MAMMALS.
I SHALL devote this chapter to the psychology of all the Mammalia which
present any features of psychological interest, with the exception of
the rodents, the elephant, the dog and cat tribe among Carnivora, and
the Primates--all of which I shall reserve for separate treatment.
_Marsupials._
In the 'Transactions of the Linnean Society,' Major Mitchell gives an
interesting account of the structure reared by a small Australian
marsupial (_Conilurus constructor_) for the purposes of defence against
the dingo dog. It consists of a large pile of dry sticks and brushwood,
'big enough to make two or three good cart-loads.' Each stick and
fragment is closely intertwined or woven with the rest, so that the
whole forms a solid, compact mass. In the middle of this large structure
is the nest of the animal.
The marsupials are as low in the scale of mammalian intelligence as they
are in that of mammalian structure: so that, except the above, I have
met with no fact connected with the psychology of this group that is
worth quoting, except, perhaps, the following, which appears to show
deliberation and decision on the part of the kangaroo. Jesse writes:--
A gentleman who had resided for several years in New
South Wales related the following circumstance, which
he assured me he had frequently witnessed while
hunting the kangaroo: it furnishes a strong proof of
the affection of that animal for her young, even when
her own life has been placed in the most imminent
danger. He informed me that, when a female kangaroo
has been hard pressed by dogs, he has seen her, while
she has been making her bounds, put her fore-paws into
her pouch, take a young one from it, and then throw it
as far on one side as she possibly could out of the
way of the dogs. But for this manoeuvre her own life
and that of her young one would have been sacrificed.
By getting rid of the latter she has frequently
effected her escape, and probably returned afterwards
to seek for her offspring.
_Cetaceans._
The following is quoted from Thompson:--
In 1811, says Mr. Scoresby, one of my harpooners
struck a sucker, with the hope of leading to the
capture of the mother. Presently she arose close to
the 'fast boat,' and seizing the young one, dragged
about 600 feet of line out of the boat with remarkable
force and velocity. Again she rose to the surface,
darted furiously to and fro, frequently stopped short
or suddenly changed her direction, and gave every
possible intimation of extreme agony. For a length of
time she continued thus to act, though pursued closely
by the boats; and, inspired with courage and
resolution by her concern for her young, seemed
regardless of the danger's which surrounded her. At
length one of the boats approached so near that a
harpoon was hove at her; it hit, but did not attach
itself. A second harpoon was struck, but this also
failed to penetrate; but a third was more successful,
and held. Still she did not attempt to escape, but
allowed other boats to approach; so that in a few
minutes three more harpoons were fastened, and in the
course of an hour afterwards she was killed.[190]
Mr. Saville Kent communicates an article to 'Nature' (vol. viii., p.
229) on 'Intellect of Porpoises.' He says:--
The keeper in charge of these interesting animals is
now in the habit of summoning them to their meals by
the call of a whistle; his approaching footsteps,
even, cause great excitement in their movements. . . .
The curiosity attributed to these creatures, as
illustrated by the experiences of Mr. Matthew
Williams, receives ample confirmation from their
habits and confinement. A new arrival is at once
subjected to the most importunate attention, and,
advancing from familiarity to contempt if disapproved
of, soon becomes the object of attack and persecution.
A few dog-fish (_Acanthias_ and _Mastelus_), three or
four feet long, now fell victims to their tyranny, the
porpoises seizing them by their tails, and swimming
off with and shaking them in a manner scarcely
conducive to their comfort or dignified appearance,
reminding the spectator of a large dog worrying a
rat. . . . On one occasion I witnessed the two _Cetacea_
acting evidently in concert against one of these
unwieldy fish (skates), the latter swimming close to
the top of the water, and seeking momentary respite
from its relentless enemies by lifting its unfortunate
caudal appendage high above its surface--the peculiar
tail of the skate being the object of sport to the
porpoises, which seized it in their mouths as a
convenient handle whereby to pull the animal about,
and worry it incessantly.
In a subsequent number of 'Nature' (vol. ix., p. 42) Mr. C. Fox
writes:--
Several years ago a herd of porpoises was scattered by
a net which I had got made to enclose some of them. . . .
The whole 'sculle' was much alarmed, and two were
secured. I conclude that their companions retained a
vivid remembrance of the sea-fight, as these
_Cetacea_, although frequent visitants in this harbour
(Falmouth) previously, and often watched for, were not
seen in it again for two years or more.
_Horse and Ass._
The horse is not so intelligent an animal as any of the larger
Carnivora, while among herbivorous quadrupeds his sagacity is greatly
exceeded by that of the elephant, and in a lesser degree by that of his
congener the ass. On the other hand, his intelligence is a grade or two
above that of perhaps any ruminant or other herbivorous quadruped.
