dr. Franklin, a high degree of
intelligence and combination. There is an arrangement, a
method, a system, in virtue of which each individual keeps
his rank and follows the body of the army with as little
fatigue as possible. They place themselves in two oblique
lines, forming a triangle, or in a single line when the
battalion is not numerous. The bird at the head of the
triangle cleaves the air first ; when fatigued, he retires to the
last rank to repose, and others take his place by turns in
order. We have also observed the same mode of flying
amongst the bustards, which are numerous in some coun-
tries.
The goose appears to be constant in its affections. It
knows also how to show anger. I remember, when a
child, if we met with any geese, we used to tease them in
order to make them angry. They would run after us in a
rage, seize hold of our clothes, and nip us vigorously, to
punish us for our insults.
Geese are sometimes singular in their attachments. We
knew one which never seemed so happy as when the cat
was sitting on the back of the bird. The friendship which
existed between these most dissimilar animals was of too
singular a character to be often seen.
TURKEYS.
THEIR COURAGE AND DEVOTION.
TURKEYS are not less stupid-looking than geese. Their
still smaller head, heavier body, and grating cry, do not
plead in their favour. Certain old women, generally tall,
with red noses, gourmands by nature and drunkards by
habit, always grumbling out some unintelligible words, often
appear to have some relationship with turkeys. Toussenel
has given a satirical description of the turkey. “It is,” said
he, “a glutton of the worst kind, making his belly his god,
and knowing well that he is doomed to the spit, takes the
trouble of fattening himself, so that there is no need to aid
this natural disposition by any surgical operation. His
extreme voracity is the reason that he often chokes himself
while eating, and thus earns for him the name of ‘the
glutton’ in the countries bordering on the Loire. Besides,
he carries the marks of all his vices on his stupid phy-
siognomy, and has not one note of intelligence. It is said
that a bad, senseless man resembles a turkey. It is truly
a flattering portrait. The turkey is more than stupid and ©
wicked, more than a glutton and dotard. He is bald like
all dons-vivants; he has a face, forehead, and cheeks dis-
figured by bunches of warts and chaplets of red fleshy
excrescences, caused by the excesses of the table! These
characteristics recall the physiognomy of the vulture, which
“
TURKEYS. 165
the turkey resembles in size, colour, cowardice, and
voracity.
“The vulture is a usurer of the worst kind; the turkey
is a thick-headed worldling, a financial upstart. There is
surely a physical and moral relationship between the two
types. The turkey also carries, at the bottom of his neck,
a tuft of black hair, an emblem of his brotherhood with the
goat. This model of gourmands, drunkards, and idlers,
has an irascible temper. Like rich people of modern
times, you hear him always blustering and gobbling; you
see him always red or blue with anger.”
After so terrible a portrait of the turkey, who will dare
to say anything in his favour? Is there any living creature
on the earth that has no good quality? We cannot think
that there is an animal to be found anywhere in creation,
however vile, which has not some redeeming quality.
Epicures will tell you that the flesh of the turkey is ex-
tremely delicate. Philosophers, who plead in favour of the
female sex, will affirm that the hen-turkey is the most
courageous and devoted of mothers; that she will rather
die of hunger than leave her eggs. Turkeys, notwithstanding
their proverbial stupidity, are often very cunning. Audubon
says that the wild turkeys, being accustomed to perch on
the naked branches in flocks, are easily discovered by the
large screech-owl, which flies silently, and frequently surprises
them. Sometimes, however, its presence is announced by
a cry from one of the turkeys, and in an instant they are
all watching the movements of the enemy, which, however,
selects a victim, and darts upon it like an arrow. It seems
inevitably lost, unless indeed it can manage to lower its
head quickly, and spread out its fan-tail to oppose a barrier
avainst the strong talons of its assailant. The owl then
166 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
finds. only a slanting shield, on which she slips about,
without being able to seize anything but feathers. The
turkey immediately jumps to the ground, having lost only
a few quills.
It has been thought, up to this time, that among the
gallinaceous birds, the love of offspring was the exclusive
privilege of the female; this fact has been attributed to
polygamy. But here is an exception to the rule. A
turkey-hen was about to sit; the male, having been sepa-
rated from her, appeared so unhappy in his solitude,
that the owners placed him with his companion. He
immediately crouched down close to the hen. They
thought, at first, it was simply a mark of affection, but soon
discovered that he had taken some of the eggs under his
_wing, and covered them most carefully. The servant who
had charge of the poultry, thought this method of hatching
would not be very successful, and replaced the eggs under
the hen; but the male was no sooner at liberty than he
again took some under his charge, as he had done before.
The master having observed the circumstance, resolved to
run the chance of the experiment, and left the turkey to
follow his inclination. He ordered a nest to be prepared
with as many eggs as the large body of the turkey could
cover. The turkey appeared delighted with this mark of
confidence, he sat over the eggs with a patience truly
maternal, and was so attentive to the duties of incubation
that he scarcely allowed himself time to go in seach of food.
At the expiration of the usual time, twenty-eight young ones
pierced their shells. The turkey who was, in some respects,
the mother of this numerous brood, seemed somewhat per-
plexed when he saw this family of little ones pecking
around him and claiming his constant care. They were
TURKEYS. 167
taken from him for fear he should neglect them, or crush
them with his great claws.
The turkey mentioned by Audubon showed a degree of
memory and intelligence not often witnessed in these birds.
Audubon had brought up this turkey from the nest, and it
had become perfectly familiar with all the dogs on the
farm, near the Ohio. One morning, Audubon being in the
woods with his dog Juno, saw in the distance a fine turkey,
which he supposed to be a wild one, and sent Juno after
it. When the dog came near the bird, Audubon saw with
amazement that each animal seemed on the best of terms
with the other. It was the pet turkey which had strayed
into the wood, and recognised Juno apparently before the
dog detected her bird acquaintance.
THE CRANE AND THE DRAKE.
SOME years ago a gentleman possessed a pair of slate-coloured
cranes. One of them, the female, died, and the survivor
seemed inconsolable. According to all appearance, he
would soon follow his companion, when the master thought
of bringing a large looking-glass into the aviary. The
bird no sooner beheld his own image reflected, than he
placed himself before the glass, made his toilet by smooth-
ing his feathers, and exhibited evident signs of contentment.
The plan was quite successful. The male recovered his
health, regained his spirits, and lived for several years. Did
this bird imagine that the image reflected in the glass was
the shadow of her he mourned? or was it only a diversion
from solitude? .
There exists in India a gigantic crane (A7dea argila)
which shares with the jackals the office of scavenger of the
public roads.
Even the drake, whose nasal and discordant voice
denotes but little intelligence, has on some occasions shown
great sagacity. The following has been related by one of
‘our most eminent naturalists, who heard it from a person
worthy of credit :—
“‘A young lady was sitting in a room adjoining a poultry-
yard, where chickens, ducks, and geese were disporting
themselves. A drake came in, approached the lady, seized
the bottom of her dress with his beak, and pulled it vigorously
i ANY
SIN I N
iW,
THE DRAKE LEADING THE LADY TO THE RESCUE.
THE CRANE AND DRAKE. 171
Feeling startled, she repulsed him with her hand. The bird
still persisted. Somewhat astonished, she paid some atten-
tion to this unaccountable pantomime, and discovered that
the drake wished to drag her out of doors. She got up, he
waddled out quickly before her. More and more surprised,
she followed him, and he conducted her to the side of a
pond where she perceived a duck with its head caught
in the opening of a sluice. She hastened to release the
poor creature and restored it to the drake, who, by loud
quackings and beating of his wings, testified his joy at the
deliverance of his companion.”
THE MAMMALIA.
We have now reached a class of animals which, by their
organisation and intelligence, approach nearest to man.
The mammalia have a bony skeleton, the centre of which
is the spine, to which the other organs are attached, and
whence they all radiate. They possess, also, a brain, in
which the hemispheres are well developed ; a heart with
two ventricles and two auricles; lungs for inhaling air to
oxydise the blood and stimulate all the organs, the brain
especially. The thoracic cavity contains the lungs and the
heart, which are always separated from te abdominal cavity
by a complete diaphragm.
In this class the organs of sense acquire great perfection,
even in their accessory parts. For instance, the greater
number of each species have distinct eyelids, an external
ear, and other peculiarities which are not found amongst
the oviparous animals. ‘The mouth is furnished with fleshy
lips (except the monotrematous animals*), and the body is
habitually protected with a specially adapted covering.
All the mammalia have five senses, but in different
degrees. ‘Thus, one species, such as the chamois and wild
goats, that live upon the mountains, have long sight, and can
see better far away than near. On the contrary, the heavy
races which inhabit the valleys, such as the hog and rhino-
* The Echidna, or Australian hedgehog, and the Oruzthorhynchus,
or water-mole of New South Wales, belong to the Monotremes.
THE MAMMALIA. 3 173
’ ceros, can see objects best when near them. Those whose
eyes are too sensitive to bear the bright light of day, only
go out during the night, like bats, or even hide themselves
under the earth, as the armadillo and hedgehog. ‘Those
creatures which are the weakest, being on that account the
more timid, are gifted with a keen sense of hearing. This
enables them to avoid danger. The hare, the rabbit, the
jerboa, the mouse, and other rodentia, on hearing the
slightest noise, prepare for flight. The more powerful or
courageous races, the lion, tiger, cat, and lynx, whose sight
is keen, even at night, have short ears and weak hearing,
the strength of one sense generally compensating for the
weakness of others.
With the carnivora the sense of taste becomes an eager,
- sanguinary appetite, while the herbivorous animals require a
’ delicacy of taste to enable them to distinguish the nourishing
plant from that which would poison them. “ Thus,” says
Virey, ‘‘nature adapts the constitution of each individual
to its destiny on earth. In depriving the armadillo and
pangolins of teeth, she covers them with a coat of mail or
scales. In making the hedgehog and porcupine weak and
defenceless, she enables them to raise at pleasure a forest of
sharp quills, and these animals have only to roll themselves
up and become a prickly ball, which is quite impregnable.
In denying to the herbivorous animals strong teeth and
hooked claws, nature has armed the head of the ruminants
with formidable horns; finally, she gives to the timid animals,
such as the rodentia, either the industry to hide themselves
in the earth, like the marmot, the rabbit, and the rat; the
agility to jump from tree to tree, like the squirrel; or great
quickness in running, and power to take immense leaps in
fleeing from danger, as the kangaroo, which bounds along
174 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
like a grasshopper. The llama is quite defenceless, but, if
attacked, it covers its enemies with a disgusting and bitter
saliva. The pole-cats, and all of that species, when
pursued, throw off such execrable odours that their most
ferocious enemies are obliged to give up the pursuit.
Some animals frighten their persecutor by frightful cries,
like the howling monkey; others mislead their foes by a
number of tricks and careful precautions, and know where
to obtain safe shelter and seek obscure retreats.
The smallest species, besides being more numerous
and multiplying more abundantly, are also more lively in
proportion to their size than the larger animals. Before
an elephant or a whale could turn round, a dormouse
or a mouse would have made a hundred movements,
the smallness of the limbs giving more unity and more
control over the body; the shorter muscles contract more -
easily, and each movement is more rapid than amongst
larger creatures. The mammalia form the intermediate class
by which the other animals approach to us, and by which
the inferior species are grouped around man. In fact,
the family of the apes seems to come very near to the
human race. On the other hand, the bats, the flying
squirrel of Siberia, and other like species, appear to link the
birds to the mammalia; while the armadillo and the pan-
golin, quadrupeds covered either with a cuirass or with
scales placed one over the other, seem related to the
reptile, such as tortoises and lizards. The amphibious
mammalia, such as the seal, sea-cow, and other cetacea,
which apparently partake of the nature of fishes, are linked
to the large and numerous classes of aquatic animals.
“Thus,” says Virey, “the mammalia form the nucleus
round which are grouped the different superior classes of
THE MAMMALIA. 175
the animal kingdom as being the most perfect type of
creation, and the first link in the chain of animated nature
next toman. Let us compare the various other classes with
the mammalia. The bird, inhabitant of the air, has received
a temperament warm and lively, delicate and sensitive ;
always gay, full of fire and inconstancy, like the variable
region he traverses. The fishes again, the cold creatures of
the waters, are more apathetic, and occupy themselves
chiefly with material wants; their scaly covering seems to
steel them against gentle impressions, and hinder them
from feeling acutely, or bringing their intelligence to any-
thing hke perfection. The quadrupeds, on the contrary,
existing in a medium state, equally below the airy heights,
_as above the deep abyss of the waters—sharing with man
the possession and sovereignty of the earth—seem to hold
. the middle place between two extremes. They have
neither the ardour nor petulance of the bird, the lower
sensibility of the fish, nor the apathy of the reptile ; but,
living as they do on a dry and firm soil, their nature has
received more consistency, and their frame more solidity.
The locomotion of the quadruped has not the rapidity
of flight, nor the nimbleness of swimming; but it has
not the painful slowness of the tortoise and other reptiles.
All the series of these mammalia represent a long suc-
cession of inferior structures below that of man. The
monkey, considered either with regard to his external form
or internal organisation, seems but a man degenerated.
Skeleton, members, muscles, veins, nerves, brain, stomach,
and principal viscera resemble ours almost entirety, not only
in general structure, but in the ramifications of the lesser ves-
sels.- In comparison with us it appears an imperfectly formed
_ being, although it is perfect as regards its own species.,
176 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
‘The same scale of graduated inferiority is observed in
descending from the monkey to the bat; from the latter to
sloth, to the carnivora, and through all the series.
The smaller the extent of the brain, especially the hemi-
spheres, and the fewer the number of its circumvolutions, the
more brutal or more animal-do we find the creature. In fact,
in the monkey itself, and the quadrupeds with long snouts,
which bend towards the earth, everything tends to the growth
of the appetites and the development of the senses. They
think only of satisfying their physical wants. Of all animals
the quadrupeds are the most capable of understanding us ;
not only on account of their organisation, but also because
they are more susceptible of being domesticated. The bird
has less relationship with us; for, whatever familiarity or
intelligence may be attributed to the parrot or tame canary,
the qualities of the dog, the beaver, and the elephant always
surpass those of the most clever birds. The more closely
a well organised animal approaches to us, the more it can
comprehend us, and we can more easily aid in developing
its intelligence. This is especially the case with the
mammalia.
Nevertheless, the influence of man upon the domestica-
tion of animals is limited by their fitness for sociability.
There is not a single domesticated species which does not,
naturally, live in society. Of all the solitary species, there
is not a single one which has become domesticated ; and
sociability does not in the least depend on their intel-
ligence, for the sheep lives in companionship, while the
lion, fox, and bezr live solitarily. Neither does it depend
on habit; for the long continuance ot the young ones with
their parents does not produce it. The bear cherishes its
young ones with as much tenderness and for as long a time
im
i
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m a We cl A
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Wil
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uae
THE BEAR TENDING HER YOUNG.
M
THE MAMMALIA. 179
as the dog, and yet the bear is amongst the most solitary
animals.
Frederic Cuvier has observed three distinct conditions
amongst animals :—The solitary species, such as cats, mar-
tens, bears, and hyenas ; those which live in families, such
as wolves, roebucks, &c.; those which live in societies, such
as beavers, elephants, monkeys, dogs, seals, &c. ;
Cuvier has devoted himself to the study of these societies.
He follows the progress of the animal, which, born in the
“midst of the flock, is there developed, and which, at each
epoch of its life, learns from all which surrounds it to place
its new existence in harmony with that of the old ones.
The feebleness of the young animals is the cause of their
obedience to the old, which possess strength; and the
habit of obeying once adopted .by the young, is the reason
why the power still remains with the most aged, although
he has become in turn the most feeble. Whenever a society
is under the direction of a chief, that chief is nearly always
the most aged of the troop. Mons. Flourens thinks that
this order may, perhaps, be disturbed by violent passions.
If this be the case, the authority passes to another; and,
having commenced anew by reason of strength, they pre-
serve the same by habit. There are, therefore, amongst the
mammalia species which form real societies ; and it is from
these alone that man takes all domesticated animals. The
horse becomes, by domestication, the companion of man ;
and of all animals of his species is the most naturally so.
The sheep, which we have reared, follows us, but he
also follows the flock, in the midst of which he was born.
According to Cuvier, he looks upon man as the leader of
the flock. Man, says M. Flourens, is to the animals only
a member of their society ; all his art is reduced to making |
M 2
180 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
himself acceptable to them as an associate; for, let him once
become their associate, he soon becomes their chief, being
superior to them in intelligence. Man does not, therefore,
change the natural state of these animals, as Buffon says ; on
the contrary, he profits by it. In other terms, having found
the animals sociable, he renders them domesticated; and
thus domestication is not a singular case, but a simple
modification, a natural consequence, of animal sociability.
Nearly all our domestic animals are naturally sociable. The
Ox, goat, pig, dog, rabbit, &c., live, by nature, in society ;
that is, in herds or flocks.
The cat is not really a domesticated animal—it is not
subdued, only tamed ; In the same way the bear, lion, and
tiger even might be tamed, but not domesticated. Man’s
influence will make a sociable animal domesticated, but a
solitary animal he can only tame.
M. Flourens attributes the domesticity of animals to
their social instincts. But whence comes this instinct?
By what is it determined? Evidently by the organisation.
Animals which have hitherto resisted sociability are
manifestly those in which animalism is most developed, and
which are better armed to insure their existence and defend
their life. Man may be able to train the seal for fishing, but
the greater number of the marsupialia, edentata, and rodentia
have too little intelligence for him to derive much advantage
from it. Let us here recall the fact that amongst the mam-
malia the degree of intelligence is in proportion to the
development of the brain hemispheres. In the rodentia the
hemispheres have no circumyolutions ; those of the rumi-
nants have; those of the pachydermata have more, and
thus they go on increasing, in the carnivora, monkeys, and
ourang-outans. The hemispheres of the rodentia have but
THE MAMMALIA. 181
one lobe, those of the ruminants have two, those of the
pachydermata have three, and still higher developed are
those of the carnivora, monkeys, ourang-outan, and man.
With regard to the size of the brain hemispheres before
and behind, we must note that in the rodentia they do not
reach the four little elevations called the pyramids, and
olivary bodies; in the ruminants they cover them, in the
pachydermata they reach to the hinder part of the brain,
they extend over all that part of the brain in the ourang-
outan, and in man they go beyond it.
In making these remarks on the organ of intelligence,
let us not forget that all the other functions re-act on the -
brain. We will now commence the study of intelligence in
the mammalia with those which possess a brain but little
developed. Then we will proceed successively to those
whose intellectual faculties approach nearest to man.
CETACEA.
WHALES — MANATEES — DUGONGS —- NARWHALS — SEALS —
WALRUS—DOLPHINS—PORPOISES.
THE Cetacea comprehend the whales and all animals allied
to them by habits and structure. Can intelligence be ex-
pected among such creatures? Undoubtedly ; and few
indeed are the animals which have not faculties perfectly
adapted to their modes of life. We may advance a step
further, and say that not even ove living creature is found
unfurnished with faculties suited to its wants: its gifts cor-
respond to its requirements. The wider our knowledge of
animal nature becomes, the more deeply are we impressed
with the conviction that mzzd, in various degrees, belongs
to every animal. We may certainly, then, expect to find
manifestations of this power in the families of the order
Cetacea.* Of all marine creatures these are most allied to
ourselves. This will startle those only who are not ac-
quainted with the structure of the common whale or seal ;
their warm blood, circulating system, breathing by lungs,
and the nourishment of the young with the mother’s milk,
place an impassable barrier between them and the other
inhabitants of the deep. The same peculiarities place them
in that great class, the mammalia, at the head of which
man stands as the divinely commissioned chief of the whole
animal world.
* A word formed from the Latin Cefe, which is from the Greek
- KiTo¢c, a whale, or large fish.
CETACEA. 183
<
Let no proud son of Adam feel it a degradation to be
thus associated with whales. We cannot escape from those
great laws of structure which the Creator has been pleased
to observe when He designed the higher forms of animal
life, placed far above the other members of the great animal
kingdom. We need not shrink from noting either the phy-
sical resemblances or mental qualities which belong to all.
The huge size of the whales, perhaps, tends to fix our
attention exclusively on their massive forms and giant
strength. A creature measuring seventy feet in length, the
main artery (aorta) of whose heart is a foot in diameter, and
which at every beat of the organ ejects twelve gallons of
blood into the circulating system, is naturally regarded as a
mere titanic mass of animal life. But these giants of the -
deep possess affections and degrees of intelligence not un-
worthy of our consideration. They are social animals,
and thus possess one marked characteristic of intelligent
creatures. Sometimes five hundred or more spermaceti.
whales are found moving under the guidance of old chiefs.
The fishermen call these associations ‘‘ schools,” and the
leaders ‘‘schoolmasters ;’ terms not quite inappropriate
when it is borne in mind that the young whales form the
majority of such groups. Some of these “schools” are
wholly composed of females, guarded by two or three
sagacious ‘“ schoolmasters,” whose office can hardly be a
sinecure. Others consist of the young animals carefully
tended by their mothers. ‘Troops, forty or fifty in number,
will often follow a ship for miles if not attacked.
These social affections in the whale are most strongly
shown in the care and attention bestowed upon the young.
All who have seen the mother whale giving suck to her
one or two ‘‘infants,” and have watched the young playing
184 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
round the parent, need no proof that the great law of love
acts strongly in these huge children oi the deep. The
affection of the common Greenland whale for her young is
often used to accomplish her destruction. If the young one
can be struck with the harpoon, the fishermen know that the
mother will encounter every peril in the attempt to extricate
her child. Sometimes her fury and desperation have ex-
posed the assailants to the most imminent danger. Captain
Scoresby, who witnessed the capture of so many whales, gives
several accounts of the determined courage shown by the
mother whales in the attempt to rescue their young. Some
caught “the baby” by their flippers or fins, and tried to drag
it away, and lost their own lives in the incessant attempts to
save the harpooned little one. In all these struggles the
whale evidently understood the nature of the peril and the
object of her human foes. The mode in which the agonised
whale endeavours to carry off the young, has all the appear-
ance of an intelligent act. The “infant” is taken wader the
swimming paw or fin of the mother, and pressed closely by
the fin-hand to the parent’s side, much in the same manner
as a child is sometimes carried for a short distance under a
woman’s arm. The strong pressure of the paw, nine feet long
and five wide, is quite sufficient to drag off the young with a
hundred yards of rope and harpoon attached to the body.
Even in the mode of feeding her young, the whale shows
a thorough sense of the little creature’s wants, and adapts
her position in the water to its requirements. When the
young one wishes to take the breast, the mother floats on
her side, and thus enables the “child” to feed with ease.
The whale’s milk is said to be much richer than that of the
cow, so that the infant cetacean is really well cared for in
the matter of food. |
CETACEA. 185
The management of the singular “whalebone” trap,
with which the mouth of the Greenland whale is furnished,
might seem to require some skill in the animal; probably,
however, the opening and closing of so many hundred plates
of daleen to let in the water and retain the “ whale’s food,”*
may be as involuntary as the action of the human e¢figdottis
in closing the opening to the windpipe, when the food
passes over.
The energy which whales evince when pierced by the
harpoon must ever prevent them from being classed among
the “sluggish” animals. Scoresby records a case of one of
these animals descending for a mile into the ocean’s depths at
one plunge, dragging after it that enormous length of rope.
Even, after such a dive, the furious plunges of the whale
would have probably drawn the large boat under the water
also, had not a fresh crew arrived with more rope. The
nervous and muscular energy required for so grand a plunge
may be estimated from the fact that the pressure of water
on the body of such an animal at that depth must have
exceeded 210,000 tons.
The other members of the cetacean order show an in-
telligence and energy equal, if not even superior, to that of
the whale. Two genera are vegetable feeders, the manatees
and dugongs. ‘The former obtain their name from the Latin
manus, a hand, on account of the hand-like form of the
flippers, in which the bones of the four fingers can be dis-
tinctly traced. These manatees having the bosoms placed
high on the breast, and the mouth surrounded with hair,
when seen swimming with head above water and baby at the
breast, not unnaturally originated the poetic stories of mer-
* The Clio. Borealis, a small mollusc which swarms in the Northern
Ocean.
a
186 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
maids and mer-men. ‘Thus the “ woman-fish,” and “the
bearded man of the sea,” gave birth to many a wondrous
tale of old romance. The manatee excels, if possible, the
common whale in affection and care for the young, which
are said to be placed in the centre of the troop on the
approach of danger.
The dugongs (Hatcore),* another genus of vegetable-
feeding cetaceans, are just as remarkable as the manatees for
the intelligence manifested in the care of the young. Indeed,
Professor Owen himself has not given more attention to the
structure of the dugong’s teeth than these inoffensive people
of the sea devote to the bringing up of their families. On
this account the half-civilized tribes of the South Pacific
Ocean regard the dugongs as the very model of maternal
tenderness. Does not this sound like a delicate bit of irony
on uncultured humanity? A cetacean is selected as the
type of motherly love!
The narwhal, or unicorn-whale, may show less intelli-
gence than some other members of the order, but this
animal appears to be a clever harpooner, piercing fishes
with its seven feet long horn or tusk before swallowing them.
To draw into its smooth, toothless mouth, a strong and living
fish, would be impossible, and therefore the narwhal is fur-
nished with a long spear-like tusk with which to kill its prey.
This animal is also thought to find another use for this
weapon. When the shallow arctic waters, in which the
narwhal delights to live, are frozen over, the creature must
either move out into the deeper and unfrozen seas, or pierce
the ice in the shoal waters in order to obtain breathing
holes. The latter is the course often adopted ; the solid
* This compound Greek word signifies mer-maid, viz., maid of
the sea.
CETACEA. 187
ivory tusks being well fitted to split up any but the thickest
ice. Curiosity is sometimes playfully imputed to Eve’s
daughters as a fault, but this quality is, nevertheless, a mark
of intelligence. The narwhals possess it in a high degree.
The sight of a ship attracts the amazed herd, which swims
round her again and again, as if endeavouring to com-
prehend the nature of the mass before them. The tusk of
the narwhal was often placed in old museums as a true
unicorn’s horn, but for this misrepresentation our simple-
minded cetacean is not responsible.
The seals must not be passed over when considering the
intelligence of the order to which they belong. Some class
them amongst the quadrupeds, but the less we refer to the
four feet of the seal the better for our own repute. The
skill, acuteness, and memory of seals will be admitted by all
those who are most familiar with them. The amazing speed
with which they dodge a shot, plunging at the moment of
the flash, is well known to hunters. The activity and
courage displayed by them in hunting the swift salmon has
moved the highest indignation of many a fisherman. Sir
Walter Scott was well aware of the cunning and courage of
the seal when representing in “The Antiquary” the laugh-
able overthrow of M‘Intyre by the enraged animal he had
endeavoured to capture. Many readers will recollect how
the captain was prostrated, and the antiquary’s stick carried
off by the victorious ‘ phoca.” The seal, however, is not
usually the assailant of man, save in defence of itself or
young ones. Then, indeed, it will make a good fight, for
which none can blame the creature. The animal has often
been tamed so far as to visit, at intervals, the cottage of its
benefactor, and even to apply for shelter at the door during
those terrible tempests which compel the seal to seek a
188 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
shelter from their fury; at such times the storm-beaten
animal utters a wailing cry, so like that of an infant as to
deceive the fishermen’s wives. Of course, these cases of seal
domestication are rare, but even these few are sufficient to in-
dicate the capacities of the creature. Some have even been
taught to obey words of command, to stand up, lie down,
give a paw like a dog, and to perform other feats mdicating
the possession of superior teachable capacities. All their
senses are highly developed. ‘The eye is remarkably keen,
and the seal can shorten the axis of vision by bringing the
crystalline lens nearer to the back of the eye when the
animal is on the land. These cetacea are also quick of
hearing, and appear to possess an acute sense of smell.
With these endowments it may easily be understood that
all the species of this family can hunt the most active fish,
as surely as trained hounds can pursue the fox or the stag.
All are characterised by intense affection for their young.
The great elephant seal (Macrorhinus),* and the species
called the ‘‘sea lion,” will lose their lives in defence of the
“cubs” if unable to carry them off. The formidable walrus
seals, armed with mighty tusks, though less intelligent than
the common seals, show a high degree of energy when
attacked, even attempting to rescue their wounded com-
panions, and tearing the oars with their mouths from the
hands of the sailors in the assaulting boats.
The dolphins, called also ‘‘ white whales,” are noted for
their social habits, living in large societies, which swim round
ships and boats with surprising speed. ‘The elegant shape,
graceful motions, whitish colour, and the singular smallness
of their blue eyes, cause even the utilitarian whalers to
* The word denotes Jong nose, the allusion being to the trunk on
the head of this seal.
CETACEA, 7 189
regard these cetacea as the beauties of the sea: The in-
telligence of the dolphin calls for no special remark, as they
possess the same amount of energy, and manifest a lke
care for the young, which distinguish the other genera of
the order. Why the dolphin should have been so far
honoured in old times as to give the title of Dauphin* to
the elder sons of the kings of France, and to bestow a name
on one of the provinces of that country, is not very evident.
As the broom plant in the cap of the Earl of Anjou may
have originated the surname plantagenet, sco the dolphin
symbol on the helmet of Guy, Count of Vienne, may be
the source of the once famous titie of Dauphin. If the
historian is thus reminded of the dolphin, the animal is
also fated to live in the records of literature and the annals
of astronomy. The scholar will not forget the ‘ delphin
classics,” and the constellation “‘ Delphinus” compels even
science to remember a cetacean so strangely thrown amongst
the stars.
The porpoise is, probably, equal to the dolphin in in-
telligence, though it has failed to gain the “threefold
honours” of the latter. It is devoted to its young, an
energetic and keen hunter of fish, eminently social, and
distinguished for courage.
Looking over the various families of the cetacea, who
can say that any one is deficient in the faculties required by
the peculiar structure and wants of each? But it they
possess the affections, courage, energy, and skill suited to
their modes of life, we must then place them amongst the
intelligent though lower orders of the mammalia.
* French for dolphin ; the Latin is delphinus.
THE MARSUPIALIA.
Few readers need to be informed that a certain number of
animals are thus named from the pouch (Latin, marsupium)
in which the immature young are received after birth. The
opossums,. flying squirrels, and kangaroos are well-known
animals of this order. This remarkable section of the
great mammalia class seems, at the first view, most unlikely
to furnish examples of animal intelligence. But what is our
test of this faculty in what are called brute creatures? Do
we expect them to imitate our works, to act in our modes,
and, in a word, to exhibit something like Auman reason?
This is surely not very rational in us. Why should
animals differing in structure from ourselves be expected
to act like man? ‘The true question seems to be this: Do
those creatures adapt their special organs and capacities to
the various circumstances in which they are placed? Do
they use their peculiar tools in the best possible way? If
the answer must be in the affirmative, then how can the
inference that the lower animals possess an intelligence
suited to their modes of life be avoided? Probably few
would deny this general statement, yet many persons seem
almost terrified at the notion of a dog reasoning or an
elephant showing judgment or prudence. The more our
_ knowledge of the animal kingdom is extended, the more
abundant do the proofs of a widely diffused intelligence in
all orders, genera, and species become. We may hide this
great fact under the word zmstinct, but if there are human
instincts united with a high understanding in man, why
THE MARSUPIALIA. IQgI
should we shrink from admitting that special instincts may
be combined with a lower order of intelligence in such
creatures as the kangaroo and opossum ?
We pass over, in this place, the peculiarities presented
by the singular pouch of the marsupial-animals, and limit
our observations to the manifestations of intelligence given
by the various genera. No reader will expect from these
creatures the sagacity of the dog or the capacity of the
horse. ‘The talents of the marsupials are suited to their
wants, and these are not very various or numerous. The
kangaroo has been called “stupid,” and, doubtless, when
compared with the imitative ape or the active tiger, the
animal appears somewhat sheepish. The keepers of kanga-
roos have thought that these creatures fail to recognise their
attendants, and attribute this to feeble perceptions or want
of memory. It is, however, impossible for these men to
know what view the imprisoned kangaroo takes of its gaolers:
its sedateness is no proof of dulness. The brain is cer-
tainly deficient in that peculiar band of nervous matter
called the corpus callosum, which connects, in other mam-
malia, the two hemispheres of the cerebrum, or outer brain.
On this account, Professor Owen has placed all the marsu-
pials in an order named Zymcephala.* Whatever intelligence
the kangaroo has must be inferred from its actions rather
' than from unexplained peculiarities of the brain. The
creature, when first seen by Captain Cook and his party,
showed itself perfectly able to look after its own interests
and provide for its own safety. Those who, judging from
its sheepish air, thought dogs would soon capture such an
animal, were amazed at the activity and energy displayed by
the hunted creature. The speed of greyhounds was sorely
® Separated brains,
192 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
tried by an animal which leaped over obstacles eight feet
high. This style of going across a country by a succession
of the most surprising leaps, soon made both dogs and men
respect the racing powers of the kangaroo. Even should
the animal be brought to bay, it employs its natural weapons
of defence with a skill and determination admitting of no
dispute. The hind feet of the kangaroo are armed with
powerful claws, and the tail is so thick and powerful that
the creature can employ the organ as a strong prop to
support the body in an erect position. Now judge of the
intelligence with which these tools and weapons are used.
The animal stands at bay, the dogs rush on ; but, see! the
kangaroo raises one of its powerful hind feet, and, with a
sweep of the limb, nearly tears open the body of the fore-
most dog by means of the knife-like claw. The animal is
perfectly aware of the power of its armed foot; and if the
creature had the reasoning powers of a Newton, it could
not use the weapon more efficiently. This does not arise
from any natural tendency to strike at objects with the hind
foot. The animal is naturally timid and peaceful, showing
its energies and powers of resistance only when driven to
fight in self-defence. The value of the tail as a helper in
the conflict is felt by the kangaroo. When the hind foot is
raised to strike the foe, the animal would be supported on
one foot only, for the front legs are too short to give any
aid in steadying the creature’s body when it strikes at the
enemy. Without the support of the tail the animal must
certainly fall, and the dogs would then have an easy victory.
But when the hind foot is raised to deal the blow, the strong
and muscular tail is so placed as to prop up in a most
effectual manner this fighting “ Australian sheep.” ‘There
is nothing “stupid” in this use of the natural organs.
THE MARSUPIALIA. 193
The management of the young by the kangaroo mother
proves the possession not only of affection but of intelli-
gence. The young one, when born, is only about an inch
long, and is in all respects an undeveloped animal. The
mother seems to be perfectly aware of this, carefully places
the infant in the pouch, and guides it to her breast, to which
the little thing immediately clings. Thus enclosed in this
singular living bag, the infant kangaroo is carefully tended
by the mother for about nine months. By that time the
young one has grown into a fine, active baby, weighing
about twelve pounds, and able to get in and out of the
pouch without the parent’s help. When experimenting
naturalists have gently separated the young from the nipple,
the mother has found the means of replacing the little
creature’s mouth on the source of nourishment. The young
one is for some time too feeble to crawl up from the bottom
of the pouch to the nipple, and must be placed there by the
soft fleshy lips of the mother. She has been seen on these
occasions to open the pouch with her fore-paws, and thrust
in her long slender head, doubtless with the object of pro-
perly fixing the young one. It will be seen, therefore, that
the kangaroo has an intelligence which guides the animal to
use well its means of defence, and to adapt itself to the
peculiar circumstances in which naturalists have sometimes.
placed captured individuals. Sydney Smith’s humorous
description of the kangaroo has, of course, a slight touch of
exaggeration: “A monstrous animal, as tall as a grenadier,
with the head of a rabbit, a tail as big as a bed post, hop-
ping along at the rate of five hops to a mile, with three or
four pose. kangaroos looking out of the pouch to see what
is passing.”
The words “as tall as a consti may pass, as the
N
194 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
animal’s body equals in size that of a sheep, and has been
known to weigh about 140 lbs. The “five hops to a mile”
are, of course, beyond the powers of the most energetic of
kangaroos, and “‘ the four young looking out of the pouch”
may be reduced to one, that being the usual number of the
family.
Another marsupial animal, the opossum, is not much
larger than a common cat, but was called by some of the
earlier American travellers “the wonder of all the land
animals,” and one sums up his description by the pithy
remark, “If a cat has nine lives, this creature surely has
nineteen.” The reason assigned for this statement was
that an opossum would live though “every bone in its skin”
were broken. The reason given has one defect : it is not
true. The ingenuity with which the Virginian opossum
avoids the snares and baffles the stratagems of the hunter,
has long made it famous in the annals of forest life. It
may be “ stupid” when a prisoner, but there is no doubt of
the acuteness of the wild animal. It is positively stated
that a captured opossum will feign death, remaining perfectly
passive, and to all appearance unconscious, in spite of the
pinches, kicks, and buffetings of the sceptical hunters. But
no sooner is the animal left on the ground alone, the
hunters hiding themselves behind trees, than the cool and
cunning creature darts off to the nearest tree, taking refuge
in the thick foliage of the loftiest branches. Was this the
result of mere nervous dread, producing inability to move,
or of a calculation by the animal that perfect quietude
would secure it from harm? The former can hardly be the
case, as the moment the opossum finds itself alone it darts
off with the utmost speed. On the other hand, it does see:n
almost beyond belief that a wild animal should have such
THE MARSUPIALIA. 195
command over its impulses as the theory of ‘‘ pretending to
be dead” supposes. ‘There is, however, abundant evidence
to lead us to the conclusion that many animals have ex-
hibited this wonderful degree of self-control, and there
is, therefore, no sufficient @ friori argument against its
possession by the “’cute opossum.” Such questions must
ever be decided by facts, independently of speculations
and prejudices.
The flying squirrel, or pefaurus, is another of the
“stupid” marsupialia, which shows, in all its movements,
that it knows how to make the very best use of its natural
organs. ‘This, all readers will bear in mind, is the true test
of animal intelligence. Now, we all know that the petaurus
does not fly, but only uses, in a most effective manner, the
loose skin which extends along the sides from the fore to
the hind legs. When the active creature leaps from tree to
tree in the gloom of the evening, the action of the extended
limbs causes the folds of the skin to expand like a para-
chute, by which the “flying squirrel” is able to support
itself in the air, when making its extraordinary bounds from
one distant branch to another. The due calculation of
distances, the proper expansion of the extensible skin,
according to the support required, and the adaptation
of the parachute power to sudden emergencies, cannot be
reasonably attributed to mere animal impulse.
Thus we find, even in these lower forms of mammalian
life, those exhibitions of energy and skilful use of natural
tools which indicate an intelligence observant of circum-
stances and qualified to use them rightly.
THE EDENTATA.
ANT-EATER:— SLOTH—ECHIDNA—ARMADILLO—AARD-VARK—
ORNITHORHYNCHUS.
Tuis order of animals is thus named from the absence of
the front teeth in the jaw. ‘This is no defect*in these crea-
tures, but an adaptation of structure to their mode of life.
They do not rank high in intelligence, but we may find
undoubted marks of prudence and acuteness in some of the
genera. Readers will probably remember that the gigantic
megatherium* which inhabited the ancient earth is placed
in this singular order by the scientific students of ancient
living forms. The edentata are thus connected with the
primeval quadrupeds which roamed over the plains of earth
when there was “not a man to till the ground.”
The great ant-eater (AZyrmecophaga jubata), about the
size of a large dog, is often described as most “stupid,” the
chief evidence being that the animal cannot run very fast,
the peculiar form of the feet preventing rapid motion. But
as the creature is not intended to be a racer, it is as un-
reasonable to call it dull on this ground as it would be to
term men fools because they are unable to fly. Let us
watch the mode in which the ant-eater obtains a dinner, and
then say how, with its peculiar structure, it could act more
intelligently. The reader will bear in mind that this animal,
sometimes called the ant-bear, has no teeth, but possesses
a long muzzle, an extensible tongue, and powerful claws.
* Great animal,
THE EDENTATA. 197
Now, in what manner shall the animal obtain its food? It
cannot masticate vegetables; to tear and rend fleshy sub-
stances is still more out of the question. But in the wide
plains of South America the white ants swarm, and erect
their mound-like nests in hundreds on the swampy savan-
nahs. ‘The ant-eater knows that these hills contain his only
possible food; but how shall he capture enough of such
insects to make a dinner for himself? He has his weapons,
and he knows how to use them. The animal approaches an
ant-hill ; the mud-walls of the insect nest are baked by the
tropical sun into a dry and stone-like mass; but the ant-
eater quickly scratches a hole in the side with his powerful
and hook-like claws. When the breach is made, the enraged
ants pour out to inflict punishment on the invader of their
home. ‘This is precisely what the ant-eater wishes. No
sooner do the irritated insects swarm out beyond the open-
ing, than the cunning assailant lengthens his elastic tongue,
and, projecting it far beyond the end of his mouth, draws the
organ over the thick crowds of ants. Hundreds stick to the
glutinous tongue, and are instantly swallowed. The clever
operation is repeated again and again, until the ant-eater is
satisfied with his dinner, when he soberly retreats to his
hole, and goes to sleep. The reader will not, we think, be
able to point out any blunder in the whole of this pro-
ceeding. The suitable food is sought in the proper place,
and it is obtained in the only way possible. The ant-eater
must be aware that his tongue is covered with a gummy
fluid which not only takes up the ants, but protects the
organ from the bites of the insects. Were time allowed to
the ants, they would soon extricate themselves, or at least
pierce through the thin glutinous coating of the tongue.
Their foe seems perfectly aware of this, and accordingly
198 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
retracts his elastic organ with such rapidity that in the space
of one second it is twice drawn into the mouth covered with
the ants. We must admit that the ant-eater uses his special
tools well—that is to say, with intelligence.
The ant-eaters are the only true edentata, not having
any teeth in their long tube-like mouth, while other genera
of the order have both molar and canine teeth.
The echidna, or Australian hedgehog, captures the ants
with its elongated tongue in the same way as the ant-eater.
The singularly clever manner in which this little animal
employs its tongue to sweep insects into a heap, and then
collect them on the glutinous organ, may well suggest high
notions of its intelligence. This spine-covered edentata is,
however, but little known, and further knowledge of its
peculiar habits are necessary before we can form a definite
judgment of its character.
The sloth, or ai, another genus of the edentate order,
received its common English name from those who were
ignorant of its habits. When seen upon the ground, it is
indeed a ‘“sloth;” and Buffon may well be pardoned for
the doleful ditty in which he bemoans the woes of the sloth,
though he himself would not, possibly, have appeared to
great advantage had he been suspended in the air or sub-
merged in the Seine. Yet this would be almost as natural to
man as the ground to the sloth. Those who have seen the
creature in the forest during a tempest of wind, as the animal
springs from branch to branch and tree to tree with all the
activity of a squirrel, will admire the energy and skill with
which it clings, dack downwards, to the rocking branches.
To Mr. Waterton is due the honour of clearly describing the
natural habits of the sloth, which some naturalists had almost
regarded as a sad specimen of defective organisation. Here
THE EDENTATA. 199
is another instance of our tendency to hasty generalisation
respecting animals. We see a creature under artificial con-
ditions ; it then appears puzzled and dull, and we cry, “‘ How
stupid!” Further knowledge shows the supposed dullard to
be an energetic and sprightly being. This lesson will have
to be repeated in a thousand forms before we shall generally
become conscious of the wide range of animal intelligence.
No museums, however rich in collections, can give much
instruction on this point ; the living animals must be seen
and watched. Even zoological gardens will fail to give the
full lesson ; it is in their natural haunts and unrestrained
modes of life that the intelligence of animals is manifested.
Hence the great importance attached to the observations of
travelling naturalists, who alone have the opportunities of
seeing animal life in all the varieties of native freedom.
England and America boast of many such, whose labours
are destined to clear away many an error which hides from
our view the fulness and variety of animal intelligence.
Had zoologists not advanced beyond the facts known to
Buffon, we should have been still repeating the story of the
sloth’s stupidity or unhappy organisation. Even now we
only see enough to prove that the old notions are wrong,
and we await further knowledge respecting a quadruped fitted
to live in trees, and sleeping with back downwards.
The armadillo is, of course, too rarely examined in this
country for us to become at all familiar with its habits. The
animal is by no means the listless creature which a hasty
glance might lead us to suppose. Its skill and energy in
burrowing are truly remarkable, the hole being mined with
a rapidity which might excite the envy of an engineer. In
order to obtain some grain lying on the ground, under a
cover, an armadillo drove his trench beneath the ground so
EE Ee
200 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
as to come exactly under the spot where the coveted food
was lying. The subterranean tunnel borer did not deviate
an inch to the right or to the left. Here was a special plan
devised and carried out with a definite purpose in view.
One species of armadillo (the JZataco), when attacked, rolls
itself up so firmly as to defy all attempts to pierce the body.
Its patience is unconquerable, and it will preserve its rounded
shape until convinced that the danger has passed.
The aard-vark (Orycteropus),* or “earth-pig” of Cape
Colony, is allied both to the armalilloes and the ant-eaters,
resembling the former in structure, and the latter in its
mode of procuring ants for food. In the silence of night the
aard-vark bores into the sides of the huge ant-hill, and,
thrusting its tongue into the hole, receives upon the extended
member successive swarms of ants.
We must not omit to notice here that singular animal
known as the duck-bill, or water-mole, of Australia ; and in
scientific treatises called Ornithorhynchus.t An animal with
the mouth of a duck, the body of a quadruped, and dis-
tinguished by some extraordinary peculiarities of structure,
might well occupy us in describing its marvellous organisa-
tion. But we have mentioned the creature in this place
simply with the view of calling attention to the fact that this
singular animal is not without intelligence. It is quick of
eye and ear, and cautious must the rifleman be who hopes
to shoot this “mole” as it swims across a river. The
animal rivals our mole in engineering skill, making a tunnel
above ten feet long in the bank of a stream, and forming
a warm nest at the end of the passage. The “ combing
* Aard-vark is Dutch for earth-pig ; Orycteropus is Greek for a
_ digging foot.
{ Bird-beaked.
THE EDENTATA. 201
of the fur” shows, in no small degree, the ingenuity of the
animal. The hind foot is provided with a claw, at first
supposed to be a dangerous weapon, but now ascertained to
form a part of the creature’s toilet apparatus. The claw is
really a comb, with which the hairs of the fur are neatly
smoothed and separated by the duck-bill, which seems
especially anxious to keep its coat in good condition.
We now conclude this chapter by asking the reader to
point out any one of the above-named edentata which can
be called stupid. Each uses its natural weapons in the best
way. But is not this intelligence ?
THE RODENTIA.
THE rodentia, such as hares, rabbits, and rats, have two long
cutting front teeth to each jaw, and generally three or four
molar teeth. A vacant space, similar to that in the lower jaw
of a horse, separates their incisors from their molars. The
number of genera of this order is very considerable, and not
less than four hundred species are known; amongst them are
the squirrels, marmots, beavers, the field-mouse (to which the
musk-rat of India belongs), the rats, the jerboa or jumping
rat, the Columbian rats, which have the eyes hidden under
the skin, the moles, porcupines, agouti, the Indian hog, and
the cavey.
Hares and rabbits are also rodentia; but they differ
from those already named, inasmuch as they have at the
back of their upper incisors a pair of teeth smaller and
differently formed. ‘This characteristic is found amongst
the lagomys, or “calling hare,” a small rodent of Alpine
regions now unknown in Western Europe, but which was
found here during the first part of the tertiary geological
period.
There are found in the neighbourhood of Paris fossil
remains of these rodents, with those of the marmot and
hamsters, animals no longer existing in France, but which
were formerly innumerable, and lived together with certain
species still remaining, such as the dormice and field-mice.
The rodentia are usually timid, and addicted to gnawing
vegetable substances. ‘They are most of them small, though
THE RODENTIA. 203
one of the class, the Patagonian cavey, is as large as a pig.
The porcupine, beaver, marmot, hare, and rabbit belong to
the larger kinds. Their hind legs, and the hinder part of
the body, are generally stronger than the fore part. They
run and jump well, have a snout more or less curved, a
mouth moderately open, and the upper lip generally cloven
perpendicularly, a peculiarity very visible in the hare. Their
hearing is generally keen, the length of the ears being pro.
portioned to the use the animal must make of them for
safety. The burrowers have very small ears; those which
live on tne banks of rivers or streams, and swim much,
such as the beaver and water-rat, have short round ears,
which moye but little ; the rats, mice, rabbits, and hares,
animals which escape danger by flight, have, on the con-
trary, the ear well developed. The head is flat; the neck
is generally short, and always consists of seven vertebra.
Their eyes are placed at the sides of the head, and are
more or less developed according to the habits of the
animal. Thus, in rabbits, hares, pole-cats, and dormice, they
are large and projecting ; in rats, squirrels, and some other
species, they are of a moderate size ; in the large field-mouse
and mole, which pass a great part of their life under
ground, they are very small; in the spalax or Columbian
rat, which never leaves its subterranean abode, they are
but imperfectly formed.
Their brain is much more imperfect than that of the
other mammalia. From the organisation of these animals,
it is easy to infer the amount of their intelligence, which
is generally less than that of the ruminants, the pachyder-
mata, carnivora, and quadrumana. One cause of the slow
zrowth of the intellect in a certain number of rodents
is the variableness of their temperature. Certain of them
ON
et eet ee eee
204 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
resemble reptiles in the lowering of their temperature
when the weather becomes colder. Immediately the tem-
perature begins to fall in a sensible degree, and more par-
ticularly when their food is beginning to fail, the marmots
and dormice go into a torpid state; their organs scarcely
act at all, but are not wholly suspended ; the circulation
is much enfeebled, and the respiratory combustion has
lost a great portion of its intensity. A marmot which in
a state of activity burns above one grain of carbon each
hour for every two pounds of its weight, does not consume
more than the thirtieth part of a grain when it has fallen
into its winter sleep. Thus the temperature of these animals
lowers very considerably. Spallanzani even maintains that
a torpid marmot does not require to breathe at all, and
that it could be plunged into poisonous gas and not perish.
This lowering of the circulation, respiration, and tem-
perature, necessarily produces slowness in the cerebral
activity, but this phenomenon is the exception amongst
the rodentia, and we shall see that intelligence is tolerably
developed in these animals.
The species are mostly herbivorous, timid, and fearful,
they have no means of defence, and only find safety in
flight. Some whose food is of a mixed kind—both animal
and vegetable—as the rats, are often very ferocious.
The strong incisor teeth of the rodents are admirably
formed for the purpose of cutting through the hardest
substances. These teeth are, in truth, natural chisels, so
organised as always to preserve a sharp edge. The beauty
of the contrivance is that the very action of this tool, in-
stead of blunting, tends to preserve its keenness. The
front part of the tooth is of enamel, the hinder section of
bone. The latter part, being the softer, soon wears down
THE RODENTIA. 205
by the friction of the teeth in cutting, thus leaving the razor-
like edge of the enamel in front. So it happens that work
actually sharpens instead of blunting these admirably de-
signed cutting instruments. The most scientific edge-tool
makers form their instruments on the principles of construc-
tion seen in the teeth of rodents. The skilful combination
of hard and soft iron leads to the same result as the union
of the enamel with bone in the teeth of these animals.
But the best chisel made by man cannot reproduce itself,
whereas the cutting tools of the rodentia grow from the root
upwards as the top wears away. ‘These gnawing animals
are, then, provided with first-rate tools, and we shall pro-
bably find that the workmen are qualified to use them.
The jumping power possessed by nearly all the animals
of this order will be seen to arise from their peculiar organi-
sation. The muscles and bones of the hind legs are, in
general, much stronger than those of the front, and thus the
mouse makes with ease those bounds which often defeat
the energetic spring of the cat.
The brains of the rodentia are marked by one peculiarity.
The elevated lines of nervous matter, called convolutions,
which characterise the brains of man, and most of the mam-
malia, are almost absent in the cerebral mass of the rodents.
No conclusion can be safely drawn from this conformation
unfavourable to the intelligence of these animals. Some of
them are far too acute for us to infer imbecility from the
mere smoothness of the brain’s surface.
It may be right to notice that animals of the rodent
order were numerous in the ancient geological ages, long
prior to the human period. Heaps of their bones, preserved
beneath diluvial beds of earth, have been discovered in the
rocks of both the Eastern and Western continents.
EEE PIE
RATS.
ATTACHMENT OF RATS FOR EACH OTHER.—THEIR FORE-
SIGHT, SKILL, AND CUNNING.—THE POLISH LEGEND.—
INTELLIGENCE IN MICE, LEMMINGS, MARMOTS, AND
JERBOAS.
Most naturalists have placed rats amongst the obnoxious
animals. The rat is, however, a domestic animal, and loves
human abodes, is fond of dwelling amongst the poor, and
much prefers a ruined house, with its walls of mud and clay,
to the palace of a king. Some writers think its habits are
patriarchal, and fancy its long, white beard, prominent eye-
brows, quick and penetrating eyes, and saturnine manner,
give it a respectable and noble aspect !
The rat is associated with every period in the history
of mankind. This animal has followed armies, and joined
in great maritime expeditions, while all invading hordes
have brought a particular kind of rat in their train. We
can thus, in the different varieties of this creature, trace the
succession of the human races established on the surface
of every territory.
The brown rat appeared in England about the year
1736, but whether brought from Russia or India is dis-
puted. It is simply a fable that it reached this country with
George I. It has been sometimes called the Norway rat,
but with little reason, as it is but a colonist there. This
rat has now become a veritable plague to Great Britain,
where it has devoured all the other kinds. The rat, like
RATS FOLLOWING AN ARMY.
et tere eAewee Sapient ee
OS Ae RRR
= a a a oe
hs
ist Hy
o A{h |
UT
RATS. 209
the barbarian, is sometimes a scourge, which God sends
amongst civilised nations, to warn them, and punish them
for their errors. According to some writers, the rat has
been commissioned, more than once, with the execution of
divine sentences, and occupies, on this account, an im-
portant place in the destinies of humanity.
“Tt was the field-mouse of Egypt,” says one, “which
destroyed the army of Sennacherib, by devouring all the
cords of the bows and fastenings of the shields belonging
to the Assyrians, during the night.”
Pliny has filled an entire chapter of his eighth book, in
relating the history of cities destroyed by the ravages of
animals. The rat may have played an important part in
these overthrows, both before and after the time of Pliny,
but it rather completed the ruin than began it. The fate of
the Archbishop of Mayence is narrated by some sensational
writers, who describe him as dragged from his tower into
the middle of the Rhine, and drowned by a horde of rats,
which did not retreat until they had destroyed the name
and image of this impious man from the tapestry by means
of their teeth !
Notwithstanding some evidences of the rapacity of the
rat and its taste for human flesh, examples are related of
true attachment in these animals, not only for their own
species but also towards man. ‘The rat is not insensible
to good treatment, but attaches himself to persons who feed
and pet him. Prisoners especially have borne witness to
this fact. Rats are also clever and intelligent workmen ;-
they construct their dwellings with skill; the smallest are
inhabited by one family only, while the larger ones contain
several. ‘Their sagacity is especially displayed in the choice
of the place where they take up their abode. They build
O
210 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
their houses in marshes, or by the sides of lakes and
rivers, which have a wide reach, and of which the bed is
shallow and the water sluggish. They choose the most
elevated part of these lands for their habitations, so that the
rising waters may not annoy them; if their dwelling is too
low, they raise it; they also arrange it in gradations, to
enable them to mount from story to story, as the water
rises. When this dwelling is intended for seven or eight
rats, it is generally about two feet square, and is made
larger in proportion to the number it has to contain; it
has also as many apartments as there are families. All these
arrangements show marks of intelligence; but there are
yet others. :
It is well known how cleverly rats can swim. ‘They cross
rivers to procure food from houses and gardens, and generally
make the passage at break of day, for fear of being detected.
The following incident proves the cunning of this animal.
A number of rats had taken up their abode near a dog-
kennel, in which was lodged a great many pointers. The
food of the latter was put into narrow troughs, and the rats
were accustomed to come and partake of the dinner with
the dogs, which, trained for higher game, despised these
little mean gnawers. ‘The latter, seeing no danger, came in
such numbers that they devoured the daily food of the dogs,
and the master of the kennel resolved to destroy these
marauders. With this intention he made a hole in the wall,
at the end of each trough, and placed in the openings the
muzzle of a loaded gun, so as to destroy the rats at one
blow. At the usual feeding-hour he stationed a servant at
each gun ready to fire. Having securely locked up the
dogs, he gave the signal for putting the food into the troughs,
and retired to the kennel, intending to wait until the rats
RATS. 72S
were so much occupied in the trough that they might all be
killed by a single discharge. He waited patiently for a long
time, but not a single rat appeared. Having allowed the
food to remain for about
an hour without seeing
any rats, he released the
dogs, who immediately
rushed at their dinner.
They had scarcely com-
mencedtheirrepast when
the rats showed them-
selves, and, as if they
knew they were being
guarded by the dogs,
kept their accustomed
place in the trough.
They had never before
dined with so good an
appetite. The intelli-
gence of the rat is such,
that if it has once es-
caped from a trap, it is
seldom caught again.
Many other examples
might be given to prove Rats attacking the Spirit Casks.
ime mextent, Of their
sagacity. Dr. Franklin tells us, that when rats gain admit-
tance into a vessel all goes well with them ‘so long as the
cargo is on board and they can procure plenty of water,
which is most necessary to them; but if it be too well
guarded for them to obtain it easily, they have recourse to
very extraordinary devices in order to procure some. During
©)
il
el
HH
rand
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212 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
a very rainy night they come on deck to drink; then they
climb the rigging to collect the water which they find in the
folds of the sails. If they are reduced to great extremity,
they attack the spirit casks, and drink so much that they are
unable to regaia their holes. Land rats gnaw even the
metal pipes which, in public-houses, conduct the alcoholic
liquors from the cask to the counter. All the race have
very finely-organised ears, to catch the sound of flowing
liquids. No doubt, the difficulty they find in procuring
water has, in several cases, induced them to leave the vessel
as soon as it touches the land.
Examples of the sagacity of rats are too numerous to
mention. The ingenious devices by which they often secure
coveted food have every mark of reasoning. They have often
found eggs stored up by careful housewives in a dry loft at
the top of a house, and have actually contrived to carry the
eggs down whole flights of stairs to their holes in a deep
cellar. ‘This feat has been watched by angry householders
anxious to counteract the stratagems of the wily _plunderers.
According to the statements of these observers, the rats ap-
pear to have skilfully combined to aid each other in lower-
ing the eggs, one by one, down every separate stair. ‘Their
mouths and fore-paws were the principal means employed in
the operation. Two rats have even been watched as they
were conveying an egg wf-stairs ; in which bit of engineering
one animal pushed or raised up the egg, and the other
received it. On another occasion the rats formed a line,
passing the egg along from one to the other. When a
number of men form a line to hand buckets of water rapidly
along, we call the act a rational proceeding: why should not
a like combination be deemed a sign of intelligence in these
animals? Rats have also been detected in the act of ex-
RATS. ome
tracting salad oil from the long and narrow necks of Florence
flasks. One of the animals wrenched out the cork; then
the same, or a companion, dipped his long tail into the
flask ; the others instantly licked the delicious oil off the
soaked tail, and by repeated dippings of this kind the flask
was soon almost emptied. Mr. Buckland mentions*a case
in which the rats combined to rob.an old lady of her wine.
The cask was placed in a cellar, and before many nights
had passed the most extraordinary and even unearthly
sounds were heard in the lower parts of the house. What
_ could be the matter? Ghosts were suggested, as the sim-
plest solution of the difficulty ; but ghosts had never intruded
before, and the lady had done nothing to attract such visitors.
She was, however, determined to resist such an invasion on
her domestic peace, and called in not spiritual but earthly
forces, in the shape of her labourers, servants, and a fierce
dog. ‘The rustic troops being armed with hay-forks, the
housemaid carrying a large hand-bell, and the bold mistress
herself having two huge loaded pistols on a table before her,
the whole party awaited the attack of the supernatural hosts.
Strange as it may appear, no spirits came, though such beings
are supposed to hold carnal weapons in the most supreme
contempt. However, if the unwelcome visitants did really
return, they conducted themselves in a quiet and respectable
manner, the horrid sounds being heard no more. The day
at length arrived when some of the wine was wanted fora
festive gathering; the cask was visited, and a moment’s
glance showed a burglary of the most shameful kind. The
bung had been gnawed through, and then, when the wine
had sunk down to that level, the wood below was bored
through. - There was no mistaking the teeth marks; no
human tool would have left such peculiar cuttings on the
214 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
perforated staves. Not a quart of the wine remained, and it
was evident that the rats had actually got into the cask and
sipped the liquid to almost the last drop. The outcries had
doubtless been caused by the swarms engaged in piercing
the cask ; afterwards their enjoyment of such a rare treat
kept the felonious epicures quiet enough. Much wine was
wasted by running out of the holes; but this was probably
licked up from the cellar-floor by the eager topers. The
cask itself was immediately raised to the highest honours,
being secured by Mr. Buckland and placed in his museum
as a memorial, not only of rat ingenuity in combining
for a common end, but of the wine-bibbing tastes of the
animals.