The emotional life of this animal is remarkable, in that it appears to
admit of undergoing a sudden transformation in the hands of the
'horse-tamer.' The celebrated results obtained by Rarey in this
connection have since been repeated with more or less success by many
persons in various parts of the world, and the 'method' appears to be in
all cases essentially the same. The untamed and apparently untamable
animal has its fore-leg or legs strapped up, is cast on its side and
allowed to struggle for a while. It is then subjected to various
manipulations, which, without necessarily causing pain, make the animal
feel its helplessness and the mastery of the operator. The extraordinary
fact is that, after having once felt this, the spirit or emotional life
of the animal undergoes a complete and sudden change, so that from
having been 'wild' it becomes 'tame.' In some cases there are subsequent
relapses, but these are easily checked. Even the truly 'wild' horse from
the prairie admits of being completely subdued in a marvellously short
time by the Gauchos, who employ an essentially similar method, although
the struggle is here much more fierce and prolonged.[191] The same may be
said of the taming of wild elephants, although in this case the facts
are not nearly so remarkable from a psychological point of view, seeing
that the process of taming is so much more slow.
Another curious emotional feature in the horse is the liability of all
the other mental faculties of the animal to become abandoned to that of
terror. For I think I am right in saying that the horse is the only
animal which, under the influence of fear, loses the possession of every
other sense in one mad and mastering desire to run. With its entire
mental life thus overwhelmed by the flood of a single emotion, the horse
not only loses, as other animals lose, 'presence of mind,' or a due
balance among the distinctively intellectual faculties, but even the
avenues of special sense become stopped, so that the wholly demented
animal may run headlong and at terrific speed against a stone wall. I
have known a hare come to grief in a somewhat similar fashion when hotly
pursued by a dog; this, however, was clearly owing to the hare looking
behind instead of before, in a manner not, under the circumstances,
unwise; but, as I have said, there is no animal except the horse whose
whole psychology is thus liable to be completely dominated by a single
emotion.
As for its other emotions, the horse is certainly an affectionate
animal, pleased at being petted, jealous of companions receiving
favour, greatly enjoying play with others of its kind, and also the
sport of the hunting-field. Lastly, horses exhibit pride in a marked
degree, as do also mules. Such animals, when well kept, are unmistakably
pleased with gay trappings, so that 'in Spain, as a punishment for
disobedience, it is usual to strip the animal of its gaudy coronal and
bells, and to transfer them to another' (Thompson).
The memory of the horse is remarkably good, as almost every one must
have had occasion to observe who has driven one over roads which the
animal may have only once traversed a long time before. As showing the
duration of memory I may quote the following letter to Mr. Darwin from
the Rev. Rowland H. Wedgwood, which I find among the MSS. of the
former:--
I want to tell you of an instance of long memory in a
horse. I have just driven my pony down from London
here, and though she has not been here for eight
years, she remembered her way quite well, and made a
bolt for the stables where I used to keep her.
A few instances of the display of intelligence by members of the horse
tribe may bring this section to a close.
* * * * *
Mr. W. J. Fleming writes me concerning a vicious horse he had which,
while being groomed, frequently used to throw a ball of wood attached to
his halter at the groom. He did so by flexing his fetlock and jamming
the ball between the pastern and the leg, then throwing the ball
backwards 'with great force.'
I myself had a horse which was very clever at slipping his halter after
he knew that the coachman was in bed. He would then draw out the two
sticks in the pipe of the oat-bin, so as to let all the oats run down
from the bin above upon the stable floor. Of course he must have
observed that this was the manner in which the coachman obtained the
oats, and desiring to obtain them, did what he had observed to be
required. Similarly, on other occasions he used to turn the water-tap to
obtain a drink, and pull the window cord to open the window on hot
nights.
The anecdote books contain several stories very much alike concerning
horses spontaneously visiting blacksmiths' shops when they require
shoeing, or feel their shoes uncomfortable. The appended account,
vouched for as it is by a good authority, may be taken as corroborative
of these stories. I quote the account from 'Nature' (May 19, 1881):--
The following instance of animal intelligence is sent
to us by Dr. John Rae, F.R.S., who states that the Mr.
William Sinclair mentioned is respectable and
trustworthy. The anecdote is taken from the 'Orkney
Herald' of May 11:--"A well-authenticated and
extraordinary case of the sagacity of the Shetland
pony has just come under our notice. A year or two ago
Mr. William Sinclair, pupil-teacher, Holm, imported
one of these little animals from Shetland on which to
ride to and from school, his residence being at a
considerable distance from the school buildings. Up to
that time the animal had been unshod, but some time
afterwards Mr. Sinclair had it shod by Mr. Pratt, the
parish blacksmith. The other day Mr. Pratt, whose
smithy is a long distance from Mr. Sinclair's house,
saw the pony, without halter or anything upon it,
walking up to where he was working. Thinking the
animal had strayed from home, he drove it off,
throwing stones after the beast to make it run
homewards. This had the desired effect for a short
time; but Mr. Pratt had only got fairly at work once
more in the smithy when the pony's head again made its
appearance at the door. On proceeding a second time
outside to drive the pony away, Mr. Pratt, with a
blacksmith's instinct, took a look at the pony's feet,
when he observed that one of its shoes had been lost.