Rats will also combine to attack their foes, and have
been known to drive off even dogs when these were wanting
in thorough-bred courage. The rats in the well-known fable
were not able to procure one of their number to volunteer
n “belling the cat ;” but Mr. Rodwell mentions a case in
which a fine cat was almost torn to pieces and killed by a
concerted attack of these animals. Puss had long been
famous as a rat-killer, but one night a very army of the foe
must have suddenly sprung upon Grimalkin, and over-
powered the hero.
Few would suppose the rat cane of being tamed, but
some cases of this kind have occurred. These educated rats
have followed their keepers about with all the fidelity of a
spaniel. To train these animals so as to act in a theatre is,
perhaps, not more wonderful than to teach fleas to perform
the military drill, but it supplies one more proof of intelli-
gence in such creatures. ‘The rats in question displayed
their talents before a Belgian audience, and were dressed
up in miniature human clothing, in which they acted the
RATS. 215
parts of fine ladies and gentlemen. The whole perform-
ance was appropriately concluded by the hanging of a cat
in effigy, round which the rats wheeled in a grand triumphal
march !
The patience of the rat-destroyer is often severely tested
by the caution of the animals. To no purpose is the trap
set, in vain the poison is laid, if a human ungloved hand has
touched either. The rat detects, by his acute sense of smell,
the odour of the fingers, and the trap should, therefore, be
touched with a perfumed glove or cloth. The poisoned food
is placed on spots to which the rats are gradually enticed by
the presence of rags dipped in oil of rhodium or in pre-
parations of musk, carraway, or aniseed. When they have
become used to these places, and fed on bits of refuse meat,
tallow, &c., they will collect in great numbers, and, losing
all fear, will then eat the poisoned food. Nothing but
patience and tempting food, carefully left for a time, will
succeed in lulling their marvellous suspicions.
The belief that these animals are sometimes employed
as agents of Divine justice has given rise to a Polish legend,
in which it is said that King Popiel poisoned his uncles,
and threw their dead bodies into a lake. ‘These corpses
attracted an enormous number of rats, which afterwards
attacked the king, his wife, and children. Nothing could
stop their desperate fury; the servants vainly endeavoured
to destroy them with fire and weapons. At last all the
king’s family sought refuge in a strong hold; but the rats
pursued them even there, and, in the end, killed the king
and all belonging to him, in the Castle of Kruszwic.
Mice must not be entirely passed over, although their
ingenuity be not quite so astonishing as that of the rat.
Mrs. Lee gives an account of the persevering skill with
%
216 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
which a colony of mice attempted to get at some dainty
food placed under a heavy metal dish cover. Unable to get
to the top, from the smoothness of the surface, they actually
formed a living ladder, some mounting on the shoulders of
others. When this was accomplished nothing was gained,
and the little creatures then tried to insert their small legs
under the edge of the cover in order to raise it a little, but
the weight was too great, and they only got several ugly
pinches for their pains. The plan was, however, evidently
dictated by intelligence. Mr. Jesse records an attempt suc-
cessfully made by a mouse to reach the top of a honey pot.
The closet containing the prize had some loose mortar and
plaster lying in a corner, and of this the clever mouse used to
construct a mound against the smooth side of the jar. This
enabled the cunning workman to mount to the top of the
vessel and attack the honey. But the getting out of the pot
seems to have been nearly as difficult as getting in, and the
mouse therefore made in the inside an inclined plane of
the mortar, up which it could easily run when its appetite
was satisfied. What but intelligence could have suggested
this effective mode of accomplishing the object? The
double-inclined plane showed deszgn on its face.
A story had been told by an Icelandic naturalist of the
amazing sagacity shown by mice in crossing rivers when
searching for food. The statement was that eight or ten of
these mice would collect a piece of thin turf or dry cow-
dung, then, dragging it to the edge of a stream, all get upon
the novel raft, sitting with their heads turned to the centre
and their tails in the water, and thus, using their tails both
for oars and rudder, get across. The story sounded to
some very much like an invention, others were disposed
to belief, and Pennant, in his great work, “The Arctic
RATS, | 217
Zoology,” took the latter side. The unbelievers received
great support, on the other hand, from Dr. Hooker's “Tour
in Iceland,” in which the migrating skill of the mice was
denied. But surely, thought Dr. Henderson, a simple
question of fact can be answered in some distinct manner.
He made close inquiries among intelligent Icelanders
respecting mice navigators, and gives the names of educated
residents who had themselves seen the animals in the very
act of making their singular voyages. If these facts be
admitted, the inevitable conclusion must be that these Ice-
landic mice act, In some cases at least, on rational prin-
ciples.
Our pretty little harvest mouse, the smallest of English
quadrupeds, shows no small ingenuity in suspending its
nest to corn stalks or thistle stems. Let any one inspect
one of these compactly platted little nests. Mark the first-
rate style in which the small opening is formed, and note
the endurance of the structure, which may be rolled to and
fro like a ball without losing the “cricket ball” shape. The
examiner cannot fail to be struck with the skill shown in the
construction of the mouse cradle, which often gives shelter
to seven or eight young. Some of the nests lose their
shape by handling, but these are generally formed of soft
grass, cut into short pieces by the maker’s teeth, and
admirably woven together.
The extraordinary living bridges formed by the lemmings
of Norway, in order to cross rivers, demands a moment’s
attention. The reader is, doubtless, aware that these rat-like
animals sometimes emigrate from their homes in the Nor-
wegian mountains in such countless myriads as to lay the
whole country waste through which they pass. Sometimes
the vast army come to a river. There is no time for pausing ;
i
:
|
218 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
the multitude behind force the van to advance. What is
done must be done quickly, and this is the scheme adopted
by these pontoon makers. A column of lemmings manage
to swim across the river, the rear ranks resting their heads
on the hinder parts of those in front. The foremost rank
of the column grips the earth or plants on the opposite
bank, and thus secures a fixed point of support for the
bridge. No sooner is the lemming column firmly fixed at
the front and rear, than the whole army rushes hastily across
on the backs of their companions, which thus form an
extemporised floating bridge. As these operations have
been recorded by eye-witnesses, we must receive the. state-
ment as furnishing another argument in favour of the
intelligence of the lower animals.
If the accounts given of the marmots are but partially
true, then these “ Alpine mice” must also be classed amongst
the intelligent rodents. Animals which form snug winter
homes in the earth, passing the cold season in societies of
about a dozen each, which actually “make hay” for them-
selves, their mouths being scythes and their paws the
turning machines, must take rank among “the wise crea-
tures” of the earth.
The jerboas, or jumping mice of Egypt and Asia, are not
only famous for their wonderful leaps of fifteen feet at a jump ;
they are remarkable also for the mode in which they lay up
stores against a time of want, forming complete magazines
of food. The particular point to be borne in mind is, that
the jerboas do not use the stores thus laid up as mere
instinct or appetite might direct: prudence and forethought
seem to be exercised. The food deposited in the granaries is
never touched while any supplies can be procured from the
fields. When these sources fail, then the closed magazines
RATS. 219
are opened. Sometimes the natives discover the stores and
carry off all the grain, leaving the jerboas to contend with
hunger or to perish.
We thus see that in rats, mice, lemmings, marmots, and
jerboas, gleams of intelligence appear, proving that some-
thing more than instinct is granted to these creatures. They
clearly are able to adapt means to ends, and devise schemes
suited to emergencies,
HARES AND RABBITS,
NatTuRE has bestowed upon the hare less sense than
many other animals, but, when pursued, it has recourse
to a degree of cunning capable of exciting the envy of the
fox. Huntsmen tell many well-attested stories which show
that even hares can vary their actions when circumstances
require. Some have been known to stop in a brownish-
tinted soil, and lie down between two clods which happened
to be nearly of the same colour as themselves. One has
been seen to swim into a bed of reeds in the midst of a
large body of water, and, having thrown out the dogs, to
have waited quietly till the pack went by. Hunted hares
will sometimes dash amongst a flock of sheep, and lie down,
with the evident object of thus concealing themselves. The
doubles of the hare are often of the most extraordinary kind.
The animals will jump on to a wall, run along the top, and
even try to creep into dense masses of ivy growing there.
They will run in and out of a thicket several times, as if
they knew that such a manceuvre must puzzle the harriers.
Wide rivers will not deter these usually timid creatures when
danger presses. Mr. Yarrell mentions one case of a hare
swimming above a mile across a tidal harbour. But the
time when the animal took the water indicated something
like powers of reflection. The hare waited on the shore
while the tide was running in, and, just as high-water was
reached, took its swim. The quadruped navigator was
HARES AND RABBITS. 221
evidently aware that if the journey were attempted during
the sct of the current, the motion of the flow or the ebb
tide would carry it past the exact point of land on which it
wished to land. The poet Cowper’s tame hares will occur
The Hare running in a Straight Line. The Rabbit Doubling Back.
to many readers as instances of the capacity of these usually
wild animals for some degree of domestication. But surely
this teachableness implies the possession of intelligence.
The rabbit, though much weaker than the hare, possesses
much more intelligence. A dog is very likely to take a hare
SS aa
222 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
in coursing, but a good rabbit sometimes can tire out the
best of dogs. The rabbit digs out his hole, chooses a mate,
and lives in society. He does not confine his interest to his
own family, but extends it to all the underground republic,
and to those creatures of his kind which share with him the
produce of the neighbourhood. When the rabbits leave their
burrow to feed, those which by experience are accustomed to
note alarms always divide their attention between their meal
and any peril likely to surprise them. If they think any
danger threatens, they give the alarm by striking the earth
with their hind-feet, and all the neighbouring burrows im-
mediately resound with these repeated strokes. The whole
tribe generally hastens to re-enter, but if there are any
younger and more imprudent rabbits, which do not heed
the first warnings, the old ones still continue striking, and
risking their own lives for the public safety.
George Leroy remarks that the propensity of rabbits
for burrowing is not purely mechanical, since those that
have been a long time domesticated do not attempt such
works. ‘They only think of doing so when the necessity of
protecting their weakness from cold and danger has forced
them to provide this shelter. ‘It is not, then, always from
a superior instinct,” adds this clever observer, “that some
species do things which indicate more sagacity than is
shown by others. It seems certain that if cold or other
inconveniences had not made the rabbit suffer more than
the hare, this animal would not take the trouble to burrow
ahole. People attribute that to its industry which is really
owing to its weakness.”
To work in concert for the purpose of making a
dwelling and lodging together is a new order of things
for beings formerly wandering without a dwelling. “It is
HARES AND RABBITS. 223
impossible,” says George Leroy, “that property should not
stimulate labour, and establish connections of neighbour-
hood. The idea of property 1s evident in rabbits. The
same families occupy the same holes without changing
them, and the dwelling increases according as the family
augments. They take a lively and courageous interest in
all animals of their species.”
THE BEAVER.
THE beaver is the animal whose instinct and intelligence
have been the most discussed. ‘It is,” says M. Flourens,
‘‘a mammiferous animal of the order rodentia, the order
which has the least intelligence. But it has a marvellous
instinct for constructing a hut, for building it in the water,
for making causeways, and forming dykes, and all this
with an industry which seems to be the effect of a
very high intelligence in this animal. But are its works
guided by intelligence? The essential point,” adds M.
Flourens, “is to prove that they are not so guided, and
this is what F. Cuvier has done. He took some very
young beavers, brought them up far from their parents,
which, consequently, could not teach anything to them.
These isolated, solitary beavers had been placed in a
cage, so that they should not want to build; yet these
beavers built, urged on by a blind, mechanical force, in one
word, by a pure instinct. This admirable industry which
the beaver displays in building its hut, is employed by it
for that purpose only.” In another place M. Flourens
speaks again of the instinct which springs from a natural
impulse, and he adds, that the beaver which F. Cuvier
studied was taken on the banks of the Rhone, was arti-
ficially suckled, and could not, therefore, have learned
anything from its parents. It was constantly fed with
branches of a willow, of which it ate the bark; and
THE BEAVER. 225
after having taken all the bark off the branches, it cut
them into pieces, and piled them up in a corer of
the cage: it was collecting materials for building. They
now furnished it with earth, straw, and branches of
trees, and saw it form little masses of earth with its fore
feet, then push them in front with the chin, move them
away with its mouth, place them one on the other, and
press them hard with its tail, till the result was one solid
mass. ‘But,’ says M. Flourens, “two facts must be
noted here: one, that this animal did not owe anything
to its own race, the first source, according to Buffon, of
the industry of the beavers; the other is, that this animal
works without an end, mechanically, forced by a blind
impulse. No good could result from the trouble which
it gave itself.’ It needed no house. Buffon will have it
that solitary beavers do not know how to undertake or con-
struct anything. Cuviers beaver undertook, constructed,
and built, but it was solitary.
“If we believe Buffon,” adds the learned academician,
“the beavers are perhaps the only examples which exist
of this species of intelligence in brutes, which, although
infinitely inferior to that of man, nevertheless supposes
common projects and views.” ‘The society of beavers,”
he says, “not being a forced union, must be a species
of choice, and supposes at least a general agreement and
coramon objects, and also a gleam of intelligence in the
beaver.” To this M. Flourens answers, that Buffon takes
the result of instinct for the result of intelligence. Buffon
and M. Flourens are both right, for an animal may be
forced, by its nature, to do something spontaneously, and
this act, which originally was only instinctive, may after-
wards be executed with intelligence. Is not this what we
p
226 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
frequently see among men? A child feels itself drawn to
some art; first, it exercises it instinctively and mechanically ;
later, it rors with intelligence. A beaver lived, some years
Beaver building a Wall.
ago, in the Museum
of Natural History at
Paris. They threw to
him, in his cage, vege-
tables, fruits, and also
branches to amuse him.
During the course of a
hard winter, the animal
had only a little litter
to protect it from the
cold, and the door of
its cage shut badly.
One night it was snow-
ing large flakes, and the
snow, driven by the
wind, accumulated in
a corner of the cage.
It was necessary to in-
vent a plan for protect-
ing itself from this new
inconvenience. The
only materials which
the poor beaver found
were branches of trees, which had been given to exercise its
faculty of gnawing. It now interlaced the branches in the
bars of its cage, just as a basket-maker would have done.
Before day came the beaver used up the litter, some carrots
and apples, and all it had at hand, fashioning the materials
with its teeth, and appropriating them to the vacant spaces,
THE BEAVER, 224
with the idea of filling them up. This protection from the
cold air not seeming sufficient, it covered all with snow,
which froze in the night, and by the next morning it was
found to have built a wall, occupying the two tiers of the
door. ‘This barricade made against the cold shows an
instinct for construction, and also denotes reflection and
intelligence. What other name, as Dr. Franklin has very
well said, can we give to a series of acts having for their
object the application of instinct to circumstances which
the animal had not foreseen ?
We could mention many other facts to prove that
Instinct may be the first impulse to an act, which later
becomes an intelligent work. M. Flourens, perhaps, only
insisted that the beaver had no intelligence because this
animal has not any cerebral circumvolutions !
Another fact will prove the intelligence of beavers.
We received it from M. Broca. Wherever beavers find
favourable conditions, they live in society, they build
villages, where each family has its hut; an admirable
construction, in which the art of the carpenter is allied
to that of the mason. The choice of place, the prepara-
tion of materials, the disposition of the causeway, the
building of the huts, are all witnesses to a really remarkable
intelligence. We are told, however, that the beaver is not
the inventor of all these things ; that nature having created
it sociable, an engineer, and a mason, it blindly obeys the
will of nature ; that it has always thus lived, and cannot live
otherwise. This opinion might have been supported three
or four centuries ago. It cannot be supported to-day, as the
beavers of some regions have adopted a mode of life totally
different.
Societies of beavers were found in France till the end of
P 2
.
DN en ee en SE eS eS et oe a
eee a ee 92 eee
228 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
the Middle Ages, in spite of the attacks of men. In 1801
there was a colony on the Elbe, near Kahnert; another in
1830, on the Nuthe, an affluent of the Elbe. As soon as
man brought to perfection his arms and weapons of the
chase, the beavers redoubled their prudence, cunning, and
sagacity, but they were forced at last to yield before fire-
arms. Social life was attended with too great dangers; the
sweets of association therefore had to be renounced.
Families dispersed, and not finding security in their huts,
which attracted the attention of man, the beavers sought
refuge in the crevices of cliffs which lined the banks of
streams.
Beavers inhabited the Vosges till near the end of the
17th century, and still exist in the mountainous districts
of Dauphiné, and on the banks of the Rhone. They
excavate habitations in the dykes of the river, and there
take refuge, where man cannot pursue them without de-
stroying his own works.
Thus the beaver did not only renounce social life, but
also adopted manners and habitations quite new, and created
an industry which was unknown to it, when at liberty to dis-
play its true nature. The mason became a miner; it first
constructed, next excavated, contrary to man’s custom, who
first hid himself in caves, and later, having nothing to fear
from savage beasts, constructed dwellings in the broad
daylight.
It must, therefore, be confessed that if the primitive
beavers, in adopting social life and building villages, were
only obeying blind instinct, the beavers on the banks of
the Rhone could not have adopted the means of now living
contrary to what is called nature, except by their intelligence
adapting itself to new requirements.
THE RUMINANTS.
RUMINANTS are animals like the ox and the cow, which
have the habit of “‘ chewing the cud.”
According to their cerebral organisation these mammalia
are superior to the rodents. They are the first animals in
which the brain hemispheres have circumvolutions, two
lobes covering the two pyramids and the two “ olivary”
bodies.* We know that the rodent does not often dis-
tinguish the man who takes care of it from any other man ;
the ruminant knows its master, though a change of the coat
often suffices, says M. Flourens, to prevent recognition.
The heads of ruminants are in general long; all have
large and well-formed eyes, but are not very intelligent
looking. These animals are well organised for eating.
Their stomach has too much digestive power for their brain
to reflect much. They are thought to be of a more affec_
tionate character, more docile than the carnivora; but
observation shows that most adult ruminants, especially the
males, are rough and wild, little influenced by kindness,
scarcely recognising him who feeds them, not attaching
themselves to him, and always ready to strike the moment
he ceases to intimidate them.
Ruminants, when they gain strength, are really more
unruly than the carnivora—that is, their intelligence is
much lower and much more limited.
* Parts of the inner brain, so named.
6 a
j
3
*
N
230 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
We do not communicate our intelligence to animals, we
only make them develope their own, and apply it to a greater
number of objects. Many among them have been domesti-
cated, and have rendered us great services; but in becoming
slaves, have they not become more intelligent? Certain
authors say that the ruminants have lost something of their
natural faculties. ‘The affection for the race is very weak,
and does not last long; the females only show scme
solicitude for their little ones. Wild beasts, of which they
are the principal food, and hunters, who pursue them with-
out ceasing, would have made them disappear from the
greater part of the earth if they had not been protected by
acuteness of hearing and rapidity of flight.
It is remarked that nearly all animals living on grass
pass much of their life in a state which approaches habitual
torpor. The life of carnivorous animals is much more
busy and active, but these and the ruminants find happi-
ness in the exercise of their natural faculties, and there
are very few species of the latter which feel any wants
independent of their simple appetites. This disposition for
repose is perhaps what hinders, says G. Leroy, the species
from perfecting themselves as much as their organisation
would permit. Yet there are certain ruminants which
display a real intelligence. We will first of all name the
following.
THE CAMEL—THE LLAMA.
‘THE camel is said to be the first of all ruminants in intelli-
gence. ‘This animal is very docile ; it is taught while young
to bend down and to kneel when about to be loaded. As
The Camel about to be Loaded.
soon almost as it is born the keepers bend its four legs under
the stomach, and cover the animal with a carpet, on the
borders of which they place stones, so that it cannot get up.
The “ breaking in” generally takes place when the camel is
four years old. One of the fore legs is raised and tied up ;
232 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
the animal then gently falls upon its knee, and in a short
time learns to do so ata word. ‘The trainers leave it thus
for some time without letting it suck, so that it early acquires
the custom of rarely drinking. The owners do not allow
their camels to carry burdens before the age of three or
four years. And, when the beasts feel they are sufficiently
loaded, you must not, says Valmont de Bomare, think of
loading them any more, or they are discouraged, shaking
the head, and starting up. If they are overladen, they set
up a lamentable cry. The camel has one great fault ; it is
spiteful, and becomes dangerous to those who drive it too
roughly ; it long remembers any ill-treatment, and when it
can catch its enemy, takes him up with its teeth, lets him
fall down on the earth, and stamps on him till he is crushed.
The expression ‘‘camel’s temper” denotes, in the East, an
unforgiving man. This bad humour is but a temporary
excitement, and the camel, after all, is an excellent animal,
which has not, as has been said, any antipathy to the
donkey, the horse, and the mule. Whenever it finds itself
in their company the camel is, on the contrary, very good
society. This beast has a singular power for detecting the
position of pools of water. A camel has rushed headlong
to the hidden waters when neither men nor asses were aware
of the presence of the element.
The llama, which comes very near the camel in its
organisation, is, like it, docile and intelligent. The gait of
these animals, and their long, narrow, pointed, and mov-
able ears, show great vivacity. Their paces, without being
light, are free and sure; they are timid without being
afraid ; they readily place confidence in those that take
care of them, and even seem susceptible of a deep affec-
tion. As the padded foot of the camels would have been
THE CAMEL—THE LLAMA. 233
a hindrance to the llamas in climing rocky steeps, its place
is supplied in the latter animals by strong hooked claws,
with a separate cushion behind each. This gives great
freedom to the foot in combination with a firm grasp of
the ground,
OXEN.
Ir is said of a slow, heavy, and narrow mind that it is dull
as an ox. Certainly this mammal has not as much intelli-
gence as the ant or the spider; which proves that a large
head, and a brain provided with circumvolutions, will not
give a mind. We have already said, and we must repeat,
that the stomach often stupefies intelligence. Great eaters
generally finish by heaviness of mind. He who is all for
eating is little for thought. It must not be supposed, how-
ever, that the ox is a fool, with whom you may do as you
please. In order to tame and subjugate it, you must take
the animal at the age of two and a half or three years ; if
you wait longer, it often becomes untameable. Patience,
gentleness, and caresses have a good effect on him, while
bad treatment disheartens him and paralyses the little intel-
ligence he possesses. When well brought up, he is gentle,
patient, and hard-working; and, without having great in-
telligence, draws his plough calmly and courageously. The
bull, on the contrary, will fight most bravely for the herd,
and walk proudly at the head, announcing himself by a
grave lowing, as you may hear in the first days of spring,
when these animals come to take possession of the pas-
turage. If there are two herds in a field, the two bulls will
detach themselves from them, and advance towards each
other, animated by a feeling of jealousy ; the lowing is the
signal for action. Then the two rivals fall on each other
with impetuosity, and butt with fury. The first shock is
OXEN. | 235
followed by a second, then by a third; they fight with
frenzy, and do not cease the combat till they are separated,
or till the weakest is constrained to yield.
In the ruminants, it is observed that the difference of
character between the male and female is more marked than
in any other class of animals. It would be difficult to find
The Two Rivals.
characters more different than the bull and the cow, the he-
goat and the she-goat, the ram and the sheep, the hart and
the hind.
The fierce energy and intelligence of the bovine race
can be but feebly marked in the domesticated species. A
wrize “‘ Devon,” or show “ Hereford,” is too much cared for
ae eee ere
sr
FY TY ERS SET
LIE SOE EES BYTES REST Ses
236 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
by man to allow of any quality to be developed except the
capacity for getting sleek and fat. The hunter who has met
the charge of the wild bison of the American prairies, or
fought with the fierce African buffalo, can alone estimate
fully the natural resources of the animals. The small but
fiery eye, the long shaggy hair, and the vindictive charge of
a wounded bison, make the boldest man feel that such a
creature cannot be called “stupid.” No httle skill is neces-
sary to surprise these watchful animals, which scan every
far-off movement, and sniff the wind with suspicion. The
bravest bull-dogs soon learn, when they close with a bison,
the effective fury of its peculiar mode of attack. This is
made by striking at the dog with their fore-feet, one blow of
which will stamp the assailant into the dust. A pack of
famished wolves will hesitate before charging the disciplined
array of a bison army. All the young and weak animals
stand in the centre, the rest form an impenetrable circle of
horns, against which even the savage prairie wolves will
seldom dash. Those who have seen the wild oxen preserved
in Chillingham Park, Northumberland, will notice in their
mode of advance to the attack a concerted combination of
movement.
“As stupid as an ox” may be current now, but there
was a time when the animal was treated as a god, or made
the symbol of Divine attributes. The Egyptians found a
home for their great divinity Osiris in the body of an ox, and
Nineveh even joined the human head to the bovine body..
The winged and human-headed bulls in the British Museum
show the reverence paid in remote ages to this animal. The
strange mythology of India has made the bull the sacred
animal of Siva, and millions of Hindoos at this day revere
the creature as the representative of Deity.
OXEN. 237
A few words on the Cow are necessary, not because she
is very intelligent, but because she has such a good heart!
The cow shows that she hears her name, and understands
very well the words which express an order or a prohibition.
She accustoms herself to the persons who take care of her ;
and if a strange hand tries to milk her, she withholds her
milk.
Cows appear very tender in the bringing-up of their
calves ; they complain in their own way, and low when they
hear the voice of the young. ‘‘ They have been seen,” says
Fée, “hurrying towards the habitation and trying to get
in, deceived by the cries of children they have heard.” If
the persons charged with distributing the fodder pass by
without giving them some, they make a plaintive lowing.
They have a sound for joy as well as grief.
Let us notice, lastly, a spirit of subordination very re-
markable in cows. When the herds repair to the Alps, to
pass the summer season there, you may see the leading
cow walking proudly at the head of. her companions. This
cow preserves her authority in the pasture-grounds, and
returns in triumph to the valley, always at the head of her
companions.
This animal has, on several occasions, given proof of a
higher intelligence than most persons would expect to find
in her. Memory is, undoubtedly, an intellectual power, and
this some cows have certainly possessed. Mr. Jesse states
that a cow was taken away from her calf, which was left at
Bushey Park, the mother being hurried off to Smithfield.
The next morning the cow duly presented herself at the gate
of the yard in which the calf had been kept. Of course
there was great surprise and some anger as the question was
asked, ‘“Who brought the cow back?” ‘The inquiry might
238 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
have been repeated until now, and no answer have been
obtained. ‘That cow wanted no guide. She had by some
means broken out of her London home, and had passed
through all the streets to the suburbs without being stopped
by the police, who naturally fancied the drover must be close
athand. Once out of the streets, the route was plain enough
to such a sagacious animal, and the twelve miles were soon
traversed. Affection for the calf may have been the impulse
which drove the cow back, but she must also have had a
strong recollection of all the streets and turnings through
which she had passed from Bushey to Smithfield. The fol-
lowing instance shows a still more retentive memory. A cow
had been sent away from her own pastures to a place about
twenty miles off, in the spring. As the feed was good, she
remained quietly in her new home through the summer ; but
as winter drew on the quality of the grass changed for the
worse. ‘The cow resented this, and, escaping from the pas-
ture, presented herself at the old home, with sundry eager
and indignant lowings. In this case the animal’s memory
must have retained the chief landmarks of the journey for
about half a year. A species of the zebu, or hump-backed
cow of Africa, is said to be trained by the Hottentot shep-
herds to guard large flocks of sheep. She keeps them
together with all the activity of a Scotch colley, and repels |
every enemy with unflinching courage. These facts show
that the cow is capable of receiving a higher education than
she usually obtains.
THE. 34 AG:
ITS REFLECTIONS AND ITS DEVICES.
Tue study of this timid animal furnishes us with a new
proof of the transformation of instinct into intelligence.
When young, it is frightened at the barking of dogs, and
flies instinctively; when old, its flight is the result of_
reflection. However, the stag is one of those animals
whose constitution, inclinations, and manner of nourish-
ment do not lead to much intelligence. It has no difficulty
to conquer in getting food. If it suffer from scarcity,
it has no other resource than to change its place, and
cannot help itself by any kind of industry. Thus its
memory is only charged with a small number of facts.
The stag soon learns and knows where it will find catkins
and tender shoots in the beginning of spring, fresh and
juicy grass during the summer, berries at the end of that
season, and briars or heather-tops when the winter has
dried the herbage and covered the grass with snow.
The repetition of such simple actions does not give much
instruction. To go out of the retreat in the evening to
feed, to re-enter at the dawn of day and go to rest; to
rise sometimes towards mid-day to eat, or, if it be very
hot, to drink at some pool, this is the history of a stag’s
day, and such it would be all his life if the exciternents
of spring and the snares of men did not make some
variety, However, these actions, simple as they are,
240 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
show in the stag experience, reflection, and choice, for it
is necessary that he change his pasture-ground and places
of retreat according to the seasons. In the spring and in
the beginning of summer, the necessity of renewing his
horns and procuring fresh and tender herbage, obliges
him to seek lonely thickets, where he may hope for tran-
quillity. In winter, the rigour of the cold teaches him
to inhabit woods and the depths of forests bordering on
pasture-grounds. But this choice of retreat only supposes
one reflection drawn from a single observation. When he
has been several times disturbed in his asylum, he puts
into action an art which can only be the fruit of finer
and more complicated reflections. He often changes his
coppice with the direction of the wind, that it may bring the
smell and sound of anything which may threaten him from
outside. Often, instead of entering in confidence and
going straight to rest, he makes pretences of entering his
lair; he goes into the wood, comes out, passes and re-passes
on his tracks several times. Without having anything
really to disturb him, he employs the same devices as he
would if hiding himself from the dogs were he hunted by
them. This caution supposes facts already known, and a
series of ideas and presumptions which are the conse-
quences of these facts, for such proceedings must neces-
sarily be the product of reasonings like these which follow :
—‘‘A dog, led by a man, has several times forced me to
flee, and has followed me a long time by my tracks. My
tracks, then, are known to him. What has happened many
times may happen again to-day; so to-day I must take
precautions against what has already happened. Without
knowing what is done to mark my track and follow it, I
presume that, by means of a false march, I could mislead
THE STAG 241
my pursuers; so I must go and return on my tracks, to
deprive them of their knowledge and ensure my quiet.”
“Whoever,” says George Leroy, “will reflect on the
necessity of a motive to produce such a complicated
determination, will see that this cannot be the result of
what is called instinct ; it is, in fact, reasoning and intelli-
gence.”
To be afraid of the noise of dogs, and to escape from
their pursuit, is, in a timid animal, the pure effect of
instinct ; but to direct its flight according to known facts,
and to reason on them, is the effect of an intelligent
principle, which cannot be despised in the stag. When
the creature is without experierce, its flight is simple and
without method. As he only knows the places near to that
where he was born, he returns there often, and only quits
them with regret and at the last extremity. But when the
repeated necessity of hiding from pursuit has obliged the
stag to reflect on the manner in which it has been pursued,
then the animal forms a system of defence, and uses all
varieties of designs and tricks to baffle the foe. Perceiving
that in the thickets the contact of his body leaves a strong
scent on the trees, which the dogs can follow with ardour
and without interruption, the stag leaves these thickets, and
goes into the woods or by’the side of the road. ‘Thus he
prolongs his flight, changes his country, and gets far away.
But, though he no longer hears the dogs, he knows they
will soon approach ; so, instead of yielding to a dangerous
security, he profits by this time of respite to think of
methods for deceiving his enemies. He has remarked that
he was betrayed by the traces of his steps, and that the
pursuit constantly followed them. To hide his road, he
often runs in a straight line, returns on the same track, and
Q
LE a ace
242 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
at last, springing from the ground by several consecutive
leaps, he puts to fault the sagacity of the dogs, deceives the
hunter’s eye, and at least gains time. Sometimes he begins
running as soon as he hears the dogs. Sometimes he begins
by stratagems, as if he were unable to run, and then all at
once starts away with all the speed of which he is capable.
But if he is pressed, it often happens that he throws him-
self on the ground, in the hope that the ardour of the dogs
will carry them on, and that they will go beyond the track ;
and when that happens, he turns quickly back again.
Often he seeks other animals of his kind to lose himself
among them. Is it a natural instinct which leads to his seek-
ing company to keep him safe? He has another motive ;
his partnership does not last as long as the danger. When
the herd which he has joined is excited enough to partake
of the peril with him, and the ardour of the dogs is at fault,
he leaves the exposed herd and gets away by a rapid flight.
This trick is one of which the success is surest. We find,
in Budé’s “ Treatise on Hunting,” all the schemes contrived
by the stag to save itself; how he avoids going against the
wind, how “one sees the stag get into a herd of oxen, and
leap on one of them, holding on by the legs and fore-
shoulders, running a long time as if he were on horseback,
touching the earth with only his -hind feet, and thus leaving
the dogs little scent of him.”
A
GO LE LEMMA NE\ \WYWhM GAGE
SSS SSS SSS
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Woh yl
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STAG ENDEAVOURING TO DECEIVE THE HOUNDS,
Sabre? GOATS, AND ANTELOPES.
THE phrase, “‘a sheepish person,” is never deemed com-
plimentary, nor is it used to denote a strong or active
understanding. Surely, then, the animals which have fur-
nished us with the epithet “sheepish” must be remarkable
for stupidity. This conclusion is not unreasonable in
persons who know little about the habits of sheep. He
who looks at a flock pent in by hurdles in a turnip field,
taking their food just as it is provided, and being under no
necessity to look after their own interests or safety, may
not unnaturally think them stupid. But, even under these
circumstances, the watchful shepherd, if he be himself an
intelligent man, will be very likely to dissent from the
popular opinions about these animals. Those who have
noted their habits in open and hilly countries, where sheep
are left more to their own resources, see nothing dull or
heavy about them. The remarkable timidity of sheep in
presence of the dog has probably greatly aided the common
notion, though this suspicious apprehensiveness of danger
has no connection at all with stupidity. The habit arises
from the peculiar organisation of these animals, being neces-
sary for their safety, and proving rather incessant watch-
fulness than the want of intelligence. Sheep are really
courageous when necessary; the ewe will boldly face a dog
in defence of her lamb, and the ram will charge the bound
with all a warrior’s fury.
246 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
Sheep have sometimes given proof of a strong memory
by the mode in which they have found their way back to the
native pastures. Mr. Hancock describes the obstacles which
an Annandale sheep overcame in her determined journey
-. from Yorkshire to her former Scottish home. Another had
been taken from Edinburgh to a place in Perthshire, having
her lamb with her. She did not like her new home, and
one day got off with her young one, making for the south,
and actually reaching the former fold, with the lamb unhurt,
after a journey of nine days. A singular fact happened
when the watchful ewe arrived at Stirling. It was a market-
day, and she patiently waited outside the town until the
bustle was over, and then got safely through in the evening.
Here was no mere instinct at work, but a faculty regulating
the movements of the animal so as to meet a sudden emer-
gency. Cases of a similar kind might be collected in great
numbers, were they sought for in the proper districts by
persevering inquirers. Probably a great number never pass
beyond the particular localities where, after amusing the
peasantry as a ‘‘nine days’ wonder,” they are gradually
forgotten, or buried in the files of a local newspaper. Welsh
sheep are said to have often escaped from even the neigh-
bourhood of London, whence they have contrived to get
back into Wales.
Mrs. Lee mentions a case which shows not only strong
affection in the sheep, but an intelligent appreciation of
human power to rescue animals from difficulties. A traveller
in the Highlands was hurrying on through a lonely district,
when a sheep ran towards him, bleating in a singular manner.
This unusual action made the traveller pause, upon which
the ewe ran back a little way, then looked towards the man
and renewed the bleating. The human friend, to whom she
SHEEP, GOATS, AND ANTELOPES. 247
seemed thus appealing, felt there was some meaning in the
animal’s actions, and followed her closely. The mystery was
soon explained. Her lamb had fallen on its back between
two huge fragments of rock, and was hopelessly struggling
to escape. The little creature was soon liberated, and the
man felt that this sheep was certainly a rational animal.
Another remarkable instance, of a somewhat similar kind, is
mentioned, in which the ewe, after trying to rescue the lamb,
and finding all her efforts vain, ran off, with most violent
bleatings, to a neighbouring field, to reach which she des-
perately broke through three or four hedges. After some
time she returned, accompanied by a ram, which quickly
pushed the lamb, by his horns, out of the thorny entangle-
ment in which the little creature had been entrapped. In
the former case the sheep, seeing no other aid near, had
appealed to man; in this, the animal must have made her
wants known to one of her own species. It is useless to
involve ourselves in a metaphysical maze by asking ow
animals can thus convey information from one to another.
It is something to note the results; that is within the pro-
vince of natural history. The mode in which these re-
sults are accomplished is yet one of many psychological
mysteries.
It is not to be expected that our domesticated sheep,
which have everything done for them by man, should
develop their natural faculties to any great extent. Could
-we note the habits of the argali, or wild sheep of Central
Asia, or of the mouflon, the untamed race still existing in
parts of Southern Europe, we might see abundant proofs of
the sheep’s intelligence. Whether the argali and mouflon
are the originals of the domesticated breeds, or only de-
scended from those which have escaped from man’s
248 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
* dominion, is not the point for discussion here. A glance at
the mouflon might puzzle even one of the judges of the
Smithfield Club to decide whether the creature most re-
sembles a sheep or a goat; but there can be no mistake
about the energy, daring, and courage of the animal. It is
a splendid Alpine climber, and rivals the chamois in the
‘ boldness and decision of its leaps. Could these sheep be
as closely watched as those on the Cheviots or on the
Welsh hills, we should probably find reason for -believing
that the ovine race would rank rather high among the in-
telligent ruminants. }
The readiness with which a single Syrian sheep will run
out from the flock, when called by its name, has often
astonished travellers. ‘The animal not only acknowledges
its name, but, if the shepherd be really a good one, will run
up to be caressed, just as a dog would. ‘There is no reason
for supposing that the natural faculties of these broad-tailed
sheep are superior to those of our South Downs. Educa-
tion makes the difference ; but a capacity for training must
be possessed by such animals.
The intelligence of the goat stands higher in popular
estimation than that of the sheep. The physical energy
and combative habits of the former have tended to produce
this view, though not supported by any decisive facts. ‘The
sheep have certainly furnished us with more striking proofs
of memory, watchfulness, and powers of combining for
defence than the goats; perhaps if the habits of the wild
ibex, and of the zgagrus, or mountain goat of Persia, could
be more fully noted, we should find abundant proofs of their
intelligence. The animals are, undoubtedly, well able to
hold their own in the Alpine regions of the East, keeping in
small companies sufficiently strong to intimidate their foes.
SHEEP, GOATS, AND ANTELOPES. 249
The domesticated goat is well known for its inquisitive
habits, prying into every corner, and inspecting new objects
with a fearlessness which secures it from molestation. Some
of these animals have shown a readiness to avail themselves
of circumstances which would be thought clever in the dog
or monkey. A goat had been often fed by the servants at
a door. If the time for bringing out the expected food was
allowed to pass by, the animal butted at the door until it
was opened. The ingenuity of the creature went far beyond
this ; she actually learned to imitate the actions of the post-
man and others by ringing the large bell, the wire from
which hung close to the iron rails). The servants at first
imagined that some mischievous person had rung the bell,
and watched the area carefully. They thus detected the
goat in the very act of inserting one of her horns into the
ring at the end of the bell-wire, and then by a sharp move-
ment of the head producing a sound which no servant could
disregard. ‘The animal must have observed persons ring the
bell, and have noted how this was followed by the opening
of the door. She must then have inferred that the same
result would follow the like action by herself. If any readers
object to this conclusion, they must at least admit that here
was no merely instinctive process. Learning to ring a bell
cannot be the result of an unreflecting impulse; it is not
an act which all goats have performed from the beginning.
One such case as this may show to what an extent the
faculties of animals may be educated by the force of circum-
stances; but all such training goes far beyond the im-
mutable workings of instincts. There must, therefore, be
another power in animals—a power capable of development,
and of adapting itself to circumstances. It matters little
whether we call this faculty animal reason ow» an inferior
250 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
degree of human reason, but we shall confuse ourselves and
perplex others by naming it instinct.
The antelopes resemble the goats more than the
sheep; indeed, it is sometimes difficult to distinguish the
wild goats from some antelopes. The round and ringed
horns of the latter may, indeed, generally serve to mark
the varieties, but in form and habits many species of this
large family of ruminants approach the wild goats. They
are also like these animals in watchfulness and courage,
but often excel them in beauty of form and elegance of
motion. Unfortunately for the purposes of science, these
animals mostly inhabit regions where civilised man has few
opportunities of observing their habits. The Bushmen of
Africa, or the wandering tribes of the Asiatic steppes, are
much more intent on killing than on studying antelopes.
The Eastern poets have, it is true, drawn many a rich
image from the bright eyes and graceful movements of
the gazelle, and beautiful women have borne the Greek
name of the animal, Dorcas. But even if the habits of
this one beautiful species had been fully and accurately
noted, we should still be far from knowing the peculiarities
of the remaining seventy or eighty species. The chamois
is, indeed, found in Europe, and therefore falls more
under the notice of educated men than other antelopes.
But the lofty Alpine peaks or mountain glens in which the
chamois loves to dwell, give few opportunities for observa-
tion by naturalists. The hunters, when intelligent, are most
able to form a correct judgment about the animal. Their
reports may help us to understand something of antelope
life in general, and the narratives of travellers will give some
notion of the countless swarms which traverse the plains of
Africa and scour the uplands of Asia. ‘The curiosity and
SHEEP, GOATS, AND ANTELOPES. 251
inquisitive habits of the goats are equally exhibited by the
antelopes. Any fresh object arrests the attention of the
whole troop, which circles round the strange animal or man,
getting nearer at each turn. This insatiable curiosity aids
the hunter, who has only to wait till the prying animals come
within rifle-shot. Thus the love of knowledge is not without
its perils, even for antelopes; but the habit shows a fitness
for the reception of new impressions. Most antelopes com-
bine great caution with curiosity, and there appears to be no
reason for doubting that many species perform their migra-
tions under the guidance of a leader, and post watchers
round about the host when they rest. It may be said that
it is instinct alone which leads the oldest and boldest of the
herd to place himself in the front, and that a like impulse
disposes others to watch. Of course, all this is just possible ;
but the results are so like the suggestions of reason, that
many persons will attribute them to some exercise of this
faculty. So watchful are the sentinels of the Saiga antelope,
that all the skill of the Russian and Tartar hunters, in their
attempts to creep within shooting distance, is often baffled.
In this sharp contest between the skill of man and the vigi-
lance of the animal, even a little success on the part of the
latter indicates the possession of faculties fitted to cope, in
some degree, with human reason. The Whang Yang, or
Dzeren antelopes, when attacked on the march, do not get
into confusion, but follow the leader in a long, unbroken
array, which many a general of half-disciplined troops
might envy. Even the gazelles arrange themselves in
something like military order when attacked by the lions
of the Sahara. They form a hollow circle, in the centre
of which the females and young are placed, while the
defenders present lines of horns, like a row of bayonets,
252 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
towards the foe. When troops form a hollow square,
we admit the operation to be the result of calculation :
why should a similar manceuvre by antelopes be ascribed
to instinct only ?
It is surely, then, allowable to conclude that signs of
intelligence—of a faculty higher than instinct—are found
among sheep, goats, and antelopes.
PACHYDERMATA.
THE name pachydermata is derived from the Greek words
which signify “thick skinned.” Their teeth vary in strength
and structure; the number of their toes also varies from
one to five. Thus, the horse has only one, the pig two, the
rhinoceros three, the hippopotamus four, and the elephant
five. The diversity of these characters has induced natural-
ists to divide the pachydermata into several groups or
families: that of the proboscides having a trunk ; that of
the common pachydermata comprehending the rhinoceros,
the hippopotamus, the pig, the tapir, &c., and the family of
the solipedes or solid-hoofed, as the horse.
Proboscides.—The elephants are the only representatives
of this family—enormous animals, whose nose is developed
in such a way as to constitute a long trunk, by which they
seize the smallest substances, tear up trees, lift heavy
burdens, and strike their enemies. Cuvier and others have
estimated the number of muscles in the elephant at more
than 40,000. These animals have two kinds of teeth—
the incisors, forming long tusks; and grinders, suited to
vegetable food only. Their brain has numerous circumvo-
lutions; the hemispheres contain three divisions, and the
whole cerebral mass is a little larger than that of man.
They have small sharp eyes and a very acute smell.
254 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
The elephant is, as we shall see, one of the most intel-
ligent animals.
The juments* are animals having the toes enveloped in
hoofs, but not cloven. It is to this order that the horses,
asses, and allied species belong. The common pachyderms
include the hippopotamus, rhinoceros, and tapir.
* Beasts of burden, such as the horse.
THE ELEPHANT.
THE MUSICAL ELEPHANT.—THE COURTIER.—THE BOUQUET
MAKER.—ITS HATRED.—ITS GENEROSITY.—ITS AFFEC-
TION FOR CHILDREN.
“ An animal,” says Buffon, “is a being purely material, which
neither thinks nor reflects, and which, nevertheless, acts and
seems to have the power of determining. We cannot
doubt,” he adds, “that the principle of determination is
only a purely mechanical effect in an animal.” Yet this
same Buffon expresses himself thus about the elephant :—
“It has small eyes, but they are brilliant and keen, and
distinguished from those of other animals by the pathetic
expression of sentiment. The elephant turns the eyes
slowly and with a gentle expression towards his master.
He has a look of love for his guardian, of attention when
he speaks, the glance of intelligence when he has listened
to him, that of penetration when he wants to warn him.
This animal seems to reflect, deliberate, think, and not make
up its mind till it has looked several times at the object
without hurry and without passion.
“The elephant, once subdued, becomes the gentlest and
the most obedient of all animals: he attaches himself to his
keeper, caresses him, warns him, and seems to know all
that pleases him. Ina little time the young elephant begins
to understand signs, and to note the meaning of sounds, to
distinguish between the tone of anger or of satisfaction, and
256 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
to act In consequence. He never mistakes his master’s
word, receives his orders with attention, executes them
with prudence, with haste but without precipitation, for
his movements are always deliberate.”
An animal which can note the meaning of sounds, can
distinguish them, and act in consequence, is undoubtedly
an intelligent being: The elephant and whale are the only
animals having a brain absolutely larger than that of man.
If the relative size of the bodies be considered, then of
course man’s brain is the largest.
Buffon adds, “Though the elephant has more memory
and intelligence than any animal, he has a smaller brain
than the greater part of them, compared with the size of his
body. ‘The nerves which extend through the elephant’s
trunk are so numerous that they equal in number all those
distributed over the rest of the body. It is by a singular
combination of the senses with the fine organisation of the
trunk, that this animal is superior to others in intelligence,
notwithstanding the mass of its body, and the disproportion
of its shape The elephant is at the same time a miracle of |
intelligence and a monster of matter.”
All these contradictions, all these hesitations in Buffon,
prove that the illustrious naturalist, partial to his false
idea of the mere mechanism of animals, was forced, 1
spite of himself, to recognise their intelligence. But he
does not see the true organ of intelligence, which is
not the nerves, but the. cerebral hemispheres. The
pachydermata come immediately, in development of brain,
after the carnivora, which are only separated from man by
the monkeys. The law is confirmed here which says that
intelligence goes with the development of the brain hemi-
spheres. The elephant’s brain has numerous circumvo-
THE ELEPHANT. 257
lutions, and, contrary to Buffon’s idea, this organ is not
smaller than that of the greater part of animals. It is
proved that the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, and the
gorilla have, the size of their bodies considered, a smaller
brain than the elephant. Let us add that this centre of
action is admirably served by the senses. The elephant has
the ear perfectly organised, and the hearing extremely fine.
He likes music, easily learns to mark the time, and to move
in step to the sound of drums. His smell is exquisite, and
he likes perfumes of all kinds, and above all, fragrant
flowers ; he chooses them, picks them one by one, makes
bouquets of them, and, after having relished the smell,
carries them to his mouth, and seems to taste them.
The touch, the principal seat of which is in the trunk, is
very delicate. He can trace, with the aid of this kind of
hand, regular characters ; can feel wholesale and touch in
detail. The touch is so near the smell that these two
senses co-operate together. The elephant has, if we may so
speak, his nose in his hand.
With such a complete organisation, we must not be
astonished at the elephant’s marvellous intelligence. The
Academy of Sciences has recorded some interesting facts,
transmitted by those who kept the elephant at the menagerie
of Versailles. This elephant seemed to know when he was
laughed at, and avenged himself when he had an oppor-
tunity. To a man who had deceived him, pretending to
throw something into his throat, he gave such a blow with
his trunk that it threw him down and broke two ribs.
Ancient writers have narrated many incidents showing
the time during which elephants will remember an insult, and
the singular modes of revenge which they will adopt. Most
of these statements are probably true, but the impossibility
R
258 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
of testing them must be our apology for omitting all men-
tion of these marvels. We have so many trustworthy
accounts of the doings of modern elephants, that we can
easily dispense with the wonderful feats of the ancients.
The mode in which the Indian elephant punished the tailor
who pricked the animal’s trunk with a needle, by drenching
the offending man with water, is, probably, known to every
English child, and further reference to this incident is need-
less. Captain Shipp had some reason for remembering both
the strength of the elephant’s memory and the unpleasant
mode in which it retaliates upon a wrong-doer. The
captain tried a scheme which he supposed would test the
tenacity of recollection in the animal. He, therefore,
placed between two slices of bread-and-butter a thick layer
of cayenne pepper, and gave the whole to the unsuspecting
pachyderm. The creature’s manner showed its disgust at
the trick, but no attempt was then made to punish the
perpetrator. About six or seven weeks after, the captain
resolved to show himself again to the deceived animal.
The elephant received the attentions of the visitor without
the least sign of resentment, and the past seemed to be
entirely forgotten. All at once, without the least warning,
the unlucky and experimenting captain was deluged with a
torrent of water from the trunk. of the sly animal. The
creature had clearly concealed its emotions, just as well-bred
human beings do, and had carefully watched for the oppor-
tunity both of filling and emptying the trunk. Such an
instance of self-restraint in an animal is a strong proof that
it possesses the faculties which give the power of self-
discipline. A story somewhat resembling this is told of the
elephant kept in the “ Jardin des Plantes,” at Paris. An artist
was taking the portrait of the animal, and wished to make it
THE ELEPHANT. 259
open the mouth and raise the trunk frequently. To obtain
this action an apple was, at intervals, thrown to the elephant.
But to save a too great expenditure of apples, false throws
were several times made, which had the effect of putting the
trunk in the desired position, though irritating the creature
exceedingly. At length the artist was about finishing the
portrait, when the elephant filled his trunk with water, as if
to drink, but, instead of so using the fluid, poured out the
whole on the painter and his drawing. . The revenge was
complete, the artist being drenched and the work almost
ruined. Mr. Broderip mentions a case in which a year
elapsed between a trick practised on an elephant and the
day of the revenge. The cheat in this instance was giving
some nauseous food to the animal, which showed its resent-
ment at the time by dashing its water bucket at the head of
the offender as he hastily retreated. ‘The following year the
menagerie, of which this elephant formed a part, came to
the same town, when the same person endeavoured to repeat
the old trick. He did not escape this time, being caught up
by the enraged animal, whirled in the air, and narrowly
escaping with the loss of his coat-skirts.
In Madagascar, an elephant keeper, having a cocoa-nut in
his hand, chose for fun to break this nut against the animal’s
head. The following day the elephant saw some cocoa-nuts
exposed in the street before a shop; he took up one with
his trunk, and killed the keeper with one blow ot the
hammer-like nut. This was literally practising the law of
retaliation.
These few cases may suffice to show that, if a resentful
memory and a designed punishment prove the possession of
reasoning faculties, then we must grant these to the elephant.
Such animals are, it may be supposed, always ready to resent
Bie noo Be
260 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
wrong doing from one of their own species. A strong
elephant at Bhurtpore snatched away a water-pail from a
weaker neighbour, and then walked to the edge of a vast
tank to get water. The plundered animal watched his
opportunity, and rushing with all his might at the spoiler,
pitched him over the edge to the bottom of the tank. How
like a rational act was the whole operation !
The Versailles elephant was remarkable for his clever--
ness, which was such that he took off quite easily a thick
leather strap to which his leg was attached, undoing the
buckle and the ring, and when they tied this buckle with
a cord twisted in a number of knots, he untied it with-
out breaking anything. One night, after thus getting rid
of his strap, he broke the door of his dwelling so cleverly
that his keeper was not awakened by it. The animal
passed into several courts of the menagerie, breaking the
shut doors, and also the masonry when it was too small to
lethim pass. He thus went into the enclosures of all the
animals, and frightened them so much that they fled to hide
themselves in the most distant part of the park.
The stories of elephant sagacity might, indeed, fill a
volume, for all their actions are marked, though in various
degrees, by clear signs of this quality. In the year 1863,
an elephant was employed at a station in India to pile up
heavy logs, a work which these animals will perform with
great neatness and speed. The superintendent of the
labour suspected the keeper of stealing the rice apportioned
for the animal’s food. The man, of course, protested with
all the vehemence of a native against the charge, and
bemoaned his hard fate in being exposed to such a cruel
suspicion. lt so happened that the elephant was standing
by during the loud discussion, and, though no one supposed
THE ELEPHANT. 261
the creature understood the words uttered, 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 wrapper. Further evi-
dence was needless, either of the man’s guilt or the
elephant’s sagacity. The animal had probably seen the
roguish attendant place its food in his cloth, and had simply
taken the opportunity of recovering its rights. So closely
do elephants remember the signification of the signs which
have been taught them, that they will instantly obey the
gentlest signal, such as the lifting up of a finger or the
slightest touch on their ears.
Bishop Heber tells of a malicious man who induced his
elephant to kill a woman, by giving the sign of attack to
the animal he was riding. Some natives had, however,
witnessed the proceeding, and so clear was their testimony,
that the man was hanged for the murder. The Mahommedan
soldiers in the Mogul army trained their elephants to destroy
the numerous small images of the Hindoo divinities. Of
course, the soldiers pretended that the wise and theological
animals had an innate hatred of idolatry, which could not
be restrained! The Hindoo knew better, and divined that
a secret sign was given to the well-taught beasts. Indeed,
there is scarcely an act, from the killing of a man to the
uncorking of a wine bottle, which these clever quadrupeds
cannot perform; perhaps to thread a lady’s fine sewing
needle might be beyond their power, but we are not certain.
The Exeter Change elephant showed his reasoning powers
in the following device, witnessed by Mr. Jesse. This
gentleman was giving some potatoes to his huge pet, when
one fell on the floor just beyond the sweep of the creature’s
262 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
trunk. A few inches behind the potato was a wall. The
animal blew strongly against the vegetable. Of course this
sent it further off still from the trunk agaist the wall, but
the recoil brought the potato back nearer than before to the
elephant, which then secured the prize. It seems absurd to
suppose that the animal knew anything about action and
reaction, but the deed performed and the result attained
were just what reason might have suggested to a clever
child.
An extraordinary instance of self-denial and recollection
is described by Dr. Wilson, formerly Bishop of Calcutta. An
elephant had become blind from an ophthalmic affection.
A physician applied nitrate of silver to one eye; the agony
compelled the creature to utter a piteous cry, but the opera-
tion was so far successful that some degree of sight was
recovered. It was proposed to try the experiment on the
- other eye ; but was it at all likely the animal would submit,
having already felt the pain? However, the attempt was to
be made, and the next day the physician visited his extra-
ordinary patient. What followed seems almost beyond
belief, but the testimony of educated and scientific eye-
witnesses cannot be set aside. No sooner did the elephant
see the physician, Dr. Webb, than he lay down of his own
accord, and placed the head in a position which seemed to
invite a repetition of the experiment. The operation was
at once performed with the greatest ease. [If all this is to
be called mere instinct, then we may as well apply the same
term to the noblest deeds of the human race.
The strong memory of the elephant has, doubtless,
much influence in developing its natural sagacity. These
animals have been known to repeat, with the greatest
accuracy, exercises which had been intermitted for thirty
THE ELEPHANT. 263
years. Yet, after so long a period, a single old and once
familiar word has put in motion the whole train of asso-
ciations. These may have been the exceptions, the geniuses
as it were, of the species; but even this is a supposition,
and such animals may truly represent the intelligence of
which the race is capable. |
The elephant is vindictive, but grateful. A soldier of
Pondicherry, who used to carry a certain portion of arrack
to one of these animals whenever he took his pay, having
one day drank more than was good for him, and seeing
himself pursued by the guard, who were about to take him
to prison, took refuge close to the elephant, and went to
sleep. The guard tried in vain to draw him out of this
asylum; the elephant defended him with his trunk. On
the morrow the soldier, recovered from his intoxication,
shuddered at waking to find himself lying near such an
enormous animal. The elephant, who undoubtedly per-
ceived his fright, caressed him with his trunk to re-assure
him, and made him understand that he could go. ;
Some have doubted the generosity of the elephant,
saying that he has an aversion for small animals. Major
Smith relates a fact which completely contradicts this
assertion. An elephant, publicly exhibited a few years ago
in the United States of America, had a great affection for a
dog. The spectators, trying to tease the elephant, amused
themselves from time to time in pulling the ears of the dog
and making it bark. One day this diversion took place
near a barn in which the grave animal lived. As soon
as the elephant heard his friend’s voice in distress, he
gave the planks a hard knock, and seemed astonished that
the obstacle was not crushed under his weight. ‘Then he
struck with still greater force, made the planks fly into
ss
264 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
splinters, and looked through the breach he had made with
such threatening gestures that the dog’s tormentors found
it convenient to decamp.
Dr. Franklin relates that he has seen in India a keeper’s
wife confide the care of a very young child to one of these
gigantic creatures. ‘‘I was even much amused,” he says,
The Elephant protecting a Dog.
‘fin considering the sagacity and delicate care which this
heavy nurse lavished an the child, in the absence of its
mother, engaged elsewhere.” The elephant had taken to
its office in earnest. The child, who, like many others, did
not like to remain long in the same position, and who wished
everybody to be occupied with him, began to cry as soon
THE ELEPHANT. 265
as he felt he was left to himself. It even happened that
he got entangled in the branches of trees on which the
animal fed. ‘The elephant then loosed him with ad-
mirable tenderness, either by raising him with his trunk or
by removing the obstacles which could hinder the move-
ments of the babe. If by chance the child had succeeded
in dragging himself farther than the circle of the animal (for
The Elephant acting as a Nurse.
the poor beast was chained by the foot), the elephant
lengthened his trunk and brought back the child, with as
much cleverness as gentleness, to the place from which the
‘little romp had wandered. The docility of the animal to
its master’s orders was only equalled by its watchfulness
over the child. .
The elephant and the dog are perhaps the only creatures
to which you can confide a trust, and which will fulfil it
without being under the master’s eye.
206 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
The watchfulness of the elephant is sometimes shown to
be accompanied with reflection. An artillery officer relates
the following fact :—
“The train of artillery which was directed towards
Seringapatam had to traverse the sandy bed of a river. It
happened that one of the men seated on one of the ammu-
nition wagons fell. The situation was most critical, and in
a second or two the hind wheels would have passed over
him. ,
“The elephant, which walked behind, perceiving the
danger which the unhappy man ran, at the instant, and
without an order from his keeper, raised the wheel with his
trunk, and held it suspended in the air till the wagon had
passed over the man without harming him.”
Elephants, having been once taken in a hole hollowed
out in their path, and covered with branches, are, when
they have escaped from this trap, in a remarkably defiant
humour. With their trunks they tear up a thick branch,
“with which they go sounding everywhere before placing
the foot, to see that there are no holes in their passage, in
order to prevent being caught a second time.”
Mr. Thomas Anquetil has published an_ interesting
article on the Indian elephant. We extract from it the
following passages :—
“In this country,” he says, “it is the elephants which
convey the teak wood from the place where it has been felled,
in the forest or on the hills, to that where it is to be collected
in floats of wood, on the banks of rivers, the two places
often being several leagues apart. An elephant used te
this labour will often continue it alone, even in the absence
of his keeper. The latter leads him to the forest, sets him
to work, and takes no more notice of him. The elephant
THE ELEPHANT. 26)
arrives at the river bank with his burden, detaches, with the
aid of his trunk, the iron hook, returns to the forest, again
fixes the hook to the bands with which the trunks to be
transported have been previously furnished, then starts again
for the landing-place, and so on, not once failing in his
arrivals, or slackening his pace, or delaying in his work till
his keeper comes to seek him. He does not worry himself
The Elephant rescuing a Soldier.
in the least during these long journeys by difficulties in the
ground, or other obstacles of the same nature ; he is able to
overcome them easily, thanks to his extraordinary strength.
“The elephants used for riding mount with facility
the steepest paths, and roads obstructed with branches or
brambles ; stones or splinters of rocks are taken away in
the same cool and easy manner.”
268 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
The Indians had trained these animals to be their
horses ; the English employ them in moving machines of the
greatest delicacy, power, and complexity.
“‘T was shown,” says Anquetil, “ near the ruins of Ava,
where a Chinese community still exists, a juggling elephant.
At fifty paces he never missed the palm-tree against which
he had been trained to throw stones. At last, taking several
thick iron rings, he threw them into the air and caught
them on the end of his trunk, as the staff juggler, whom
we see in our streets, does with his cane. This elephant
also executed the egg-dance, and performed tricks of
balancing and gymnastics. At last he uncorked, most
cleverly, a bottle of soda-water.”
The sacred books of India speak of an elephant called
Khouny-Noor—or Black Diamond—cherished by the rajah
to whom he belonged. Some rebels seized their sovereign,
loaded him with chains, and took him into captivity, with
Khouny-Noor. The latter showed no sign of discontent,
but silently prepared his revenge. In a dark night he
suffocated his keepers, broke his master’s irons, fled away
with him, and thus contributed to re-mounting him on the
throne. The parties of Indian jugglers all possess an
elephant accustomed to act the scenes which the greater
part of our readers have probably seen in a circus or
hippodrome.
Here is a.curious story. A young Burman lord had
married a second time. On the morrow of the wedding-day,
in the morning, the new bride, surrounded by a swarm of fol-
lowers, wished to take the air under the verandah, a kind of
covered gallery which reaches round the dwellings of per-
sons of rank. The favourite elephant of the master—that
which the young lord usually rode—was walking at this
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THE ELEPHANT BECOMES A COURTIER.
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THE ELEPHANT. 271
instant, under the care of the keeper, in a palisaded en-
closure, in the centre of which the habitation was situ-
ated. Having noticed the presence of women, what did
the creature do? He approached the verandah, leant
delicately against a barrier of bamboos which enclosed a
pleasure garden, picked the most beautiful, the freshest and
most delicate flower, with the finger of his trunk, then shook
his ears, gave an expressive cry, and showed significant
attention in his gentle eyes; after which, raising his head
and trunk gracefully, he lifted the flower to the level of the
balustrade. One of the women stretched out her hand, the
elephant drew back his trunk. The same movement being
renewed several times, the master then wished to take the
flower; the elephant did not now draw back his trunk, but
he did not let go the flower. Upon this the queen of the
féte advanced her hand tremblingly, and the extempore
courtier then gave her his offering gallantly. Judge if he
were not caressed from that time!
“T can guarantee the fact,” said the narrator, “ because
I was there at the time.” The person in question was a
Portuguese, the eldest son of Cameratta, ex-cook, confiden-
tial steward, and factotum of the Burman emperor, and
director of the custom-houses of the empire. The son
himself was chief of the custom-house at Mandalay.
THE HORSE
TEACHABLE INTELLIGENCE.—MEMORY.—MILITARY HORSES.
THE noblest conquest that man has ever made is, without
any doubt, that of the horse. Everything in this animal
breathes out vivacity and energy. ‘That need of continual
movement, that impatience during repose, that nervous
movement of the lips, that stamping of the feet, all indicate
a pressing need of activity. The fulness of the skull, and
the expansion of his forehead, show intelligence. The usual
marks of the intelligent horse—one easily understanding
his master’s orders—are a well-developed head, eyes full
and deep, jaws short, broad forehead, .ears erect and
diverging one from the other, and both eyes and ears
very sensitive.
The horse has also a very strong sensibility. At the
slightest excitement his breathing quickens, and the pulse
becomes more rapid.
Not only is his brain developed and provided with
circumvolutions, but he also possesses exquisite senses.
He has eyes set in such a manner that, while he is feeding,
he has very long sight in a horizontal direction, and dis-
tinguishes objects well during the night. His hearing is
delicate, and he can easily collect sounds in his large,
movable ear-cavities. This suppleness of the ear shows
readily the character of the impressions made on the horse.
THE HORSE. 273
A bold and very movable ear indicates activity. An ear
often moved, turned to all sides, the horse looking to the
right, to the left, and behind ; an upper eyelid wrinkled, a
look now fixed and now uncertain, indicate suspicion and
fear. A horse that places its ears to the front, trying to
scent the persons that approach, is docile, confidential,
and disposed to receive caresses. The nostrils of the horse
are full, and scent from a long distance odorous particles.
His appreciation of delicate food is greater than in other
herbivorous animals, the taste being more developed. The
upper lip has great facility of action in feeding and picking
up food. The skin is of an exquisite sensibility, and he is
able, by wrinkling it, to drive off mischievous or troublesome
insects. His voice, which is called neighing, is modulated
by the sensations, desires, and passions. Five sorts of
neighing may be noticed :—1st. That of soy/dudness, in which
the sounds get stronger and sharper; the animal bounds
and rears, but has no intention of doing any harm. nd.
That of desire: in this the accents are prolonged and deep.
3rd. That of anger: this note is short and sharp; the
animal tries to kick, to strike with his front feet, and if he
is vicious, to bite. 4th. That of fear: grave and hoarse,
seeming to come only from the nostrils, and, like that of
anger, it is very short. 5th. The xeigh of sorrow: it is a
groan, a kind of suffocated cough, in which the grave
sounds follow each breath. They are the most noble and
_the most intelligent horses, and also the most happy, that
mostly neigh from joyfulness and desire.
Wild horses choose their own chiefs, which give the
signal of departure. When a field is dried up these walk at
the head of the column, and are the first to throw them-
selves into a ravine, a river, or an unknown wood. It any
S
274 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
extraordinary object appears, the chief commands a halt.
He goes to discover what it is, and, after his return, gives
by neigh the signal of confidence, of flight, or of combat.
If a fierce enemy presents itself that cannot be escaped by
fleeing, the herd unite themselves in a dense and circular
cluster, all heads turned towards the centre, where the
young animals take refuge. It is seldom that such a
manceuvre does not force the tigers or lions to make a
precipitate retreat.
The powerful nature of the defence formed by thousands
of hoofs may be estimated from the mode in which a single
horse vanquished a bear. Bishop Newton, in his autobio-
graphy, describes a singular contest between a number of
beasts collected in an arena by Frederick I. of Prussia.
The king wished to provide some amusement of a fighting
kind for the great Duke of Marlborough. As gladiators
were out of fashion, animals were selected for combatants,
and a horse, lion, bear, bull, tiger, and a wolf were turned
into the enclosure. The ravenous creatures were soon
engaged in a deadly struggle, the horse looking quietly
on. The bear at length remained conqueror, and being
enraged by battle and wounds, charged full upon the horse.
The assailant was staggered by a tremendous blow from the
hoofs of the attacked animal. Again the bear advanced,
put then received such a sledge-hammer-like stroke that his
jaw was broken. This at once decided the battle in favour
of the horse. What was here witnessed on a small scale
must often happen on the Savannah, when the wild horses
form themselves in battle array. ‘
These hordes, generally composed of several thousand
individuals, divide themselves into many families, each of
which is formed of a male and a certain number of mares
THE HORSE. 275
and foals, that follow and obey the male with docility.
The chief horse is the exclusive sultan; all the mares
belong to him by the right of force ; woe to the fool-hardy
one that disputes with him his seraglio and authority. He
defies him, fights him, makes him retire, sometimes makes
him pay for his audacity by the loss of life. Often the
conqueror pardons his foe, but might not be so generous if
he could foresee that his vanquished enemy was only going
to wait till age had given him greater force and courage
to renew the combat. When the chief becomes old and
loses his vigour, he then succumbs under the kicks of his
rival, or dies from misery and shame.
What do the mares do when the furious rivals fight ?
They quietly graze, without appearing to take any interest
in the issue of the combat, and place themselves afterwards,
with docility, under the vanquisher.
When man ceases to direct attention to the animals in
studs, they elect chiefs from amongst them, which are
almost always old males. Amongst sociable animals, sus-
ceptible of becoming domestic, subordination is implanted
by nature; they yield themselves to one; and this habit
has for its object the preservation of the species.
The habit of marching in troops, and of manceuvring
under the command of chiefs, renders the horse more
fit than any other animal for the work of war, and man only
profits by the natural taste of the horse, in training it for
combat. These animals, finding in the life they lead in
regiments an agreement with their general manners, enjoy
themselves, and are happier than in any other condition of
servitude. They acquire the knowledge of all the move-
ments ordered, and are very soon capable, not only of un-
derstanding them, but also of directing the inexperienced
SE 2
276 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
horsernen who mount them. If the rider is carried off by
a cannon-ball, the old war-horse does not desert the ranks,
but continues to follow the chief of his file. Grognier
reports that he has seen, when the columns of cavalry
traverse a battle-field, abandoned horses follow, as far as
their feeble strength would allow, the squadrons in which
they recognised old comrades.
A feeling particularly belonging to the horse is emula-
tion. Whoever has witnessed a horse race can understand
the ardour, vehemence, and struggle for victory, which
excite the energies of both horses and men, ‘The ani-
mals have often endeavoured to hold their rivals back by
the teeth. This will happen when the horses are left entirely
by themselves, as on some of the Italian race-courses, where
the horses run without riders. Both Mr. Youatt and Mr.
Martin, in their works on the horse, mention several cases of
such determined, and, as it were, personal rivalry. Mr. Bell,
in his “ British-Quadrupeds,” reminds us of a horse which,
finding himself losing, gripped the opposing racer so furiously
that the race was stopped, and the jockeys forced to dis-
mount. The proceeding was, doubtless, a complete violation
of all racing laws, but it showed how entirely the horse
entered into the spirit of the struggle. A similar instance is
reported of the famous race-horse Forester, which, when run-
ning against Sir Tennison Shaftoe’s horse, called Elephant,
seized the latter by the jaw to hold him back.
The horse is endowed with a very strong memory. It
has happened to many persons that when they have lost
their way in the night, and let themselves be guided by
their horse, they have recovered their road. Franklin re-
ports that he had a horse who conducted him in a mountain
country, difficult to pass. Every time that he lost his road,
THE HORSE. 277
he left the reins on the animal’s neck, which, abandoned to
itself, never failed to regain the road.
Mr. Youatt boldly asserts that the horse ‘never forgets”
a road he has once passed over. He mentions the case ot
a young horse which went a journey of about thirty miles
across a country which the animal had never seen before.
In two years after, the mder set out for the same journey
on the same horse, and towards nightfail got completely
bewildered among the wild moorland tracks. What was to
be done? The gentleman had heard wonderful tales about
the memory of horses, but these recollections gave him little
confidence now, as his own steed had travelled through that
district but once before, and the night was dark and stormy.
However, feeling the case desperate, the rider left the horse
to take his own course. The animal set off in the darkness,
and came in due time to the village where the journey was
to end. The strong recollection which horses retain of
places where they have been, and the tendency to stop at
certain houses, or to go down particular lanes, must be well
known to all who have much acquaintance with these
animals. ‘Their remembrance of persons is quite as strong
as of places. Colonel Hamilton Smith was recognised by
his old charger three years after the friends had parted
company. The colonel was travelling by the mail-coach,
and while the horses were being changed his attention was
attracted by one. At the same moment the animal rubbed ~
his head against his arm. The recognition was complete on
both sides, being, however, more vivid and ready in the
quadruped, for while the colonel was looking doubtfully, the
horse showed an unhesitating recollection.
The intelligence of the horse would be still greater if,
instead of limiting it to mechanical services, we took the
2 78 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
trouble to develop it. The most sagacious horses are, in
general, war-horses, because the soldiers in their leisure
moments take the trouble to talk to the animals, and train
them to all sorts of exercises.
The war-horse is a companion and a friend for thé
soldier. He hears the voice of man, partakes of his warlike
passions, and neighs with fury against the enemy. Some
may remember that in 1809, the Tyrolese, in one of their
insurrections, took fifteen Bavarian horses and mounted
them; but in an encounter with a squadron of the regi-
ment, these horses escaped at a great gallop and carried their
riders, in spite of all. efforts, into the ranks of the Bavarians,
where they were made prisoners.”
Perhaps this rejoining of their old companions was mainly
caused by the strong affection horses often have for animals
of their own species with which they have been long asso-
ciated. Friendship is not limited to the human race ; cynics
even insinuate that it is by no means common among men.
Perhaps the cynics are entirely wrong; but it is, however,
certain that horses have shown attachment for each other.
Mr. Jesse mentions two Hanoverian horses who had long
been associates in a brigade of artillery. One was killed in
battle ; the other received his usual food after the fight was
over, but, instead of eating, kept looking about as if search-
ing for his lost companion. No inducement could prevail
on him to touch food, nor would he pay the least regard to
the other horses near. The soldiers tried every scheme to
disturb the animal’s old recollections, and .to awaken new
impressions. The men saw that a trained and valuable horse
was likely to perish for want of its usual food, and the old
campaigners taxed their wits to discover some mode of
forcing the animal to eat. All efforts were useless, and the
SS
=
SSS
> = Sz
S=—=S=
FIDELITY OF A TROOP OF BAVARIAN HORSES,
———
THE HORSE. 281
horse died of starvation, or rather, as we may justly say,
committed suicide from grief at the loss of an old
friend.
Horses will not only bemoan lost companions, but
sympathise with and endeavour to aid their living associates.
The mere statement of this will seem absurd to some, and
they will laughingly ask whether we believe in the fourth
voyage of Captain Lemuel Gulliver? Our belief is founded
upon evidence ; and such a basis of opinion is, we humbly
presume, sought even by those who seem ever eager to
reject all proofs of animal imtelligence. Mr. Watson, in his
work on “The Reasoning Power in Animals,” mentions the
following :—“A gentleman was one evening in the full
enjoyment of a pleasant dinner-party in his own house. It
so happened that a glass-door opened from the dining-room
upon the lawn. Pushing open this door, a most extra-
ordinary and unbidden visitor entered the room. Starting
up, the amazed company beheld a quadruped which had
never entered that room before. The gentleman advanced
and recognised one of his favourite mares, which, un-
daunted by the blaze of light and the crowding round her
of the astonished guests, showed by voice and manner some
strange emotion. Her master went up to the animal, which
trotted off, uttering a peculiar cry. It was determined to
ascertain the cause of the mare’s strange conduct. She was
followed to a field, and the motive for her unwonted beha-
- viour was quickly ascertained. Her foal had got entangled
in bog and briars, and the alarmed mother had adopted
this effective mode of obtaining aid.” A somewhat similar
incident has, in a previous chapter, been told of a sheep,
and in both cases the appeal for human help had a rational
motive, and was prosecuted in a rational manner. Many
282 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
cases of the same class could easily be given, but the mere
accumulation of similar facts is hardly desirable.
Some of the ingenious feats of the more clever horses
have a close resemblance to human actions. Take the
following case, narrated by Mr. Smiles in his “Life of
Rennie, the Engineer:”—A horse, called Jack, was one
among many employed at the erection of Waterloo Bridge.
The horse was accustomed to draw the stone-trucks along a
tramway to the places where the stones were required. A
beer-shop was, of course, opened near the works for the
special use of the ‘navvies’ and other workmen. The
driver of Jack’s truck was an honest sort of fellow, named
Tom, who had one special weakness—an inability to pass
the beer-shop without taking ‘a little.’ Jack was so accus-
tomed to this, that, though a restive animal, he waited
contentedly till Tom came out of his own accord, or till the
appearance of an overlooker startled the man into activity.
On one occasion, however, when the superintendents were
absent, Tom took so long a spell at the ale that Jack became
restive, and, the trace fastenings being long enough, the
animal put his head inside the beer-house door, and seizing
the astonished Tom by the collar with his teeth, dragged the
lazy man out to the truck. Every man there understood
the action of the horse, and great became the fame of Jack
amongst the host of workers.
Mrs. Lee mentions a horse which, having to cross an
Opening on some planks, and these having become slippery
by frost, scattered with its feet some loose sand lying near
over the ice-covered timbers, and thus secured a rough sur-
face and a firm footing. This is precisely what a man would
have done under the circumstances.
Mr. Jackson, in his work, “Our Dumb Companions,”
THE HORSE. 283
gives the following instance, illustrating the sagacity of a
horse :—“ The animal had been carelessly shod, and, pro-
bably, suffered pain in consequence. ‘The creature seems
to have been quite aware of the proper remedy, for a few
days after the shoeing operation the farrier was amazed to
see the horse approach the door of the workshop, and hold
up the hoof. An inspection soon showed the nature of the
fault, which being rectified, the animal went off satisfied.”
The clever manner in which this horse escaped from its
meadow must not be passed over. Having no means of
unlocking the gate, he had actually lifted one end off the
hinges with his teeth, and was thus able to get through.
The horse mentioned by Lord Brougham, in his ‘ Dialogues
on Instinct,” which, having watched the men pumping water
into his trough, raised the water himself by working the
handle up and down with his teeth, was a first-rate imitator,
or a fair kind of reasoning animal. The general conclusion,
therefore, seems to be that the more we become acquainted
with animals, the more do evidences of their intelligence
multiply.
LAE LON, IT, RI a — I
THE. ASS.
WE liked the donkeys very much in our youth, and we shall
still be happy in our older days to render justice to a misun-
derstood animal, an honest beast, and a devoted companion
of the poor traveller. The ass is hated, mistaken, blamed,
badly fed, tugged to the right, to the left, turned upside
down, beaten by all children, and only gathers the thistles
of life. How much has this patient animal lost in form,
since he delighted in his wild state! His character is equally
changed: he is no more a lively, wild animal, but a poor
slave, stupefied by the kicks of an unpitying master.
Toussenel, who is rather inclined to describe animals ac-
cording to the common ideas entertained about them, seems
to have taken literally “ the folly” and “ the gross ignorance
of the ass.” To him the ass symbolises, more especially in
France, the water-carrier, who is his companion in labour.
The native of the Auvergne mountains, he says, does not
shine precisely in delicacy of language, elegance of manners,
or nicety of eating. Toussenel would see a likeness be-
tween the ass and the Auvergnat, as he would between the
gentleman and: the Arabian steed.
It is not to-day that the ass and fable have first been
united ; ages ago they were pleasantly joined in many a
witty analogy.
The Holy Scripture treats much of the poor beast on
which the Saviour was mounted. The ass is venerated
THE ASS. 285
because it carried on its back’ a cross—the emblem of
tribulations.
As it likes thistles and thorns, it is compared to a
philosopher who supports with calmness all the bitterness of
life. The ass is, to some, a type of good men who renounce
the pomps and vanities of the world. It has been remarked
that the prudent beast does not traverse willingly the dan-
gerous passes where it has stumbled. It is thus likened to
the wise man who fears to fall again into the snare in which
he was taken. ‘The ass has little confidence in new waters,
and has to be urged before drinking in unknown ponds ;
therefore some have made it a model of prudence, and
others a type of those who oppose all change, all new ideas,
and the right of free examination !
After having compared the ass to a water-carrier, Tous-
senel sees between it and the rough peasant a great resem-
blance. The spirit of obstinacy, he says, and of systematic
opposition to new ideas is, in reality, the dominant passion
of the donkey! The ass who is the emblem of the rough
peasant, and of the boorish hater of novelty, errs above all
by disuse of its intelligence. It is not so much the love of
the old customs that binds it, but the horror of the new!
Toussenel admires the ass, and the peasant his image,
because they are both admirable for their soberness, their
constancy in work, and their resignation in poverty; but
he should not make virtues of their faults, because he
knows that it is through want of elevation in their aims that
the peasant and the ass support their condition so patiently.
It is very easy to say that, my dear professor, some may
say; you yield too easily to your sympathies or anti-
pathies.
The ass is neither a dirty water-carrier, nor a rough
286 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS. ;
peasant, nor an idler in intelligence, nor a being without
elevation! It is, on the contrary, an exceedingly clean
animal, which continually reproves man for thrashing him.
See him rolling on the grass, on the heath, on ferns; he
does not wallow, like the horse, in mire or water ; he even
fears to wet his feet, and turns away to avoid the mud.
The ass, in infancy, is a pleasant fellow, full of gaiety
and tricks. He only loses his gracefulness by ill-treatment,
and the miserable life he is forced to live.
No hairy animal is cleaner than this, and he differs in
one respect from many of his betters—the donkey never has
any fleas !
The donkey has not an idle intelligence. No being is
more reflective, more prudent, or more sober. Now, sobriety
is known to be the strength of intelligent people. Look
also at its strong head, its eyes full of reflection set deep in
their orbits, covered with large and bushy brows. But listen
to Buffon, who is never more eloquent than when he has
seen what he describes: ‘‘ The donkey attaches itself to its
master, although it is maltreated. It smells him from afar,
and distinguishes him from all other men. It also knows
the places it has inhabited, and the roads it has frequented.
It has good eyes, admirable smell, an excellent ear, which
has contributed to its being put among the timid animals,
which are all said to have very fine hearing and long ears.
When it is too much tormented, it opens its mouth, and
draws back its lips in a very disagreeable manner, with a
mocking and derisive air.”
The ass loves music. Here is aninstance. Dr. Franklin
says that a donkey of Chartres was in the habit of going to
the castle of Guerville, where they often had music. The
proprietor of this castle was a lady, who had an excellent
THE ASS. 287
voice. Every time she began to sing, the donkey never
missed coming near the windows, and there listened with
the greatest attention. One day, a piece of music having
doubtless pleased it more than all it had previously heard,
the animal quitted its ordinary post, entered the room
without ceremony, and began to bray with all its might!
A Musical Connoisseur. |
This fact seems to contradict the opinion of Erasmus,
who declares that this cross-bearing quadruped has very
Tittle inclination for music. It is true that he adds in behalf
of his protégé this extenuating circumstance, that if the
donkey contributes little to harmony during its life, it gene-
rously serves it after death, by furnishing the best skins for
making the large musical cases, and the best material for
clarionets !
288 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
The memory of the donkey is remarkable. The fol-
lowing account was communicated to many by Lieutenant
Alderson, of the Royal Engineers. In March, 1816, an
ass which belonged to Captain Dundas had been em-
barked at Gibraltar, for the island of Malta, in the frigate
Ister. ‘The vessel which carried it having touched some
sandbanks near Cape Gata, the donkey was thrown over-
board, to give it a chance of regaining land. The lot of the
poor animal was deplorable, for the sea rolled so terribly,
that a boat which had left the vessel was lost. Some days
after, when in the morning the gates of Gibraltar were
opened, the donkey presented itself for admission into Mr.
Week’s stable. Valiant, such was the animal’s name, had
before occupied this place. Great was the surprise of the
honest merchant. He imagined that, for some reason or
other, the donkey had never been placed on board the Js¢er.
On the return of the ship the mystery was cleared. Not
only had Valiant swam safe and sound to the shore, but,
without guide, without compass, without a geographical map,
had found its way from Cape Gata to Gibraltar, a distance
of more than 200 miles, over a country it had never crossed
before this adventure. It was a mountainous country, dif
ficult, and intersected by streams of water. The short time
in which this journey had been accomplished showed that
the animal had not gone from the nght road.
One author says, with much reason, that “the contempt
which certain fabulists have heaped on the character of
the donkey is more absurd than the respect which our
humorist Sterne had for this creature.” “I cannot,” said he,
“strike this animal. There is such patience, such resigna-
tion written in its looks and its behaviour—all that pleads
so much for it—that it disarms me. I do not like to speak
THE ASS. 289
to it rudely. When I meet it, no matter where, in town or
in country, attached to a wagon or under baskets, in liberty
or in servitude, I have always something civil to say to it,
and my imagination then endeavours to comprehend its
answers by the expression of its features.”
Could we see daily before us the beautiful asses of Spain,
Arabia, and Persia, some attempts would certainly be made
to improve the breed and general condition of our degraded
British donkeys. The highly-bred asses of Persia are said
by travellers to be “the handsomest animals in the world ;”
and, instead of being left to the neglect of the lowest and
most ignorant classes, are eagerly purchased by the noble
and luxurious. Among all Asiatic people the animal was
held in a respect which we can hardly understand, and
which places all our proverbs in direct antagonism to those
of the East. To liken a man to an ass is, with us, a term
of the highest contempt; but when the dying patriarch
Jacob wished to describe the fertile regions to be allotted
to Issachar, he could select no phrase more descriptive than
the words “strong ass.”* The wild asses of Central Asia
preserve to this day their ancient fame for courage, energy,
and discipline. The sight of a vast troop of these active
creatures, marching under the guidance of leaders, will
scatter all our Western notions about an animal which,
having degraded, we now despise.
But even our common “donkey” does sometimes amaze
_ his owner by some feat supposed to be far above his powers.
A Yorkshire farmer, quoted by Mr. Jackson in his “ Dumb
Companions,” declared that, whenever a trick was played
_ by his animals, the demure-looking donkey was sure to be
* Genesis xlix. 14.
290 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
the ringleader. Some horses and a donkey were one day
secured in a meadow, next to a field of oats. It was soon
clear to the farmer that the animals had discovered some
mode of getting into the ripening corn, and, a watch being
set, the trick was discovered. The donkey was seen to
unfasten, with his teeth, the spring-catch of the field-gate—
a work which none of his nobler associates would have
attempted. The horses seemed perfectly aware of their
companion’s superior abilities, standing quietly by until the
ass finished his self-appointed task.
' This animal sometimes combines a laughable obstinacy
with intelligence. Some recent writer tells the following
story of a Lancashire donkey belonging to a carrier. The
master was accustomed to stop at a public-house for ale, a
little of which was always kindly given to his quadruped
- companion and fellow-worker. Matters went on nicely for
some time; but men, whether politicians, theologians, or
carriers, are liable to change opinions and habits. ‘The
donkey’s owner became a teetotaler—a conversion which
the animal would have tolerated had it not diminished his
own enjoyment. The carrier could no longer call for ale,
therefore had no further occasion to call at the public-house.
But there were two opinions on this point. When the carrier
came to the well-known spot, ‘“ Forward” was his motto ;
but the donkey drew up deliberately, as of old, not being
aware of any change in his master’s mind: The carrier
applied the usual arguments to the animal’s skin in vain, to
the intense delight of the publican, who held teetotalism to
be the eighth deadly sin. What was to be done? Budgea
foot the donkey would not without his usual sip of ale, and
the carrier was too kind-hearted to belabour his old friend
when he saw the state of the case. But it was provoking
THE ASS. 291
that he, a conscientious and determined teetotaler, must —
actually purchase ale to please his own ass. The man had
also the additional mortification of remembering that he had
formed the habit of the animal by his own act and deed.
The dispute ended by the donkey getting the ale whenever
he passed that way. It was a sad case of animal degrada-
tion, doubtless; but, though the ass sunk as a moralist, he
rose as a genius. It was an honour, thought some, to have
such a donkey in the district.
SWINE.
SoME, on reading the heading of this chapter, may think
that we ought to have passed over an animal so utterly
wanting in dignity. We will not argue the question
here in reference to our ordinary pigs, but only ask our
critic to have a little talk with some hunter who has stood
the charge of the wild boar in a Russian forest. The
inquirer may chance to find the said hunter full of deep
respect for the gallant bearing of the tusked foe. Swine are
connected in structure not only with the pachydermata, but
also with the ruminants and carnivora. But our main
object being to exhibit the intelligence, and not the complex
_anatomical relationship of animals, we must omit further
reference to the exact position occupied by the family of
swine. Perhaps few would expect many proofs of either
high instinct or low reason in these animals. ‘Those who
are best acquainted with their habits claim for them quali-
ties which are by no means commonly ascribed to them.
There can be little doubt that pigs possess a strong memory.
The best proof of this is the readiness with which they will
find their way back from new to old haunts, from which
they have been taken. Among the instances of animal
sagacity recorded by Mr. Watson is that of two pigs bought
by a farmer at Reading market, to which they had been
brought from a distance of some miles. The two animals
were taken to the farm of the purchaser at Caversham,
about two miles from Reading. Next morning there was a
SWINE. 293
great cry; the pigs were missing, and for some time nothing
could be heard of the fugitives. At length news came that
two pigs had been seen swimming across the Thames. The
next bit of intelligence traced them to Pangbourne, and .the
result was that the determined animals presented themselves
at their old home after a journey of nine miles through cross
roads and lanes. These pigs clearly acted in concert,
escaping together, swimming the deep river in close com-
panionship, and both entering their former home at the
same time. These “path-findings” are by no means rare
with pigs, many similar cases being mentioned by authors.
The obstinacy of the pig is almost as proverbial as that
of the mule, but Bernard Gilpin gives the animal a certi-
ficate for docility. This writer affirms that, with kind
treatment, a pig may become an “ orderly, docile animal,”
and winds up by declaring that the animal may “be led
with a straw.” Mr. Gilpin does, indeed, admit that the pig
“may have a degree of positiveness in his temper ;” but
may not that much be said of many men—ay, and of women
too? In truth, if the pig were not docile, how could he
ever have become learned ? But we have all heard of the
“learned pig,” which did not reach, perhaps, the heights of
syntax, but had certainly mastered the elements of etymo-
logy. This pig had not only learned the alphabet, but
could pick up cards having the letters on them, and place
them so as to form words. It was not a high degree ot
learning, some will say; very true, but remember the pupil
was a pig. Even such a degree of scholarship could not
have been attained by an animal with a feeble memory and
without powers of combination. Nor must it be forgotten
that there have been several learned pigs; so that the
honours of the race do not depend solely on the exceptional
204 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
genius of one individual. A learned sheep is a marvel yet
to arise ; no learned ox even can be produced, though old
stories do hint something about a speaking ox. But we
have our serious doubts on the point, and require more
evidence before believing in these heathen miracles. At
present, then, the advocates of the swine may rely on the
past performances of a succession of learned pigs.
What shall we say about the intelligence of the pig
which learned by a little teaching to rival and even to excel
the pointer in the art of pointing at game? ‘The feats of
this keen-scented sow, and the tact with which she would
stand at birds which the dogs had missed, may be read in
Bingley’s “ Memoirs of British Quadrupeds.”. A good
scent may have aided this animal, but she must have
possessed the capacity for receiving and retaining in-
struction. This instance of a peculiar aptitude in the pig
does not stand alone; others may be found in the work of
Mr. Youatt.
Many persons can scarcely be brought to listen to
evidence of intelligence in an animal which they deem
degraded by its love for dirt. Here is another great mis-
take. The pig is naturally a very clean animal, and would
never sleep upon dirty straw if it could obtain clean.
Thoughtless and negligent men shut up the animal in a
wretchedly kept sty, and then wonder at its unclean habits.
As well might we say that man is naturally fond of dirt,
because neglected children are coarse and low in behaviour.
The pig is seen sometimes to wallow in dirty pools, but
this is done to cool the skin, and it is not the animal’s fault
if the only water it can find is a muddy pond. The dis-
gusting state of many farmyards is such as no pig would
tolerate if it had the direction of affairs.
SWINE. 295
It is not to be expected that the natural quickness of
these animals should be much developed in a sty. When
large herds are allowed to wander, under the management
of keepers, in the beech and oak forests, their acuteness
and energy are evident enough to all who can watch their
habits. The wild species have little opportunity of showing
any quality except their courage, which man calls ferocity.
Man will charge his human foes with sabre and bayonet, and
sweep their ranks with rifled artillery, without deeming him-
self a savage. But when a hunted boar turns in desperation
upon his armed pursuers, and gores horse and man with his
tusks, this is called ferocity. It is, in reality, only “the noble
art of self-defence,” as practised by an assaulted animal.
Thus man can only, in general, note the intelligence of
the wild species of swine as it is displayed in battle against
him.
The Badiroussa,* or Asiatic double-tusked swine, are but
little known at present, but the peccaries of South America
show an almost military skill in combining to resist attack.
Often when the hunter has shot several of these wild pigs,
he finds himself surrounded by a rapidly-gathering host. If
no tree be near, the man perishes by a thousand tusks,
and even should he ascend one, the peccaries will wait
for hours round the tree until hunger compels them to seek
for food.
The above few remarks may serve to show that neither
the domesticated nor the wild swine are so deficient in
intelligence as many have supposed.
* Hog-deer.
THE CARNIVORA.
AMONG animals, those whose appetite leads them to obtain
their nourishment from flesh exhibit a larger amount of in-
telligence. ‘‘ Nature has given them,” says Leroy, “very fine
senses, with great force and activity, necessary to them, be-
cause, having to nourish themselves by warring continually
with other species, they would soon perish from hunger
if possessing inferior or even equal powers.” With Leroy,
we admit the work of the senses in the intellectual mani-
festations. We have already declared that a large de-
velopment of the senses could supply even a want of
perfection in the brain, in the same manner that a more
lively instinct will give energy to indifferent powers of
intellect; but the senses, the source of instinct, are only
the messengers of the intelligence. If we believed to the
letter the law of intelligence drawn from the development
of the brain hemispheres, we should perhaps find some
contradictory statements respecting the carnivora, which
order contains animals extremely intelligent and equally
stupid. The brain is not the less the organ of intelli-
gence. Leroy has studied so profoundly the intellectual
faculties of this order of the animal creation, that we cannot
resist the desire of referring to his chapter on the intelli-
gence of the wolf and the fox. It is not, says he, entirely
to the fineness of their senses that animals owe the vigour
of their understanding; but the lively interests, such as
THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS. : 297
those of overcoming difficulties and avoiding perils, which
keep in practice the power of feeling, and impress on the
creature’s memory the multiplied facts which all together form
the guides of its conduct. Thus, in places distant from all
habitations, and where game is abundant, the life of carni-
vorous beasts is limited to numerous similar and simple
actions. They pass successively from rich plunder to
sleep. But when man places obstacles in the way of
satisfying their appetites, when he prepares pit-falls under
the steps of animals, and puts all. kinds of snares in their
way, keeping them in continual fear, then a- powerful
interest forces them to be careful.
These obstacles offer the animal two ways of acting,
which it will be as well to consider separately. The one
is purely natural, very simple, and limited to few sensations;
such is, probably, in certain respects, the life of the savage.
The other springs from education, and is more active and
full of interest and of fears, which in some measure repre-
sent the agitations of civilised man. The first is generally
the same in all carnivorous species. The other varies
more in one kind than another, by reason of the organisa-
tion being more or less happy. The two modes of life
must be compared together.
THE CAT
Can a creature possessing the highest carnivorous propen-
sities be endowed with any intelligence at all? Such a
question might be expected by some from one of the most
fanatical members of the non-fighting club, but cannot be
- seriously proposed by any one who has studied the cha-
racters of great warriors. Was Czesar an imbecile? Was
Alexander a stupid? Why, then, should warlike and pre-
dacious animals be deemed inferior to ruminants or rodents ?
We do not intend to examine how far the larger cats, such
as the lion, tiger, and leopard, may be distinguished for
intelligence, our object being to ascertain the capacities of
the common domestic mouser. Many readers are aware of
the superstitious awe in which cats have been held by various
nations in past times—a feeling rather opposed to the notion
of the animal’s stupidity. It has even been credited with
supernatural powers, and was once regarded as the most
able agent of the witch in her awful incantations. These
women were supposed, on certain important occasions, to
be able to transform themselves into cats, for the greater
convenience of holding their dreadful revelries. Even so
late as the year 1718 the sheriff of Caithness instituted a
solemn judicial inquiry into the extraordinary and unwar-
rantable conduct of a host of cats, alleged to be witches in
disguise. The unhappy complainant in the investigation ~
was a Mr. William Montgomery, who deposed to numerous
se
THE CAT. 299
instances of malicious persecution on the part of the witch-
cats. Puss has, therefore, borne an important part on the
“night side” of human nature, and many persons may agree
with Sir Walter Scott when he declares cats to be “a very
mysterious kind of folk.” But as our views respecting these
animals are much more prosaic, let us consider a few well-
attested facts illustrating the intelligence of the race.
When an animal learns to open the door of a closet by
lifting the latch with its paws, we may safely admit that
observation of the mode in which the door was opened’ by
the inhabitants of the house must have been combined with
some degree of reasoning. This feat has been performed
by cats when any projecting ledge has given them a standing-
place while the foot was lifting the latch.
The cat’s love for the places to which she has been
long accustomed is well known, and the journeys sometimes
undertaken to regain the old home are proofs of the animal’s
perseverance and acuteness. Mr. Jackson gives a little
history which illustrates both the affection of the cat for her
young and her strong attachment to a former abode. This
animal had been removed to a new house, and having
kittens soon after, it was naturally thought she would be-
come accustomed to the place. For a time, Puss sub-
mitted to destiny, attending upon two kittens with all due
care. One day the cat and one kitten disappeared ; the
one left behind could feed a little. But where had the
mother gone? In two or three days, as was afterwards
found, she and the kitten appeared at the old house in a
deplorably weak condition. Being well-treated, she soon
recovered, and actually returned for the other kitten, which,
out of pure pity and admiration for her perseverance, she
was permitted to lead away. Mrs. Lee mentions a cat which
300 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
found its way back to a former home across two rivers. The
distance to be travelled was only about five miles, but the
energy evinced by such an animal in crossing the streams
gives the incident its singular character. ‘The determination
to return, and the local associations, must have been strong
in this cat, as she had been closely shut up for some days in
the new home. In this case memory must have been as
strong as the energy was decisive. ‘These instances are not
uncommon, and if our object were simply to accumulate
facts, a very large collection might soon be made, all proving
the strength of memory in cats. In one of these a cat made
a journey of forty miles, carrying not one but two kittens
with her the whole way. Mr. Jesse has recorded this
walking and carrying performance of the cat.
Some of the accounts given of the recollection of persons
by these animals are as wonderful as those relating to places.
Crimes are even said to have been thus detected. In a dog
this would not very much surprise many, but we do not
expect such exhibitions of superiority in the mouse-hunter.
Mrs. Lee describes the mode in which the agitation and fury
of a cat, in the presence of suspected murderers, led to the
discovery of evidence which brought the case home to the
criminals, The mistress of this cat was found murdered in
her room, the only living inhabitant of the apartment being
a large cat, which remained motionless on a shelf, notwith-
standing the crowds who poured into the room on the
discovery of the deed. At length two or three men entered,
towards whom suspicion already pointed. When the cat
saw these, it darted in a fury from its place of refuge, sprung
towards the new comers as if about to attack, and then
darted, as if frightened, under the bedstead. The extra-
ordinary conduct of the animal told upon the superstitious
a
THE CAT. 301
fears of the ruffians, whose confused behaviour led to further
investigation, and to the consequent punishment of the guilty.
There is nothing so very astonishing in all this, if we admit
a strong memory in the cat. An animal accustomed to sit
quietly by its mistress would naturally have all its emotions
roused by the violence accompanying a murder. Having
memory, what more likely than the excitement shown when
the murderers again presented themselves? Other instances
of this kind are given in various works.
These animals, when well treated, will often show a
remarkable affection for creatures towards which, in general,
they manifest a marked hostility or dread. Cats have
exhibited the most laughable friendships for dogs, refusing
to sleep except between the paws of their canine associates.
This has often been seen when the two animals have grown
up together, and when the dog has never been incited to
attack the weaker animal. All this shows a power of adap-
tation to circumstances, and a capacity of being trained,
which can hardly belong to mere instinct. Still more sur-
prising, perhaps, is the change of natural habit which is
shown when the cat becomes fond of a bird. If there be
one little thing more likely to attract Puss than even a
mouse, it is the fluttering movement of winged life. Yet
pet cats and pet canaries have been known to live on the
most loving terms together. This must have been the
triumph of a trained intelligence over instinct. In one
case the two lovers were cat and goose, and the bird never
seemed more happy than when waddling about with the
feline friend seated on her back.
When the cat conquers her natural dislike to water in
pursuit of fish, we have another instance of the plasticity
of the animal’s faculties. A liking for fish as food seems
302 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
instinctive in the cat; the dislike to water is equally instinc-
tive; but sometimes this latter tendency is completely over-
come for the sake of gratifying the former. Cats have keen
known to plunge into water in pursuit of fish with all the
zeal of otters. Even one such case shows how animal
habits may be modified by the law of circumstances. It
‘thus appears, then, that we can trace, even in cats, the
workings of intelligence acting in combination with the
impulses of instinct.
THE WOLF.
THE wolf is the most robust of the carnivorous animals in
the temperate climates of Europe. Nature has furnished it
with a great voracity and many wants, in proportion to its
force. It possesses very fine senses, a piercing eye, and a
nose which aids in detecting everything that presents itself.
When in good practice, it learns by these senses the rela-
tion which objects have to itself There is a vast differ-
ence between the gait of a young and inexperienced wolf
and that of an old and experienced one. The young wolves,
after having passed two months in the den, where the father
and mother nourish them, follow the latter, which is no
longer able to satisfy a voracity daily becoming stronger.
They help her in destroying animals, assisting in the hunt,
and by degrees they succeed in aiding her to obtain the
necessary food for their mutual support. The habitual
exercise in plundering, under the eyes of an experienced
mother, and having her example to follow, soon trains them’
They learn to remember those places frequented by ~
game; their senses are alive to the slightest impressions ;
they accustom themselves to rectify by the sense of smell-
ing the judgment which the other senses give them
When they are eight or nine months old the she-wolf
quits the preceding year’s brood; she flees from or hunts
her children, who ought not to need her any longer;
and the young wolves find themselves abandoned to their
304 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
own resources. The family remains united for some time,
and this association is necessary to it; but the natural
voracity of these animals soon separates them, because they
cannot long bear the partition of the prey. The strongest
remain masters of the ground ; and those who are weaker
go elsewhere to pass their life, or often to end it in hunger.
The little experience which they yet have exposes them to
all the perils which man prepares for them. It is then
that they scour the country to look for the dead bodies
of animals, because they have neither strength nor clever-
ness, as yet, to kill them. When they exist through this
time of difficulty, their increased strength, and the instruction
they have acquired, give them more skill in hunting. They
are then able to attack large animals, of which one only
will support them for several days. When they have slain
one, they devour a part, and carefully hide the remains ; but
this precaution does not keep them from the -chase, and
they only have recourse to what they have hidden when
the hunt has been unproductive.
The wolf lives thus, in the excitement of the chase,
during the night, and in an uneasy and light sleep during
the day. This is its purely natural life; but in places
where its wants are found opposed to man’s wishes,
the continual necessity of avoiding the traps set, and of
providing for safety, constrain the wolf to extend the
sphere of its activity to a much larger number of objects.
Its walk, naturally free and bold, becomes precautionary
and timid; its appetite is often suspended by fear; it
distinguishes and recalls facts connected with its safety.
Thus, at the same time that the wolf scents a flock
enclosed in a park, the fear of the shepherd and his
dog is recalled by memory, and balances the actual
THE WOLF. 305
impression which he receives by the presence of sheep.
He measures the height of the fold, compares it with his
strength, judges of the difficulty of leaping it when loaded
with his prey, and decides as to the uselessness or danger
of the attempt. However, in the midst of a flock spread
over the country, he will seize a sheep in sight of the shep-
herd, particularly if the neighbourhood of a wood leaves
Wolves attacking a Flock.
him the hope of hiding himself before being caught. It is
not necessary for an adult wolf to have much experience,
- when he is living in the neighbourhood of habitations, to
learn that man is his enemy. As soon as man appears, the
wolf is pursued; the riot and commotion show him how
much he is hated, and all that he has to dread. Every time
that the scent of man strikes his nose, it awakes in him
thoughts of danger. The most seducing prey is presented
U
306 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
to him uselessly, because it has an alarming suggestiveness,
and even when it has it no longer, it leaves him suspicious
for a long time. The wolf, then, can, at first, only have
an abstract idea of danger, because he has not an intimate
knowledge of the trap set for him. However, he entertains
this idea, approaching a suspicious object by scarcely per-
ceptible degrees ; several nights hardly suffice to re-assure
him. The scent of man suggests the notion of peril, and
renders suspicious the most dainty baits.
It is a science of dread that the wolf is obliged to
acquire ; the interest in his preservation is never wanting
in an adult wolf who has much experience, and extends
more or less according to the circumstances which oblige
him to think for himself and reflect. Without arguing like
us, it is at least necessary that he should compare the
feelings of danger he has experienced; that he should
judge of the relations which objects have to each other,
and those that they have with regard to him, Without
this it would be impossible for him to foresee what he
ought to fear or hope from objects. Naturally more rough
than distrustful, experience renders the wolf watchful, and
necessity makes him industrious. But he only has these
qualities by acquisition, and they are never his natural
powers. If he is hunted by dogs he only rids himself of
the pursuit by his superior speed and power of lung. He
never has recourse to doubling, and other schemes of
weaker animals. The only precaution he takes, and in-
deed which he can take, is to always flee with his nose
to the wind; this sense of smell warns him faithfully of
the dangerous objects which he may encounter on his road.
He turns enough to avoid peril, but without losing the
wind, which is always his guide. - As he is vigorous and
THE WOLF. 307
practised, and the chase has often forced him to run over
a large extent of country, he directs his course towards the
far-off places which he knows, and we cannot succeed in
' misleading him without multiplying ambuscades with much
difficulty and preparation.
The wolf employs, when seeking his food, all his watch-
fulness and strength. He takes measures to assure himself
of the place where he will find his prey. And if in this re-
search he chooses one place rather than another, this choice
arises from facts previously known. He thus observes for
a long time the different kinds of peril to which he is ex-
posed ; and this calculation of probabilities holds him in
suspense till appetite comes to put a weight in the balance
and determines it. Precautions for safety require more
foresight, that is to say, a greater number of facts engraved
in the memory. The wolf must then compare all these
facts with the sensations he feels, judge of the relation
between these facts and the sensation, and at last come
to a decision. All these operations are absolutely neces-
sary. For example, it would be wrong to think that the
fear which is excited by a sudden noise in the greater part
of the carnivorous animals is a purely mechanical effect.
The agitation of a leaf only excites in a young wolf a
movement of curiosity; but the instructed wolf, who has
seen the movement of a leaf announce a man, frightens
himself with reason, because he judges of the relation
_ between these two phenomena. When these have been
often repeated, and the repetition has rendered habitual
the actions which are the consequences of them, the
promptitude with which the action follows the decision
makes it appear mechanical. With a little reflection, it
is impossible to misunderstand the steps which tead to it.
Uee
308 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
It may be that the idea of this relation between the move-
ment of a leaf and the presence of man is very lively, and
realised on different occasions: then it will be established
in the memory as a general idea. The wolf will find him-
_ self subject to idle fancies and false decisions, which are the
fruit of imagination ; and if these false opinions extend to
a certain number of objects, he will become the plaything
of illusions which will precipitate him into an infinity of
false proceedings. He will see traps where there are none ;
fright, deranging his imagination, will represent to him, in
another order, the different feelings which he has received,
and will form out of them deceiving forms, to which he will
attach an abstract idea of peril. ‘This, in fact, is noticed in
carnivorous animals everywhere, when they are often hunted
and continually besieged with traps. Their proceedings
have no longer the assurance and liberty of nature. ‘The
hunter, in following the animal’s steps, only seeks to dis-
cover its lair. But the philosopher reads there the history of
its thoughts ; he unravels the uneasiness, frights, and hopes
of the animal; he sees the motives which have rendered
the steps precautionary, which have suspended or quickened
them.
Associated wolves hunt together, and the help they give
each other renders their chase easier and safer. If it isa
question of attacking a flock, the she-wolf occupies herself
with the dog, which she draws away after her, while the male
leaps the fold and carries off a sheep. If they want to
attack a wild beast, their work is divided according to
strength. The he-wolf goes in search, attacks the animal,
pursues it, and then the she-wolf attacks with fresh strength,
and renders in a short time the combat very unequal.
It is easy to see how such actions result from intelli- —
THE WOLF. 309
gence, but it seems difficult to form associations of this
nature without an articulate language. However, as has
been said, the wolf is one of those carnivorous animals
which, considering its strength, has the least need of
artifice. The necessity of rapine, the habit of murder,
and the daily enjoyment of animals’ limbs, torn and bleed-
ing, do not appear as if they could form in the wolf a
very Interesting character. Yet, except in the case of
_ rivalry, one does not see that wolves exercise direct cruelty
against one another. As society exists between them,
they defend each other mutually, and maternal tenderness
is carried in the wolves to an excess of zeal which entirely
despises peril. It is said that a wounded wolf is followed,
and at last devoured by its fellows. But this is a rather
disputed fact, which is surely not common, and may have
sometimes been an effect of that necessity which knows no
law. Every being leading a hard and isolated life, divided
between solitary work and sleep, can be but slightly sensible
to feelings of compassion.
THE EOxS
Tue fox has the same wants as the wolf, and the same
inclination for plunder. He has senses as fine, more
activity, and more suppleness; but he wants strength, and
is constrained to supply the want by cleverness, tricks, and
patience. One of the first effects of industry in which he
is superior to the wolf, is that of making for himself a
burrow, which shelters him from the coldness of the air, and
serves him at the same time for a retreat. In order to
spare himself trouble, he generally takes possession of those
inhabited by rabbits, hunting them out and establishing
himself. When some reason determines him on changing
his locality, his first care is to visit all the burrows which
may suit him, above all, those formerly inhabited by foxes.
He examines them successively, and it is not till he has
gone through them all that he fixes himself at last. But, if
he is disturbed, even lightly, in that which he has chosen,
he soon changes, and does not allow discomfort to approach
the place which he has destined for his dwelling. The fox
thus established, surveys in a short time all the environs of
his burrow for a long distance. He takes notice of the
villages, the hamlets, the isolated houses, and examines the
poultry yards; he informs himself of the places where the dog
is loud and active, and of those where tranquillity reigns ;
he remembers the hedges and covered places which could
favour his escape in case of peril. This train of pre-
om ‘?
THE FOX. Sur
cautions, and so many possibilities foreseen, necessarily
show that many facts are fixed in his memory. Always
guided in his pace by a decided mistrust, he rarely lets
himself be carried away in the heat of pursuit to follow a
fiying prey ; he gets near it, creeping along, and seizes it
by jumping on it lightly. When he is well assured that
tranquillity reigns in a poultry-yard, he tries to enter it, and
his natural activity easily gives him the means. ‘Then, if
he is not disturbed, he profits by multiplying murders, till
the approach of day makes him fear for his safety, and he
retreats. He thus collects provisions for several days, and
hides with care all the remains against a time of need.
If the fox is established in a country where there 1s much
shooting, his industry has other forms to take to satisfy his
voracity. Sometimes he runs about the country, with his
nose to the wind, detects a hare in its dwelling, or some
partridges lying down in a furrow. He approaches in
silence ; his steps, scarcely heard on the soft earth, show
his lightness and the intention he has of surprising, and he
often succeeds. Sometimes the fox succeeds by patience ;
he glides through the whole of the wood, observes a rabbit’s
run, hides himself, waits, and seizes the victim when it is
unprepared.
But the hunt is not always immediately the object of the
fox. Although satisfied with food, active foresight makes
the animal again go out, less with the intention to seek for
prey, than to acquaint itself more surely with the country
which furnishes it with food. It often comes again on the
same burrows it has before seen, goes the round of them
with much precaution, enters, and carefully examines the
different holes. The fox gradually approaches objects which
are new to him: all novelty is suspicious, and each step in-
312 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
dicates distrust and examination. However, the fox is
often taken in snares, when these are not known to him ;
but as soon as they are noted, they become of no use.
There is then no allurement which can make the fox
brave the danger it recognises or suspects. It discovers
the iron of the snare, and this sensation becomes terrible
to it, and overcomes every other impression.
If the fox perceive that the snares are multiplied, it
leaves its present home to find one more safe. Some-
times, emboldened by gradual and reiterated approaches,
guided by the sure smell, it will find the means of quietly
stealing a bait without exposing itself to the trap. One
sees that this action supposes a keen sight and complicated
combinations. We should never finish if we detailed all the
causes which make the fox change its home, the motives
which balance the power of habit, and all the varieties of its
conduct. All this is necessary to a weak animal, which finds
itself in competition with man, who opposes its wants and
its pleasures. If it be a natural advantage to have a retreat,
and a domicile, this is also one means more by which man
attacks the fox. He easily discovers its dwelling, and
then comes to take it; but man, with all his machines,
wants much experience to overcome the prudence and
cunning of the fox. If all the openings of the burrow
are covered by snares, the animal discovers them, and
sooner than be entrapped exposes itself to the most
cruel hunger. We have known some remain nearly fif-
teen days in a hole, determined not to go out until
hunger has left them no other choice than that of death.
This fear which seizes the fox is neither mechanical nor
inactive. There is no attempt it does not make to avoid
peril ; as long as its claws remain it works at making a new
~
THE FOX. 318
opening, by which it often escapes from the snare of the
hunter. If some rabbit has just been caught in one of the
traps, the animal judges that the machine has done its
work, and passes out boldly.
The only passion which makes the fox omit its ordi-
nary precautions is affection for its family. The necessity
of feeding the young renders the father and mother, but
especially the former, more bold than they are for them-
selves, and this pressing interest makes them often brave
peril. Hunters know how to profit by this love of the fox
for the family. Common cares and interests engender
affections which spread far beyond physical wants, properly
so called. ‘These animals, familiar with scenes of blood,
do not hear, without being moved, the cries of their little
suffering ones. Chickens certainly have the right of not
looking upon them as compassionate animals; but their
females, their children, and all of their species have not
anything to complain of. This tender inquietude, which
leads the female fox to forget herself, renders her keenly
attentive to all dangers which might threaten the little ones.
If a man comes near the burrow she carries them away
during the following night; and she is often forced to
turn out thus, because at these times the foxes arouse the
neighbourhood by their ravages.
Besides the interest which man has in destroying the
fox, he has made the hunting of this animal a means of
amusement. At first the fox does not go very far from its
retreat, but when alarmed by pursuit it goes far away, and
to retard the progress of the dogs, passes into the thickets,
which it well knows. If some hunters lie in wait to fire as
it passes, it shuns them, and will attempt anything rather
than pass near a man,
314 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
We have seen one jump backwards and forwards three
times over a wall nine feet high, to avoid the ambuscades
prepared for it. But as the fox has only flight as a resource,
and has less vigour than the dogs, after having exhausted all
its power of flight, its dexterity and schemes, fatigue forces
it to hide in some hole, where it often perishes.
It has been remarked that this animal’s customary
manner of living, and the details of its daily actions, lead
us to expect deeper plans, more complicated schemes,
and a wider and keener sight than the wolf has. Prudence
is the resource of weakness, and it often guides the feeble
better than boldness does strength. Montaigne shows
how the inhabitants of Thrace, when they wish to pass
over the ice of some frozen river, use the intelligence of
the fox.
“They loosen a fox and send it before them. We saw
the animal go to the river’s bank, and put its ear close to
the ice, as if to judge the thickness of the ice from the
sound of the flowing water beneath. As it found by that
means the ice to be more or less thick, so it went or drew
back.”
May we, then, not be right in judging that the same
ideas pass through its head as through ours, and that it thus
arranged an argument, and drew a conclusion: whatever
makes a noise or moves is not frozen: whatever is not
frozen is liquid; and whatever is liquid bends under the
weight? To attribute that process to a lively sense of hear-
ing only, without any reflection, may be a dream of our
imagination. George Leroy adds that we remark in these
animals an aptitude to teach themselves. They are ignorant
and imbecile in places where. open war is not made upon
them, but become clever, penetrating, and cunning when
THE FOX, 315
fear of pain or death, presented under a thousand forms, has
made them feel multiphed sensations.
These sensations are fixed in their memory; they
produce judgments, which are not always sure, but ex-
perience rectifies them. It is easy to recognise in the
——
in
A Fox trying the Ice,
different ages of these animals their progress in the art of
judging. In youth, imprudence and giddiness cause many
false steps. Even the perils to which they are exposed
often mislead their judgment, and make them look upon all
unknown forms as dangerous.
Old wolves and foxes, which necessity has often put in
316 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
the way of verifying their judgments, are less apt to be
struck by false appearances, but are more cautious against
real dangers. A misplaced fear may cause them to lose a
night’s work and a dinner. ‘They have, therefore, a deep
interest in acquiring habits of close observation. Their
wants produce attention, and this power, once gained,
enables the fox to separate the particulars which distinguish
one object from another. The constant repetition of such
acts renders the judgment of old foxes prompt, easy, and
sure.
THE DOG.
Do you know a more intelligent and devoted friend than
the dog? When young you did what you liked with him;
used him for a horse, rode on him, tied him to your barrow,
you pulled his tail and his ears, and sometimes you varied
your amusements by beating him.
He never complained; on the contrary, he seemed happy
to receive even your maltreatments ; he cried a little, but he
soon licked your hand, looked at you with the kindest eye,
and even seemed to offer his back to have the honour of
carrying you. Later, when you went to school, what was
the last caress you received, the last cry you heard? It
was that of your dog, which for a long time followed the
carriage. And when you returned, without the least prize,
who received you with the greatest joy, enthusiasm, and
sincere friendship >—your dog. Poor beast! one would
think he wished all the village to know you had arrived,
he barked as loudly as he could, caressed your feet, ran
to you in a frenzy of joy, and seemed to wish to send away
all those who approached you.
Poor dog! He has been your protector and comforter,
he is now your friend and companion, sharing your joys
and pursuits. He accompanies you in the chase, and
becomes, as it’were, one with you. He is your guide, and
you have only to follow his steps and least movements. It
is he who teaches you to become skilful as a sportsman,
318 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
_ seeming to say, ‘Seek, and you will find”—you only kill
and profit by it. He does not ask to share the booty, but
as a reward for his untiring zeal, weariness, and bleeding
paws, craves only a morsel of bread and a little water—
above all, a kind look and a good word.
He begs no more, but, if you would make him very
happy, let him lie on the carpet by your side, then he could
not be happier. All night he dreams of the chase, gets up,
fancies he is in pursuit, and seizes the prey, then barks in
his sleep. But this is not all; this noble animal will do
more ; by his affection he becomes your confidant, your
messenger of love ; announces your arrival when you go
to pay a visit. He can be gay to gain approbation, or
grave, according to your will. He loves those whom you
love, and in this respect will often be your best counsellor.
You can judge by his manner of treating them who are
friends and who are foes. But it is above all in time of
trouble, when misfortune has shown you the hollowness of
the world, that you can fully appreciate the tenderness,
fidelity, and devotion of the dog. He will console and
caress you, lick your hand, and regard you with a fond
eye. .
Everything in the disposition of a dog can be turned to
account, because his nature is confiding and noble. Most
dogs are 4rdent in their feelings, and full of sagacious
activity. But if you would make use of this activity, you
must first gain their hearts by kindness, and, we must say,
by flattering them a little.
It is easy to understand that an animal, even with but
little brain, being so wonderfully gifted with fine senses,
might manifest much intelligence. The celebrated phreno-
logist, Gall, had a dog which possessed, he said, the organ
THE DOG. 319
of word-memory. ‘On this subject I have made,” says this
phrenologist, “the following observations:—I have often
spoken intentionally of things which might interest my dog,
avoiding the mention of his name, and not letting any gesture
escape me which would be likely to arouse his attention.
He always exhibited pleasure or pain suitable to the occasion,
and by his conduct afterwards showed that he understood
perfectly well.”
When Gall quitted Germany to establish himself at Paris,
he brought his dog with him. At first the animal appeared
astonished and unhappy, because he could not understand
the conversation. However, by degrees, he learned some
French, becoming equally clever in that as in German. “T
assured myself of this,” said Gall, “in sometimes speaking
to him in French, and sometimes in German.”
A person well known to Chaillot by the nick-name of
“The Dog’s Mother,” has ptoved that the dog perfectly
understands much of the conversation carried on before him.
M. Louis Noir relates that one day she made a decisive
experiment in his presence. She pretended to be nego-
ciating the sale of her favourite spaniel ; she argued the
terms, without any peculiarity of manner, and without raising
her voice. The dog began whining immediately, rolling
at her feet, and entreating her, in dog-fashion, not to sell
him. She gave twenty other conclusive proofs in a similar
manner. In the same way that the dogs comprehended
her language, she also understood theirs. She very truly
remarked that a dog does not ask for water in the same
manner that he begs for food. In fact, a dog is, perhaps,
the best example one could take in order to prove that
animals have a language of their own. It is evident that
each species of animal possesses a language suitable to its
420 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
instincts and manner of living. This language is composed
of voice and gesture. The gesticulating language is much
more extended amongst animals than that of the voice,
especially in the superior orders. The dog best unites
voice and gesture in the manifestation of its feelings.
Observe the dog: some one knocks at the door, his voice
is loud, threatening, and full of anger; his eye flashes, his
tail is erect. Beware how you enter! An instant after the
door opens—it is his master. The dog bounds forward,
shows his delight by wagging his tail, looking up into his
face, and uttering cries expressive of happiness. But
observe him also when following his master’s bier: his —
head bent downwards, his eyes fixed on the ground, his
tail drooping, his step slow, his voice silent, and his whole
attitude expressive of sorrow.
Each animal, then, has a language sufficient to express
the emotions belonging to its nature, and to make them
understood by animals of the same species, or, indeed, of
any other. Those which do not possess the organ of voice
make use of mimicry, rendering themselves well under-
stood. ‘The deficiency in one sense is compensated by the
development of another. If animals had no language,
how could they accomplish the education of their little
ones? It has been remarked that, in countries where he
fox is hunted by man, the young ones have more cunning
than the old foxes in uninhabited countries. How can
this be explained otherwise than that the young ones have
received lessons from their parents ?
The dog, as we have said, is one of the animals which
can best express its feelings by voice and gesture. The
more energetic the gesture, the greater intelligence and will
are displayed. Feeble movement shows a careless disposi-
THE DOG. aon
tion ; an energetic action, on the contrary, corresponds to
a strong will, subduing even the instincts.
Everybody has seen an infuriated dog—the ears erect,
stretched out, enlarged, and placed so as best to receive the
impressions of sound. The outside of the ear, in dogs, is
often directed to the same point as the eyes, when hunting.
The organs of the inferior senses have expressions not less
intelligible. See, says Gratiolet, how the nostrils dilate to
receive pure and refreshing air. How they pucker up at
the sides, elevate, and contract, in rejecting a bad smell.
And with what delicacy they inhale sweet odours, which
they wish to examine at leisure! And these movements
are easy and free, if the odour be agreeable. If it be dis-
agreeable, they are more irritable ; the nose then becomes
more strongly curved; the upper lip rises lightly, swelling
at its base. These motions show distrust, and a feeling
of doubt about some food they are interested in, but with
respect to which they are on their guard. The nose is
with dogs the chief director of the whole body. The
expression, the gestures, and the play of the physiognomy
are clear signs of intelligence ; and, if man alone has the
power of laughing, the sporting-dog is said to have that
of smiling.
It has often been asserted that the dog wants speech.
If Leibnitz may be believed, even that faculty is not always
wanting. This illustrious philosopher states that, in Saxony,
_ he met with a dog which could pronounce twenty words
quite distinctly.
Buffon could not refrain from acknowledging the intelli-
gence of the dog. “ For sagacity, attachment, and gratitude
—in a word, for all the effects of instinct which resemble
reason—the dog, amongst animals, is Nature’s masterpiece.
v
322 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
“The dog, faithful to man, will always maintain a certain
degree of superiority, a power of dominion, so to speak,
over the other animals. He commands and reigns supreme
over the flock, where he makes himself better heard and
understood than the shepherd. Safety, order, and discipline
are the effects of his vigilance and activity in conducting
creatures who submit to him, which he protects, and against
which he never employs violence except to maintain peace.
But it is especially in warfare, against hostile or independent
flocks of animals, that his courage and intelligence are called
forth and fully displayed. Natural talents are then united
to acquired qualities. As soon as the sound of arms is
heard, or the horn of the huntsman has given the signal for
approaching conflict, burning with ardour, the dog manifests
his joy by the most lively transports; he shows, by his
gestures and cries of impatience, the desire to combat and
vanquish. Then, moving forward silently, he reconnoitres
the country, to discover and surprise the enemy in his
stronghold. He tracks him out, follows him step by step,
and, by different sounds, indicates the distance and species
of the creature he is pursuing. In vain the enemy opposes
cunning to sagacity, and employs all the resources of its
instinct to make the pursuer lose the scent ; in vain it tries
to substitute another victim. The dog rarely misses the
object of his pursuit, discovering by the scent all the wind-
ings of the labyrinth; and, after having triumphed over
cunning, he succeeds at last in finding the object of the
search.
“‘When education has brought this natural talent to per-
fection in the domesticated dog; when he has been taught
to moderate his ardour, and regulate his movements ; when
he becomes accustomed to a kind discipline, necessary in
THE DOG. B26
the chase, he then hunts with skill, and almost always with
SUCCESS.
“The dog, independently of the beauty of his form,
vivacity, strength, and lightness, possesses, in an eminent
degree, all those qualities which are likely to attract the
regard of man. A nature ardent and choleric—nay, even
ferocious and sanguinary—renders the wild dog terrible to
all the animals. This, in the domestic dog, gives place to
the gentler dispositions, the pleasure of attaching itself, and
the desire of pleasing. He comes, humbly, to lay at his
master’s feet his courage, strength, and talents ; he awaits
his commands to put them in force ; consults, interrogates,
and supplicates him. A look is sufficient: he comprehends
wishes by signs. Without possessing, like man, the light
of reason, the dog has warmth of feeling, fidelity, and
constancy in his affections. He has neither ambition
nor interested motives, and no fear but that of dis-
pleasing. He is all zeal, ardour, and obedience. More
apt to remember benefits than outrages, he does not re-
taliate when badly treated; he submits, forgets, or only
remembers in order to become more attached. Far from
resenting or trying to escape from injury, he licks the
hand which has given the blow, only uttering piteous
cries, and finally, by his patience and submission, disarming
our anger.
“More docile and more yielding than any other
animal, not only can the dog be instructed in a short time,
but he will even conform to the habits and manners of
those around him—taking the tone, so to speak, of the
house in which he lives. Like other domestics, he is lofty
amongst great folks, and rustic when in the country;
always zealous for his master, and knowing, by instinct,
Vv 2
324 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
who are his friends. He pays no attention to indifferent
people, and shows antipathy to those whom he considers.
intruders, knowing them by their clothes, voice, and
gestures.
“While guarding the house at night, he becomes more
fierce, sometimes even ferocious. He watches, and goes
his rounds; scents strangers afar off, and, if they stop, or
try to leap the fence, he rushes at them, and, by continual
barking or growling, gives the alarm. As furious against
men as against animals, he throws himself upon thieves,
wounds and maims them, taking from them what they are
about to carry off. - Not content with having conquered, he
reposes beside the recovered spoil, without touching it,
even to satisfy his hunger; thus giving, at the same time,
examples of courage, fidelity, and temperance.
‘“‘Let us suppose, for a moment, that the dog had not
existed. How, then, could man have conquered, subdued,
and brought into bondage the other animals? How could
we, in the present day, discover, hunt, and destroy savage
beasts? To insure our own safety, and render ourselves
masters of the animal creation, we must commence by
gaining over a party among the animals themselves, con-
ciliating those capable of obedience and attachment by
mildness and caresses, so as to form an opposing party to
the others. The first effort of man has been, then, the
education of the dog, the fruits of which are the conquest
and peaceable possession of the earth.”
To this comprehensive description we will add some
very interesting observations by George Leroy. This
animal, says he, is so well known, that his example alone
would make us reject all idea of a merely mechanical
action in beasts. How, indeed, could we attribute to an
THE DOG. Ree
instinct destitute of reflection the various actions of this
intelligent animal? It is not only useful to man, but,
in subjection, preserves a rational liberty, exciting in his
master tender emotions of interest and attachment, by a
voluntary docility. According to the different methods in
which we employ the dog, we can trace the progress of his
intelligence in two different ways. One is due to the
instruction he receives—that is to say, the habits we force
him to adopt by the alternative of pain or pleasure. The
other kind of progress must be ascribed to the animal’s
own experience, his reflections on the facts he remarks and
the sensations he experiences.
The dog of the farm-yard, nearly always tied up, charged
solely with the task of barking at strangers, remains in a
state of feeble intelligence.
The sheep-dog, continually occupied in an office which
calls forth the voice and teaching of his master, shows
more spirit and discernment. All the facts relating to his
work become established in his memory. This knowledge
enables him to combine circumstances which guide him in
details and modify his actions and movements.
If the flock pass near some corn, you see the vigilant
guardian gather them together, and lead them away from
the grain, which must be protected, keeping his eye on
those who would trespass, overawing the rash by move-
ments which terrify them, and chastising the obstinate, to
which no warnings are of any avail. Do we not recognise
reason as the origin of this variety of movements, made
with so much discernment? If the dog had not learned to
distinguish the grain from the ordinary pasture of the flock,
how could he know that it was not to be eaten? Does he
know that his motions must be adapted to the habits of the
326 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
sheep? If unacquainted with these habits, then his conduct
seems to be without motive.
But it is principally in the chase that we must follow
this animal, to see the development of his intelligence. The
chase is natural to the dog, which is a carnivorous animal.
Thus man, in using it for this exercise, only modifies and
turns to account an aptitude and taste which nature has
bestowed upon the animal for its preservation. There are,
then, in the actions of the dog, the combined results of
education and nature; the former arising from strokes of
the whip, the latter from his disposition; one or both of
these two elements being more or less perceivable, according
to the circumstances which afford the animal more or less
activity. :
Nature is displayed more freely in the hound than in
other dogs. The habit of subjection makes him attentive
to the movements of those who lead him, up to a certain
point; but as he is not always under their hands, his
own intelligence must act for itself; and the animal’s
experience often rectifies the judgment of the huntsman.
The undivided attention the dogs give to the chase, the
guidance of the animal which is let loose first to train
them, and the chastisement they receive when they are on
a wrong track, accustom them by degrees to distinguish by
the scent the stag which is before them from all other
creatures. But the deer, wearied by the pursuit, seeks to
join his companions, and then a more exquisite discernment
on the part of the dog becomes necessary. In this case
nothing must be expected from the young ones. It belongs
only to trained experience to exercise a prompt and sure
judgment in this difficulty. Itis only the old dogs which are
undaunted, and pick out without hesitation the path their
THE DOG. 327
stag has taken through that of the other animals by which
he is accompanied. Those which are yet inexperienced
afford to the attentive huntsman a spectacle of uncertainty,
and yet of activity, which merits observation. They are
seen to waver and exhibit signs of hesitation. They place
their noses to the ground most diligently, or else raise them
to the branches, where the contact of the body of the
animal in its passage would leave a stronger smell, and
they are only at last determined by the voice of the
huntsman, in whom they repose the same confidence that
he himself has in the more experienced and practised dogs.
If the hounds, for a moment carried away by ardour, over-
step the track, and are about to lose it, the leaders of the
pack take upon themselves to find it, by the only means
men can employ. They go backwards and forwards, search-
ing for the trace which has escaped them. The diligence
of the huntsman could go no further, and in this case even
the experienced dog seems often to be at his wits’ end to
find the means leading to success.
The setter has still more intimate and close relations
with man. He hunts always under his eye, and nearly
-always under his hand. It is true happiness for this dog
to take the game to his master. He is caressed if he does
well, reproved and chastised if he does badly. His joy or
grief breaks forth in either case, and there is established
between man and dog an interchange of services, mutual
gratitude, and attachment.
When the setter is young, but already rendered docile |
by strokes of the whip, he listens to the voice of his
master only, and follows his orders with precision. But
when he is older and more experienced, and guided in
all he does by a sagacity more subtle and certain, he
328 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
does not always show the same docility, althougn in
general it may have become habitual with him. If, for
example, the game is wounded, and the old and ex-
perienced dog is sure of finding the track, he does not
allow himself to be turned from the pursuit by his master,
who calls and threatens in vain. He knows he is serving
him by his disobedience ; and the caresses which follow
success soon teach him that he ought in such cases to
disobey. It is generally the custom with experienced
sportsmen to lead the young dogs, and leave the old
ones to do as they please. Every one can gain for him-
self experience with regard to this animal, which we can
train at will, by the discipline of pleasure or pain ; which
attaches itself to man, and receives his lessons, but which,
in cases where he feels his own experience will guide him
more surely, opposes his will to that of his master, and
resists unhesitatingly the power of habit and fear of blows.
It is more than probable that we owe a great part
of the docility and subjection of the dog to a very long
course of training, continued through many generations ;
at least, it is quite certain that some acquired qualities of
animals are transmitted by birth. The habit of acting in
certain ways modifies without doubt the organisation itself,
and this, being perpetuated, becomes natural. ‘There are
few animals that cannot be tamed up to a certain point,
by alternations of pleasure and pain. Those which Nature
appears to have removed farthest from our influence—
which she has endowed with the surest instruments of
liberty, such as birds of prey, submit to the yoke which
want imposes on every being who feels it, and in a little
time acquire a docility which is astonishing. We see
them high in the air, obeying the call of the falconer,
THE DOG. 329
and allowing themseives to be guided by his movements,
repeated experience having taught them that docility
would surely conduct them to the prey. It is impossible
to attribute to instinct alone—that is to say, to a blind and
unreflecting impulse—those actions in animals in which
their instinct is in a manner unnatural. We can assign
no cause for some of their proceedings, unless by supposing
them to have the power of reflecting on facts. The educa-
tion of animals, without reflection, would be as incompre-
hensible as that of man without liberty. All education,
however simple it may be, necessarily supposes the power
of deliberating and choosing.
Adrian Leonard, author of a work on the education of
animals, has studied the intelligence of dogs in connection
with the formation of their skulls, and has divided them
into the following classes :—
In the frst class he places the dogs having large fore-
heads and projecting temples, showing a great development
of brain. Such are spaniels, water-spaniels, hounds, terriers,
and setters. All these dogs have drooping ears.
The second class comprises the mastiffs and harriers,
cifted with less intelligence, and sense of smell less de-
veloped. Their foreheads are narrow, temples receding,
noses long, and ears half pendant.
In the ¢/zrd class are the dogs with shortened noses, the
skull rising little, and intelligence but feebly developed.
Such are the different varieties of bull-dog and curs.
Leonard affirms, from his own experience, that the dogs
whose intelligence is most easily developed are the setters,
the eyes of which are most expressive, the movements
quick, without violence, and the gait firm, with graceful-
ness. This author says that he has been able, by a certain
330 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
method, to make the dogs do all that he wished, even when
commanding the most opposite things. He would say to
them, “ Lie down,” and then stopping them suddenly,
command them to come to him, saying, ‘‘Be merry,”
then, an instant after, “Be sorrowful ;” putting a piece of
bread before Brag, and saying, “This is for Dash;”
then a second piece before Dash, with “This is for
Brag ;” then leaving the two pieces for some time before
them, he would say, at length, “‘ Eat it,” and neither would
mistake the piece placed before him for that intended for
him. In these cases there was evidently an exercise of
intelligence. The animals must necessarily have compared
the different commands. For example, the dogs must have
reasoned thus: “The piece placed before me is not in-
tended for me, but that put before my companion. They
tell me to eat; I must not mistake, lest I get punished.”
Evidently the animal has thought all this, and reasoning
thus implies exercise of the intellectual faculties.
M. Emile de Tarade has become so thoroughly con-
vinced of the intellectual aptitude of the dog, that he has
just written a work on the means by which we can cultivate
the intelligence of this animal. According to this author, a
dog is not thoroughly instructed until he does everything
that is told him, even in the absence of his master. Other-
wise they are much in the same case as the dog Munito,
who, notwithstanding his apparent cleverness, really knew
nothing. “I followed his experiments,” said M. Tarade,
“until I discovered the solution of the enigma. Munito
was placed in a circle, formed of large cards, on which were
drawn letters or figures of various colours. Having a fine
sense of hearing, he was quick in detecting the slight noise
that his master (an Italian) made with his nail or toothpick,
THE DOG. 331
although the hand which gave the signal was concealed in
the pocket. And the so-called learned dog walked round
the circle, apparently reflecting, and stopped before the
card desired by his master.” Munito was frequently
rewarded by receiving some bread and meat. M. Tarade
calls this performance mere juggling. He protests against
this manner of developing intelligence, which is, in fact,
but the effect of obedience and subjection, and not a
discipline of the intellectual faculties. He indicates a
rapid and sure method of teaching a dog the use of words
in their application to common objects. A dog, sufficiently
exercised, ought to know letters, figures, colours, and
furniture. He ought to be clear on the meaning of the
prepositions—over, under, before, behind—and should be
able to contrast !
The choice of a dog clearly depends on the use we
desire to make of him. If you want a watch-dog, take a
mastiff; you will find in him strength, courage, great
attachment, and sufficient intelligence. A setter is best
adapted for hunting on land; the spaniel for water-fowl.
These two dogs are the most intelligent and most sus-
ceptible of education. The terrier, with its crooked legs,
and pace thus deprived of fleetness, afford the rabbit some
Opportunities of resting, and is excellent for hunting this
game. Coursing necessarily requires the employment of
the greyhound, but there is not much to be done with him
in the way of education, his intelligence being very limited.
The formation of the brain, the lengthened skull, and
receding form of the fore part of the head, may well be the
cause, physiologically, of this inaptitude in the greyhound
for a high course of education. ‘This dog can only be em-
ployed with success in the chase to hunt the hare, espe-
332 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
4 5
cially in level countries. These dogs have excellent sight,
but their scent is, comparatively, very bad; so that the
least thicket which hides the prey from sight makes them
lose it immediately.
To the advice given by M. Tarade respecting the Paice!
of a dog for education, we will add the following passage,
borrowed from Montaigne: “Sportsmen assure us that, in
order to make choice of a puppy from amongst a number
of others, it is better to leave the choice to the mother
herself. In carrying them back to their bed, the first she
takes up will always be the best. If we pretend to set
fire to the bed on_all sides, then the one she will try to
rescue first. By this we learn that the mothers have a faculty
of prognostication, which we do not possess, in respect to
their little ones.”
History abounds with facts attesting the intelligence
and devotion of dogs. One author, speaking of them,
says, “As to their friendship, it is much warmer and more
constant than that of man.” In confirmation of this
opinion, he relates the story of “ Hyrcanus,” the dog of
King Lysimachus. ‘His master having died, he persisted
in remaining on his bed, neither eating nor drinking. The
day having arrived for burning the body, the dog fol-
lowed the corpse, and throwing himself into the fire, was
burned. A dog belonging to one named Pyrrhus never
moved from its master’s bed when he lay dead, and allowed
itself to be carried away with the corpse, and finally jumped
into the funeral pile where the body of its master was
burned.”
Montaigne gives several other examples of the fidelity
of dogs, amongst others that of a dog which guarded a
temple at Athens. This animal having perceived a thief
THE DOG. 333
carrying off the finest of the jewels, barked loudly at him,
but without being able to wake the keepers. Despairing of
taking the thief, he followed him all night. At daybreak
he went more slowly, but without losing sight of the
robber, whose offered food was rejected. ‘The dog made
friends with the passers-by, and took food from their hands.
If the thief stopped to rest, the dog remained near him.
These facts having come to the ears of the temple-keepers,
they went in search of the dog, asking what road they had
taken. At length they found him and the thief at the town
of Cromyon, whence the robber was conducted to Athens,
where he was punished. The judges, as a reward to the
dog, ordered him to be supplied with a certain allowance of
food daily at the public expense, and recommended him to
the care of the priests !
In 1803 a society was founded for the suppression of
theft. A bloodhound was procured and trained to track
out criminals. In order to test the utility of this new
employment of the dog, a thief was let loose, about ten
o’clock in the morning, from a place where there was a
great concourse of people. An hour afterwards the dog
was sent in pursuit of the fugitive, At the end of the
chase, which lasted an hour and a half, the bloodhound
found the man, hidden ir. a tree, several miles from the
place.
It is evident that it is by the keenness and certainty of
his sight a dog is able to track a man or animal; but he
does not the less exercise reflection and intelligence when,
having discovered the object of his search, he begins to
bark, and will not leave him.
A domestic, cischarged from the service of a gentleman,
hid himself in the stables of his master during the night,
334 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
and in revenge cut off the ears and tail of a favourite
hunter. The dogs gave the alarm within an hour, and a
bloodhound being introduced into the stables, immediately
set out in pursuit. Having followed the track of the man
for more than twenty miles, the animal stopped at the door
of a house, whence it was impossible to entice him. Having
succeeded in getting in, he went up-stairs, and pushing
furiously against the door of the garret, he found the object
of his search. The servant being in bed, the dog seized
him immediately, and would have torn him to pieces, but,
fortunately, the master had not lost sight of the movements
of the animal, and hastened to the rescue.
After such remarkable facts, it is not astonishing that in
some counties they have endeavoured to make use of the
dog to aid the police in the towns and country by tracking
criminals.
It has been objected that it is dangerous to entrust the
dog with such functions, on account of the violence of his
character ; but the true English hound rarely bites those
whom he pursues. He only tracks them to their~hiding-
places, and then, by loud barkings, indicates the place
where they are hidden.
These facts prove most clearly that dogs might be
employed in the present day for the public protection of
towns and villages.
Dr. Franklin relates the following very singular story of
a dog, known by the name of “ Peeler :”—
THE POLICEMAN’S DOG,
A few years ago, a policeman was killed at Kingstown,
near Dublin, under very mysterious circumstances. A little,
THE DOG. 325
sharp, active dog, of the spaniel breed, would go in and
out of the chamber where the body was lying each day,
and seemed to take a personal interest in the inquest. The
conduct of the dog occasioned some surprise, and one of
the magistrates questioned the inspector to whom the dog
belonved--)-)*°@h-!? “replied the officer; “do you not
know? JI thought everybody knew Peeler, the police-
man’s dog.” He then told the history of the dog, which
is as follows :—Some years ago, poor little Peeler had |
tempted the appetite of an enormous dog of the Mount
St. Bernard or Newfoundland breed, the giant—I may say
the ogre—of his race. ‘The unhappy spaniel ran great risk
of being served up and devoured at the breakfast of his
Canine Majesty, Gargantua of the Snows, when a policeman
interfered, and, with a blow of his staff, laid low the strong
and released the weak. From that moment Peeler enter-
tained unlimited respect and gratitude towards policemen.
Where they went he went, or, rather, followed them. He
mounted guard with them, and relieved by his presence the
weariness of a long beat, or, better still, aided his friends
in arresting the disturbers of the public peace. Peeler
constituted himself chiefinspector of police. He went
from one station to another; and when he had visited
one district of a town, continued his rounds +o the other
quarters. He has been seen to enter a first-class carriage
on the Kingstown Railway, to go to Blackrock. There he
visited the police-station ; continued his tour of inspection;
waited the arrival of the train, and went everywhere to
observe the inhabitants. Having assured himself that all
was in good order, he returned, by another train in the
evening, to Kingstown. J
But Peeler had also his antipathies as well as his attach-
336 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
ments. There was one man especially for whom he
manifested extreme repugnance. One day, meeting him
in a railway carriage, he got out and waited for the follow-
ing train, preferring to submit to half an hour’s delay rather
than subject himself to such companionship.
His partiality for policemen was extraordinary. When-
ever he met a man in the uniform of a constable he
expressed his joy by leaping and walking beside him. He
even recognised and saluted them when dressed in plain
clothes, but, of course, these were his old acquaintances.
Thus sought after by this devoted animal, the guardians
of the peace in the city of London did not treat him with
less kindness and affection. Wherever Peeler appeared,
he received a crust of bread, a friendly tap on the head
or stroke on the back.
As Peeler loved policemen during their lives, he did not
forget them when they were dead. Finally, we find him
assisting at the funeral of Daly, the policeman who was
killed at Kingstown.
THE SHOEBLACK’S DOG.—OTHER EXAMPLES,
People when they go out in the streets like to appear
clean and neat, and especially are careful to have their
boots nicely polished. An Englishman was crossing one
of the bridges over the Seine, in Paris, when he was met by
a poodle-dog, which, rubbing its muddy paws over his dainty
boots, completely effaced their brilliant polish. Seeing a
shoeblack stationed on the bridge, he went to have the
outrage repaired. The same misadventure happening to
him the next day, and on several others in succession, the
curiosity of the Englishman was excited, and he observed
THE DOG. E64)
the dog attentively. He saw him go towards the Seine,
‘dip his paws in the mud by the side of the river, then go
on to the bridge to await the arrival of any well-dressed
person upon whose boots he might rub his paws. Dis-
covering that the dog belonged to the shoeblack, the gen-
tleman questioned the latter very closely. After some
The Shoeblack’s Doz.
moments of hesitation, the man owned that he had trained
his dog to this exercise in order to procure customers.
“Ah, Monsieur,” added he, “trade is so bad!” The gen-
tleman, struck with the sagacity of the dog, bought him,
and brought him to London. The new master having kept
the animal tied up for some time, at length allowed him
to run loose; the dog only stayed with him a day or two,
W
3 38 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
and then made his escape. A fortnight after he was found
with his first master, pursuing his old occupation on one
of the bridges of Paris !
Julian Scaliger and the “ History of Montargis” have
The Dog at the Convent Door.
handed down to us the
touching story of the dog
of Aubrey de Montdi-
dier. This story, the
events of which oc-
curred in the time of
Charles V., is so well
known, that we deem
it unnecessary to re-
peat it here.
“In 1660,” says Son-
nini, “all Paris might
have seen a dog which
remained for several
years near the tomb of
its master in the Ceme-
tery of the Innocents,
and from which nothing
could remove it. Se-
veral times they carried
it away to the extremity
of the city, and shut
the creature up; but as
soon as it was let loose it returned to the post of
its constant affection, notwithstanding the severity of the
winter. The inhabitants of the neighbourhood, touched
by its constancy and perseverance, used to carry it some
food ; but the poor animal seemed only to eat enough
THE DOG. ~ ee
to prolong his sufferings, and afford an example of heroic
fidelity.”
At the time of the Revolution, when many scenes of
blood were being witnessed at Brotteaux, a dog followed
his master who was condemned to be shot. After the
execution the dog laid himself upon the corpse, obstinately
refusing to be separated from it; and, rejecting all nourish-
ment, died some days after.
Everybody knows the story of the French dog which,
having seen beggars ring the bell at the door of the convent
and receive some soup, began to ring also, in order to
receive a ration.
We will give another proof of canine sagacity and
gratitude. A surgeon found a dog with its paw broken ;
he carried the animal home, reduced the fracture, and set
him at liberty. Some months after, he was not a little
astonished to see the animal he had succoured enter his
house, accompanied by another dog, which had also a
fractured paw !
THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.
Everybody has heard of the intelligence and devotion
of the Alpine spaniels, which, on the lofty mountains of
the Alps, go in search of travellers overtaken by the snow.
The monks of Mount St. Bernard, the hospitable
inhabitants of those icy and nearly inaccessible mountains,
do not fail to send every day, during the winter, a servant,
accompanied by two dogs, to meet the travellers from the
side of Vaiais, as far as St. Pierre. The dogs follow the
track of the traveller who has lost his way ; they find him,
bring him to the monastery, and rescue him from inevitable
death.
340 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
We will relate an anecdote of a Newfoundland dog,
borrowed from the Bulletin of the Society for the Protection
of Animals :—“ An individual, whom, from regard to his
honour, we forbear to name, had an old Newfoundland dog,
which, for economy’s sake, he wished to get rid of, to save
the dog tax. ‘This man, with a view of executing his cruel
design, led his old servant to the banks of the Seine, tied
his paws together with string, and rolled him off the barge
into the current. The dog, in struggling, contrived to break |
his bonds, and managed, with great difficulty, to climb the
steep bank of the river, where he arrived almost breathless.
Here his unworthy. master awaited him with a stick. He
repulsed the animal, and struck at him violently; but, in the
effort, lost his balance and fell into the river. He would
have been drowned most assuredly, had not his dog been
more humane than himself. But the animal, faithful to
the natural mission of his race, and forgetting in a moment
the treatment he had just received, jumped into the water,
from which he had only just escaped, to rescue his would-be
executioner from death. He did not accomplish this task
without much difficulty; and both returned home—the
one meekly rejoicing at having accomplished his good deed
and obtained favour, the other disarmed and, let us hope,
repentant.” 3
THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG AND THE MASTIFF.
We have yet another anecdote, proving the excellence
of disposition in the Newfoundland dog. A dog of this
race and a mastiff detested each other. Every day pro-
duced fresh battles between them. But it happened that,
in one of these terrible and prolonged combats on the jetty
THE DOG. 341
of Donaghadee, they both fell into the sea. The jetty was
long and steep; they had no other means of escape but
that of swimming, and the distance was considerable. The
Newfoundland, being a good swimmer, managed to reach
the shore without much difficulty. He landed dripping
wet, and began shaking himself. A moment after, he saw
that his late antagonist was exhausting himself in struggling
against the waves, and was just on the point of sinking.
_ The Newfoundland was moved with a feeling of generosity :
he flung himself again into the water, seized the mastiff by
the collar, and holding his head above the water, brought
him safe and sound to land. This happy deliverance was
followed by a scene between these two animals that was
truly touching. They never fought again, and were always
seen together. ‘The Newfoundland, being at last crushed
beneath a wagon loaded with stones, the other dog was
for a long time inconsolable.
VAILLANT.
In his work on the education of the dog, M. de Tarade
relates an incident recently told by M. Léonce Guine. Two
children, of the ages of twelve and fifteen—the age with
little pity—came to a part of the Seine, level with the Rue
de la Grande-Arche, to drown a poor and blind dog, half
dead with hunger and old age. He had become useless -
as a servant, and they were about to dismiss him in the
usual manner—they would drown him, to spare him the
sufferings of desertion and hunger! What could be more
reasonable? Is it not thus that domestic animals are
generally treated when they become good for nothing? It
was with malicious pleasure and cruel joy that these
342 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
children had thrown the poor animal into the midst of the
waves. Not content with this, the little murderers pelted
their victim with a shower of stones. His piteous howlings
and cries of despair, far from moving their compassion,
only excited ‘their cruel mirth. , By low moaning at inter-
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Vaillant rescuing the Blind Dog.
vals, they learned, to their great satisfaction, that the poor
dog was wounded by their missiles. “I was about to close
my window,” says M. Guine, “so as to shut out this painful
sight—amusing, no doubt, to the idle and worthless, though
much opposed to the usually humane character of the
THE DOG. 343
Parisians —when suddenly I heard loud shouts and great
clapping of hands from the mob who were diverting them-
selves with this brutal spectacle. I looked, and perceived
with some surprise my dog Vaillant, who, attracted by
the mournful cries of one of his own species, had jumped
into the river, and was swimming towards him. He went
through the water with incredible activity. His joyful cries,
and the direction he was taking, at once convinced me of
the animal’s intentions—Vaillant was hastening to the
rescue ! X
“The poor blind dog, guessing that unexpected help
was at hand, seemed to renew his efforts for life. A few
more struggles brought him to Vaillant. The latter, well
knowing the danger of the task he had undertaken, raised
his hind-quarters in such a manner that the poor drowning
beast could cling securely with his front paws, without inter-
fering too much with his own movements. He then began
to swim vigorously towards the shore. His efforts were
crowned with success. In a few minutes he was on ¢erra
Jirma, proudly shaking his fine coat, while his companion
fell exhausted at his side. My dog’s devotion, however, did
not stop there. The children, who had not reckoned upon
this unexpected rescue, and who still wished to indulge
themselves with the spectacle of a drowning dog, tried to
drive him away with a stick, but, in approaching him, they
were so terrified by the sight of his flashing eyes and the
two rows of formidable white teeth which he displayed in his
fury, that they were forced to renounce their intention, and
retrace their steps. This action on the part of Vaillant
did not surprise me much, because he is an affectionate
animal, as well as very intelligent ; but the spectators, who
did not know him so well as I, loaded him with so many
344 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
caresses, that I feared he would adopt the same means to
get rid of their importunities that he had taken to drive
away the two boys. I therefore put an end to the general
enthusiasm, and preserved the calves of the most eager
from the marks of his teeth, by calling Vaillant to me.
For the first time, I may say, the docile animal refused to
obey my call. I soon comprehended his motive: he was
not willing to leave his protégé to the mercy of his enemies.
At my request, one of the mob took the poor blind dog on
his shoulder, it being still too weak to drag itself along, and
carried it to my dog’s bed. It was only on this condition
that the latter could be induced to steal away from the
ovation of the crowd, in order to pay to his guest the
honours of the kennel.”
BRILLANT.
Another hero of the canine race has for some time, so
L’Indépendance Belge relates, ceased to fulfil any of the
functions usually assigned to dogs by their masters. _ Bril-
lant has risen in rank; he has cleared, at one bound, the
distance between the kennel and the office; from being
simply the guardian of the night, he has become messenger,
factotum, confidential servant. With a little anthmetic and
literature, he might become an accountant, perhaps secre-
tary. Every morning Master Brillant, with head raised,
and his basket suspended jauntily between his teeth, makes
his first visit to the baker, who, on account of his good
conduct and discretion, does not hesitate to give him his
master’s bread. Various other errands wait his return ; and
the zealous ‘“‘commissionaire,” always provided with his
basket, goes successively, and simply by a verbal indication,
to the grocer, the fruiterer, and the public-house, whence he
THE DOG. 345
brings a bottle filled which he had taken empty. A little
later in the day he is the courier of his master; and it is
most amusing and interesting to see him, with one or two
letters in his mouth, standing on his hind legs, just below
the letter-box of the General Post-office, one of his paws
supporting him against the wall, the other pulling the dress
of a passer-by or the postman to attract their attention, and
then, by gestures, begging them to put the letters into the
box, the opening of which he is not able to reach. And all
these feats of memory, discernment, and reasoning, so to
speak, are accomplished by this intelligent animal with
perfect order and punctuality, without being led or directed,
except by signs, and without making any mistake in the
different commissions with which he is entrusted.
MOFFINO.
Everybody at Milan knows the history, for it is not
_ symply a story, of the spaniel Moffino. This dog followed
his master, who belonged to the corps of Prince Eugéne
Beauharnais, on the occasion of the disastrous expedition
~ into Russia in 1812. At the passage of the Beresina these
two faithful companions were separated by the masses of
ice which floated down the river, and the Milanese corporal
returned to his native city full of sorrow and regret, not on
account of his wounds, but for the loss of his poor dog,
which had shared with him so much misery and suffering.
A year passed by, and the soldier, in the midst of his
family, had almost forgotten the object of his regret. One
day, however, the people of the house were surprised by
the arrival of the spectre of an animal that might formerly
have been a dog, but which now scarcely deserved the
+
346 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
name. It was something truly hideous that they tried to
drive away without pity, notwithstanding the mournful cries
of the poor beast. At this moment the ex-corporal returned
from a walk, and saw advancing towards him, with joyful
bounds, this wretched quadruped, which licked his feet,
uttering at the same time low whinings. He repulsed it
ih
ae ih
Moffino’s return from Ruse
roughly, and was about to deprive this singular visitor of
the little life that appeared to be remaining, when a sudden
thought occurring to him, he examined certain marks on it
with attention, indications of which caused him much joy.
He pronounced the name “ Moffino,” and the animal jumped
up immediately, barking joyfully, and then fell down, ex-
hausted with hunger, fatigue—perhaps, one might say, with
THE DOG. 347
emotion. His master, who now recognised his lost dog,
hastened to his assistance, succoured him tenderly, and
saved him from death.
This journey over more than the half of Europe, under-
taken by an animal without any guide but his wonderful
instinct, the mountains and rivers crossed by this feeble
creature in search of his master, at the price of terrible
sufferings, is a great lesson for the generality of mankind.
THE FISHING-DOG, OR THE SPANIEL OF THE “ CORDELIERS
D’ETAMPES.”
We find, in the “ History d’Etampes,” the feats and
doings, not of a learned dog hike Munito, of whom we have
already spoken—one applauded for useless talents—but of
a spaniel as useful as clever, and which, during several
years, was the purveyor of the “ Péres Cordeliers.”* His
dexterity in fishing for crabs deserves to be recorded. It
has been the subject of a Latin poem, composed, in 1714,
by Claude Charles Hémard de Danjouan, a young inhabitant:
of d’Etampes. Many a capital dinner did the fishing-dog
provide for the friars, to whom he brought, not only crabs,
but various fish, captured with no small trouble, and great
dexterity.
THE DOGS OF BOISVILLE-LA-ST, PERE,
We shall end these remarks on the dog by the story of
two sporting-dogs, which may claim a place in our work.
This narrative was told by M. Baumer, a locksmith of
* A branch of the Grey Friars, so called from their girdle made of
cords.
348 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
Angerville. One fine morning, the butcher of Boisville-la-
St. Pere, wishing to have a feast, said to his wife, “I am
going to kill a rabbit.” He set out, according to his usual
custom, with his two dogs—male and female. These
animals were almost mad with joy; they jumped, frisked,
barked, ran forward, and then back again to their master.
The Fishing-dog.
Threats and kicks could not subdue their ardour, nor quiet
their tumult. The sportsman went towards a wood situated
near the village. Having arrived there, the poor butcher,
for some reason not explained, mounted a tree, and, in
order to climb more easily, took his gun-strap between his
teeth. He had scarcely reached the lower branches, when,
one of them touching the trigger, the gun went off, and the
THE DOG. 349
imprudent hunter, receiving all the contents, fell bathed in
blood. His poor dogs then began to howl most piteously.
Only a few distant woodmen heard their cries ; night was
coming on—what could they do? Go away—abandon
their master? A servant might have done so; a dog,
never! The two faithful creatures remained all night,
without thinking one instant of eating or drinking. The
morming found them still there, barking every now and
then as if calling for help. As no one came, one of them
returned to the village, while the other stayed by their
master. He arrived at the house, and reassured every one
by his presence. ‘‘ When the dog arrives,” said they, “the
master is not far behind.” They gave the poor animal
some food, but, notwithstanding his long fast, he ate but
little, looked at everybody wistfully, and then disappeared.
They went out to’ see which direction it had taken.
Just tnen the other dog arrived ; they caressed her, and
gave her also something to eat. As soon as she had
finished she went to one of the workmen in the house,
looked at him wistfully, and pulling him by his blouse,
seemed to say, ‘Follow me.” Accordingly, they set out
with her, which seemed to give her much satisfaction. She
advanced eagerly, stopping from time to time to see if they
were still following. As she approached the wood she
‘slackened her pace, frequently looked behind her, and at
last, on arriving, the poor animal walked gently and silently
up to its master. The other dog was lying upon him,
awaiting anxiously the return of its companion. Both
began to lick their master’s face, trying to awake him, and
warn him that some one was near. The officers of justice
being informed of the sad accident, went to the place in-
dicated, recorded the death, and took away the corpse in a
359 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
carriage, the dogs following. Arrived at the house, they
would not leave the body, but remained lying near it,
howling mournfully. With much- trouble, the people
dragged them away into a barn ; but, far from being quiet,
they uttered cries which were heart-rending. The unfor-
tunate man being interred, the dogs were set at liberty.
The cemetery of Boisville, like those of most villages, was
not difficult of access. Our two poor dogs, by scent, soon
discovered the grave of their master. They scratched a
long time, and at last succeeded in finding the coffin, on
which they were found lying the next morming. The
villagers dragged them back to the barn, petted, caressed,
gave them food, and used every means to console them ;
but nothing succeeded. They began howling again, refused
all nourishment, and, three days afterwards, died of grief.
What can exceed this touching proof of genuine affection
and attachment?
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THE DOGS AND THEIR DEAD MASTER.
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QUADRUMANA.*
MONKEYS, ORANG-OUTANGS, CHIMPANZEES
THE Quadrumana, the feet of which are really formed like
hands, are the creatures most closely resembling man.
These animals, which Linnzus calls ‘“ primates,” to show
their superiority over all others, are distinguished by the
following characteristic resemblance to man :—Their teats
are generally on the breast, and two in number; the four
thumbs are generally opposable to the other fingers, the
thumbs of the hind feet being always so; the brain, which
is almost always provided with circumvolutions, has, like
that of man, the olfactory lobes smaller than those of other
animals.
The Quadrumana consist of three principal families, the
monkeys, the lemurs, and the apes.
The monkeys, so various in species, so remarkable for
the vivacity of their manners, and for the resemblance they
bear to the human race, are spread over the Old Continent
as well as the New, but their characteristics differ in each
of these great portions of the globe.
Bearing a greater resemblance to man than those of
America, the monkeys of the old world have thirty-two
teeth, disposed in the same order as in the human jaw.
* A word signifying four-handed.
354 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
They have the partition which separates the narrow nos-
trils. The tail is not always endued with the power of
grasping, being sometimes short, or even not visible at all.
In this case they have, under the skin, a rudimentary bone,
such as exists also in man.*
The apes that approach nearest to man are the orang-
outang of Borneo, the chimpanzee, the gorilla and kooloo-
kamba of Western Africa, and the long-armed ape of the
Indian continent and adjacent isles.
* This bone is called the os coccygis.
THE ORANG-OUTANG.
THE ORANG-OUTANG AS A DOMESTIC.—EATING AT TABLE.—
COUNTERFEITING AN OLD MAN, A PREACHER.—UNFASTEN-
ING HIS CHAIN, AND CARRYING IT ON HIS SHOULDERS.
THE orang-outang has a less facial angle* than the chim-
panzee. This is the reason why most naturalists consider
it as less intelligent than the latter. The orang-outang is
commonly called ‘the wild man of the woods.” It is of a
reddish colour, more or less dark, and sometimes becomes
very dark with age; its hair is long, but not thick; the
lower and fore parts of the body are almost bare, as well
as the ears and the face, which is black; the head is
covered with rather long hair. These creatures inhabit
the Isles of Borneo, Sumatra, the Malay peninsula, and
live in the depths of the forests. ‘The orang-outang had
been. considered for some time as quite distinct from the ~
pongo, but is now known to be the same animal, at two
different periods of its life. The pongo is an adult of the
orang species, of which young ones only have hitherto been
brought to Europe.t
In its wild state the orang-outang is alert, endowed with
great strength, constantly clinging to the trees, in the midst
* The slope of a line drawn from the chin to the forehead is called
the facial angle.
t+ It must not be forgotten that the name pongo has also been
given both to the gorilla and the chimpanzee.
356 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
of which it runs and leaps with extreme agility. On the
ground the orang-outangs are grave and quiet, and have not
that capricious or brutal petulance which characterises some
quadrumana. The young have always shown much intelli-
gence, gentleness of disposition, and remarkable sociability.
They grow weary of solitude, but, nevertheless, do not like
too many visitors.
“These animals,” says Frédéric Cuvier, ‘‘ acquire without
difficulty all the actions to which their organisation is not
opposed. This results from their confidence, docility, and
their great facility 0: comprehension. After the first attempt
they understand what is required of them; that is to say,
having performed the action shown them, they know they
must repeat it themselves in the same manner. Thus they
drink from a glass, eat with a fork or spoon, make use of a
dinner-napkin, wait at table behind their master’s chair like
a servant, and, it is said, can assist him to wine.”
Frédéric Cuvier gives the account oi an orang-outang
which, in order to make its escape from a cage, mounted
a chair and unfastened the door. He concludes, with
reason, that these actions are the result of a superior
intelligence and combination of ideas.
Buffon tells us that he has seen this animal give its hand
to the people who visited it, to show them out, walking
gravely with them as one of themselves. “I have seen
it,” he adds, “sit down to table, unfold its dinner-napkin
to wipe its mouth, make use of a spoon and fork in feeding
itself, pour out its drink, jingle glasses when invited to do
so, take a cup and saucer, bring them to table, putting in
sugar, then pouring out the tea, leave it to get cold before
drinking; and all this without any other direction than a sign
or word from its master, and often entirely of its own accord.”
THE ORANG-OUTANG. 357
It never hurts any one, always approaches them
cautiously, and presents itself as if asking to be caressed.
The orang-outang seen by M. Flourens in the Zoological
Gardens did all these things. It was very gentle, extremely
fond of being caressed, particularly by children, played with
them, and tried to imitate all their actions. He knew
perfectly well where to find the key belonging to the room
in which he was lodged, how to put it into the lock and open
the door. Sometimes they put the key on the chimney-
piece. The orang-outang climbed to it, by means of a
rope attached to the board, which served him for a swing.
They tied a knot in the cord to make it shorter, which
knot he managed to undo. He had no> the impatience
or petulance of the monkeys. His appzarance was sor-
rowful, and his movements grave and measured. ‘“ One
day,” says M. Flourens, “I paid him a visit, accompanied
by an illustrious old gentleman, who was a clever, shrewd
observer. His somewhat peculiar costume, bent body, and
slow, feeble walk at once attracted the attention of the
young animal, who, while doing most complacently all
that was required of him, kept his eyes fixed on the
object of his curiosity. We were about leaving, when he
approached his new visitor, and, with mingled gentleness
and mischief, took the stick which he carried, and pretend-
ing to lean upon it, rounding his shoulders, and slackening
his pace, walked round the room, imitating the figure and
gait of my old friend. He then gave him back the stick of
his own accord, and we took our leave, convinced that he
also knew how to observe.”
The orang-outang has been sometimes tamed in eastern
countries, where the temperature suits its nature and habits.
M. Coubasson had brought up a young ape of this family.
358 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
The animal was so attached to the missionary, that wherever
he went it seemed desirous of following him. Every time
the “father” had some religious service to perform, he
was obliged to shut up the orang-outang inaroom. One
day, however, the animal made his escape, and followed his
master into the church. There he quietly mounted to the top
of the organ above the pulpit, where he remained until the
sermon commenced. Then he slipped down slily to the
front, and looking steadfastly at the preacher, began imitating
his gestures in so droll a manner, that all the congrega-
tion were seized with an irresistible desire to laugh. The
father, surprised and confounded at this levity, severely
reprimanded his inattentive audience. The rebuke was
ineffectual. The congregation still appearing diverted, the
preacher, in the warmth of his zeal, redoubled his efforts
to engage their attention. The monkey imitated so cleverly
the vehemence of this oratorical action, that the congrega-
tion could no longer restrain their mirth, but burst out into
continual peals of laughter. The father, now thoroughly
vexed and angry, threatened his hearers with the wrath
of heaven. At length a friend indicated with his finger
the cause of this unseemly mirth, and the preacher began
to laugh himself. ‘The attendants then with some difficulty
removed the ape which had thus abused his powers of
Imitation.
Dr. Abel has written a curious account of the manners
and habits of the orang-outang. We will quote only that
part which relates to the intelligence of this animal. ‘The
orang-outang,” says he, “since his arrival at Java, has en-
joyed full and perfect liberty, which he does not abuse, and
makes no attempt whatever to escape. A day or two only
before his departure for England, in the Cesar, they judged
THE ORANG-OUTANG. 359
it prudent to put him in acage, secured with bars of bamboo.
This imprisonment made him furious. When he was placed
in captivity he took hold of the bars, and shaking them
violently, tried to break them in pieces; but finding that
the firmness of the fence would not yield to his efforts,
he reflected that it would be better to try another way—
by attacking each bar separately. Having discovered that
one bar was not so strong as the others, he worked at it
without ceasing until he had broken it, and then made his
escape. On board the vessel they tried to confine him by
means of a chain attached to a strong pole, but he managed
to release himself, and ran off, dragging the chain after
him. Finding that the length of this chain incommoded
him, he rolled it up and threw it over his shoulder. He
often repeated this manceuvre, and when he found that
the chain would not lie as he wished, he took it in his
mouth. In the means he adopted to procure his food,
he gave us still more reason to appreciate his talents and
sagacity. He seemed very desirous of obtaining the tit-bits,
kept out of his reach, showed great anger when they were
withheld from him, and would pursue any one all round the
vessel to obtain something nice. I rarely came on deck
without some sweetmeats or fruit in my pocket, and in
such case never escaped his vigilant eye. I sometimes
tried to escape from him by mounting to the top of the
mast, but was always anticipated in my flight. When
climbing the shrouds with me, he always made sure of
his position by placing one of his hands on my legs.
During this time the rogue would try to pick my pockets.
If he found it impossible to surprise me in this way, he
would climb to a considerable height on the ropes, and
then jump suddenly upon me; but if, guessing his inten-
360 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
tion, I tried to descend, he would slide down the rope
and meet me at the bottom of the shrouds. Sometimes
I tied an orange to the end of a string, and let it down
from the top of the mast on to the deck. Each time he
attempted to seize it I drew it slowly towards me. Having
been several times foiled in his attempts, he changed his
tactics. Pretending not to care about having the orange,
he retired to some distance, and, with well-feigned indiffer-
ence, began to mount the ngging; then, by means of a
sudden leap, he seized the string which held the fruit.
If it happened that he was again disappointed in his
design by the quickness of my movements, he gave him-
self up to despair, abandoned the attempt, and climbed
into the rigging, uttering piercing cries. He was seen
more than once at the door of his keeper’s cabin sipping
his coffee, nowise embarrassed by the presence of observers,
and affecting a serio-comic air, which seemed like a carica-
ture of human nature.
“The monkeys which we had brought from Java gained
but little of his attention when he was observed by persons
on board; but I had reason to suspect that he was not so
indifferent to their society as he wished one to believe. I
saw him one day on the mizenmast, playing stealthily with
one of these young monkeys. Lying on his back, partly
concealed by the sail, he regarded with much gravity the
gambols of the little creature which frolicked around him.
At last he caught it by the tail, and began wrapping it up in
his covering. ‘This mode of subjection was not in accord-
ance with the taste of our mischievous little fellow, who
made his escape, and recommenced his gambols. Although
caught several times, it always managed to get away. ‘The
intercourse between orang-outang and monkey is not always
THE ORANG-OUTANG. 361
that of equality ; for the former never condescended to play
with this little creature as he did with the cabin-boys of the
vessel. Several times these monkeys were seen in ambus-
cade, or creeping furtively round him, without his responding
to their advances. Such are the facts,” adds Dr. Abel,
“of which we were witnesses during an intercourse of several
months with this animal. I have written from my own ob-
servation during the voyage from Java to England. Since
the ape’s arrival in Great Britain he has acquired, to my
knowledge, two accomplishments which he had not learned ~
on board ship, where, I must own, his education was much
neglected. One is to walk upright, at least, on his hind feet,
without supporting himself with his hands ; the second is to
kiss his keeper.” Some writers affirm that the orang-outang
gives real kisses, and they suppose that it is a natural action
of the animal. This seems to bea mistake ; it is an acquired
act. Certain naturalists have denied the superiority of in-
telligence in the orang-outang over that of the domestic dog.
They draw certain inferences from the anatomy of the ape,
saying, for example, that the cerebral mass of the brain of
the orang-outang is not in accordance with the actions of
the animal. Dr. Franklin remarks, with reason, that the
orang-outang is a wild animal, or nearly so, taken suddenly
from his native climate, habits, forest life, and natural
element. In a state of captivity its faculties, far from
acquiring a high degree of development, must often become
feeble. But the orang-outang, without being instructed by
man, does accomplish acts of which the most sagacious
and best instructed of our dogs is incapable. If the dog is
chained up, and the chain becomes entangled, the animal
pulls it forcibly towards him, and often increases the evil,
instead of removing it. If the obstacle continues, he
362 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
becomes frightened, and cries out, but never thinks of
searching into the cause of the mischance. It is not so
with the orang-outang; the moment a similar accident
happens to him, he tries to find out the real state of things.
You will not see him pulling against a powerful obstacle
with blind force; he stops at once, as a man would do
in similar circumstances. He turns round to examine the
cause of the occurrence. If the chain be entangled by a
heap or weight of any kind, he disengages it. In every
case he seeks the why and wherefore. Is not this seeking
for causes a manifest sign of intelligence? Another proof of
the sagacity of these apes is the facility with which they
recognise the pictures of insects or birds placed before them.
It is true they mistake them for the reality, and try to take
hold of them, and crush them, or else flee away if they
have any cause to fear the animals depicted. In the same
manner, when they see themselves in a looking-glass, they
make signs, then go behind to look for the animal which is
making grimaces in return for their own. Savages would
not act more consistently. These intellectual manifestations
are only seen in the species occupying the first rank in the
order ; the\inferior kinds are more stupid, perhaps, than the
least intelligent of the carnivora.
The Courrier a’ Orient relates a tact which proves at once
the degree of intelligent development to which some monkeys
can attain. Three or four children, aged about seven or eight,
were amusing themselves on the Place Sultan Mehemmed
looking at monkeys dancing to the sound of the tambour,
and they especially admired one of these animals, which
played this instrument very cleverly, at the same time
acting as guide to a poor blind man, his master, whom he
conducted with an address and foresight equal to any man.
THE ORANG-OUTANG. 363
This interesting animal made, from time to time, the
round for begging money, presenting with one hand the
blind man to the spectators, with the other the tambour to
receive the alms. Pieces of money and fruits were freely
bestowed, and the monkey hastened to put all into the
wallet of his master.
The children had been the first to put their offerings
into the tambour, and in each case they were small pieces
of money, destined, no doubt, for the purchase of sweet-
meats, but, being well-disposed children, they preferred
giving their money in charity. Suddenly the youngest of
the children uttered a cry, at the same time putting his hand
to his head. A thief had.snatched at his cap, ornamented
with pearls and set round with gold. Not being able to
snatch it off, thanks to the strap which fastened it under the
chin, he contented himself with tearing off one of the gold
ornaments. ‘The thief was immediately arrested. Can you
guess by whom? By the monkey, who recognised him in
the crowd, and pointed him out by fastening on to his
clothes with his teeth and claws. Everybody hastened to
his assistance, but he never left his hold until the arrival
of an officer, who carried off the criminal to the station.
The monkey, quite proud of his exploit, hastened to kiss
the hand of the child he had so courageously protected ;
then, having received this favour as his only recompense,
he continued his performances |!
THE CHIMPANZEE.
Most naturalists agree that of all known apes the chim-
panzee approaches nearest to man, not only by the volume
of the brain, but in the whole of its organisation. The
formation of the head,* the intellectual superiority which
distinguishes the features, the length of the arms—in better
proportion to the size of the body than those of other
apes—the size and perfect formation of the thumb, the
roundness of the thighs, the almost human form of the feet,
and consequently the nearly upright mode of walking, and
the nature of the sounds which the animal is capable of
making, all place the chimpanzee above the other Quadru-
mana, and bring it near to man.
Linnzeus, in the first edition of his “ System of Nature,”
speaks of a “genus homo,” under the denomination of
“homo silvestris” or troglodyte.t Since then, a distinct
genus has been found—the genus troglodyte of zoologists
—and the species the best known bears the name of
troglodyte niger, or black chimpanzee. This animal has
the forehead rounded, but concealed by the arched eye-
brows, the size of which is extreme. The face is brown
and bare, with the exception of the cheeks, on which are
* The cranium of the kooloo-kamba, as figured by Du Chaullu, is
superior in form to that of the chimpanzee.
+ A Greek word, denoting a dweller in caves.
THE CHIMPANZEE. B05
some hairs like whiskers. ‘The eyes are small, but full of
expression ; the nose flat, and the mouth large.
The chimpanzee attains to the height of five or six feet,
and, when supported by leaning on a stick, can walk up-
right for several minutes. The hair is thicker on the back,
shoulders, and legs than on other parts of the body, and is
generally black.
The chimpanzee is a native of Africa, sana 1s only to be
found in the forests of Congo and Guinea.—~ When young,
it is remarkable for
gentleness and the
ease with which it is
tamed ; but loses, as
it grows older, most
of these good quali-
ties, which are suc-
ceeded by very fe-
rocious instincts. It
does not then hesi-
tate to attack man ;
and, armed with a
stick, it strikes with
violence. But the young chimpanzees are capable of being
instructed in various ways. They learn to sit at table like
civilised man; partake of everything, particularly sweet-
meats ; and can even become habituated to strong spirits.
They can use a knife, fork, and spoon in eating; will
receive their visitors with much politeness, stay to bear
them company, and show them out !
The chimpanzee is a native of the tropical parts of
Africa ; while the orang-outang is found in Asia. Its life
in a wild state is little known, except from the accounts
Chimpanzee at Table.
366 . THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
given by the natives of the country. It is, they say, a
formidable adversary for the elephant, as well as the car-
nivorous animals, which it assails by blows from sticks or
stones.
One of the signs of superiority in man is the power of
making use of extraneous aid, and adding this to his own
strength. In this respect the chimpanzee holds a kind of
intermediate position between man and the other animals.
‘Its tactics, however limited they may be, show gleams of
reason ; they are, in fact, the rudiments of human strategy,
the first step towards dominion.
From certain comparative studies of the chimpanzee
and orang-outang, it is generally acknowledged that the
former has superior sociable habits, and a better recollec-
tion of the persons usually about him. He sits perfectly
upright at table, and takes up food with the greatest ease
between his thumb and forefinger. The chimpanzee loves
bright colours, and is especially attentive to a female wear-
ing a gay dress! He delights to look out of windows ; the
carriages and horses passing by seem to astonish him, and
afford him much pleasure. The chimpanzee is more gentle
in appearance, more graceful in form, and more civilised in
manners than the orang-outang ; and there exists the same
difference in the faculties of these two animals as in their
exterior characteristics.
Captain Payne has thus described the habits of a chim-
panzee which had been obtained by a merchantman on the
coast of the river Gambia, and which he was commissioned
to bring to London in 1831. ‘“ When the animal came on
board,” says he, “‘he gave several fingers of his hand to
some of the sailors, but refused this mark of confidence,
even angrily, to others, without any apparent reason. He
THE CHIMPANZEE. 367
soon, however, became familiar with all the crew, with the
exception of one young cabin-boy, with whom he would
never make friends. When the sailors were taking their
meals on deck he was always at hand, making the round of
the table, embracing each guest, uttering cries, and then
seating himself amongst them to partake of the food. He
sometimes expressed anger by a kind of bark, resembling
that of a dog; at other times he would cry like a peevish
child, and scratch himself violently. When they gave him
something nice, especially sweetmeats, he expressed his
satisfaction by a sound resembling “ Hem!” uttered in a
grave tone. Beyond these, the variety of sounds in his
language did not appear very extensive. In hot latitudes
he was lively and active; but languor took possession of
him when we quitted the torrid zone. In approaching our
shores, he manifested a desire to wrap himself up in warm
coverings. He generally walked on all-fours ; never, however,
placing the palms of his fore-feet on the ground, but, closing
his hands, supported himself on the joints of his fingers.
He rarely used the upright posture, although he could run
quickly, for a short distance, on his hind feet. He learned
easily to eat with a spoon and drink from a glass. When
in our society he showed a great inclination to imitate the
actions of men. The lustre of metals and shining bodies
attracted him. He was not insensible to coquetry, and
exhibited a kind of vanity in clothing himself with the
garments of human beings. He was seen several times
walking proudly on deck with a cocked hat on his head.”
The Museum of Natural History at Paris, thirty years
ago, possessed a chimpanzee which showed much intelli-
gence. One day, when it had been put in confinement for
some fault, it experienced a desire common to all living
Y
368 THE INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS,
beings when shut up, that is to say, a wish to recover
liberty ; only it showed in this enterprise a perception of
consequences, and a method of surmounting difficulties,
which were very remarkable. It first of all fixed its eyes
on the door of the room in which it was imprisoned; but
this door was locked, and the key hung on a nail. The
ape was not discouraged by this obstacle. Raising himself
on the points of his toes, he tried to possess himself of the
key, but the nail hung too high for him to reach it. After
several useless attempts, in which the animal showed as
much perseverance as sagacity, it comprehended that the
key was placed at’such a distance that it would never be
able to reach it even with the tips of his fingers. It then
placed a chair against the wall, mounted, and unhooked the
key. That done, it got down, inserted it very cleverly
into the lock, and unfastened the door.
** Who, after this, will dare gainsay
That beasts have sense as well as they?
For me—could I the ruler be—
They should have just as much as we,
In youth, at least. In early years,
Who thinks, reflects, or ever fears ?
Or if we do—unmeaning elves—
’Tis scarcely known e’en to ourselves.
Thus, by examples clear and plain,
We for these poor creatures claim
Sense to think, reflect, and plan,
And in their actions rival man :
Their guide—not instinct blind alone,
% But reason, somewhat like our own !”
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Iustrated Library of Wonders. 3
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Illustrated Library of Wonders. 5
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ce Fe
Fi
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) A | i i T i ii i
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Illustrated with 22 woodcuts. One volume, 12mo., $1 50.
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For description of book, see page 5.
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Llustrated Library of Wonders.
BeEYPT 3,300 YEARS AGO.
By.) DIE LAN OYE.
With 40 illustrations. One vo'ume, r2mo, $1 50.
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The Sphinx of Rameses II. (according to the Sphinx at the Louvre)
For description of book, see page 4.
14 Illustrated Library of Wonders.
POMPEII AND THE POMPEIANS.
By MARC MONNIER. =
With 30 Illustrations. One volume, 12mo. $1 50.
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Illustrated Library of Wonders. Is
ACOUSTICS:
OR, THE WONDERS OF SOUND.
With roo illustrations. One vol. r2mo. Price, $1 50.
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16 Illustrated Library of Wonders, T . Sey,
THE SUBLIME? IN: RA ee.
From Descriptions of Celebrated Writers and Travellers.
Illustrated with 38 full-page engravings. Onevol. r2mo. Price, $1 50.
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A GORGE IN THE PYRENEES,
For description of book, see page 5.
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