Having made a shoe he put it on, and then waited to
see what the animal would do. For a moment it looked
at the blacksmith as if asking whether he was done,
then pawed once or twice to see if the newly-shod foot
was comfortable, and finally gave a pleased neigh,
erected its head, and started homewards at a brisk
trot. The owner was also exceedingly surprised to find
the animal at home completely shod the same evening,
and it was only on calling at the smithy some days
afterwards that he learned the full extent of his
pony's sagacity."
In 'Nature,' also (vol. xx., p. 21), Mr. Claypole, of Antioch Cottage,
Ohio, writes as follows:--
A friend of mine is employed on a farm near Toronto,
Ontario, where a horse, belonging to the wife of the
farmer, is never required to work, but is allowed to
live the life of a gentleman, for the following
reason. Some years ago the lady above mentioned fell
off a plank bridge into a stream when the water was
deep. The horse, which was feeding in a field close
by, ran to the spot, and held her up with his teeth
till assistance arrived, thus probably saving her
life. Was this reason or instinct?
Mr. Strickland, also writing to 'Nature' (vol. xix., p. 410), says:--
A mare here had her first foal when she was ten or
twelve years old. She was blind of one eye. The result
was, she frequently trod upon the foal or knocked it
over when it happened to be on the blind side of her,
in consequence of which the foal died when it was
three or four months old. The next year she had
another foal, and we fully expected the result would
be the same. But no; from the day it was born she
never moved in the stall without looking round to see
where the foal was, and she never trod upon it or
injured it in any way. You see that reason did not
teach her that she was killing her first foal; her
care for the second was the result of memory,
imagination, and thought after the foal was dead, and
before the next one was born. The only difference that
I can see between the reasoning power of men and
animals is that the latter is applied only to the very
limited space of providing for their bodily wants,
whereas that of men embraces a vast amount of other
objects besides this.
Houzeau (vol. ii., p. 207) says that the mules used in the tramways at
New Orleans prove that they are able to count five; for they have to
make five journeys from one end of the tramway to the other before they
are released, and they make four of these journeys without showing that
they expect to be released, but bray at the end of the fifth. This
observation, however, requires to be confirmed, for unless carefully
made we must suppose that the fact may be due to the mules seeing the
ostler waiting to take them out.
Mr. Samuel Goodbehere, solicitor, writes me from Birmingham the
following instance as having fallen under his own observation:--
We had a Welsh cob pony or Galloway about 14 hands
high, who was occasionally kept in a shed (in a
farmyard), partly closed at the front by a gate which
was secured by a bolt inside and a drop latch outside.
The pony (who was able to put his head and neck over
the gate, but could not reach the outside latch) was
constantly found loose in the yard, which was
considered quite a mystery until it was solved one day
by my observing the pony first pushing back the inside
bolt, and then neighing until a donkey, who had the
run of the yard and an adjoining paddock, came and
pushed up the outside latch with his nose, thus
letting the pony at liberty, when the two marched off
together.
The following is the only instance that I have met with in any of the
horse tribe of that degree of sagacity which leads to the intentional
concealment of wrong-doing. In the case of elephants, dogs, and monkeys
we find abundant evidence on this head, which therefore renders the
following instance more antecedently credible, and, as it is also
narrated on good authority, I do not hesitate to quote it.
Professor Niphon, of Washington University, St. Louis, U.S., says:--
A friend of mine living at Iowa City had a mule, whose
ingenuity in getting into mischief was more than
ordinarily remarkable. This animal had a great liking
for the company of an oat-bin, and lost no
opportunity, when the yard gate and barn door were
open, to secure a mouthful of oats. Finally the mule
was found in the barn in the morning, and for a long
time it was found impossible to discover how he had
come there. This went on for some time, until the
animal was 'caught in the act.' It was found that he
had learned how to open the gate, reaching over the
fence to lift the latch, and that he then effectually
mystified his masters by turning round and backing
against it until it was latched. He then proceeded to
the barn door, and pulling out the pin which held the
door, it swung open of its own accord. From the
intelligence which this animal displayed on many
occasions, I am of the opinion that had not discovery
of his trick prevented, it would soon have occurred to
him to retrace his steps before daylight, in order to
avoid the clubbing which the stable boys gave him in
the morning. It may be added that this animal had
enjoyed no unusual educational advantages, and his
owners found it to their interest to discourage his
intellectual efforts as much as possible.[192]
_Ruminants._
Concerning sympathy, Major-General Sir George Le Grand Jacob, C.B., &c.,
writes me of instances which he observed of doe ibexes raising with
their heads the bucks which he shot, and supporting them during flight.
A vivid and intelligent class of emotions, in which sympathy and
rational fear are blended, seem to be exhibited by cattle in
slaughterhouses. Many years ago a pamphlet was written upon the subject,
and more recently Mr. Robert Hamilton, F.C.S., without apparently
knowing of this previous publication, wrote another pamphlet, conveying
precisely similar statements. These are too long to quote _in extenso_;
but from a letter which the latter gentleman writes to me I may make the
following extract:--
The animal witnessing the process of killing, flaying,
&c., repeated on one after another of its fellows,
gets to comprehend to the full extent the dreadful
ordeal, and as it mentally grasps the meaning of it
all, the increasing horror depicted in its condition
can be clearly seen. Of course some portray it much
more vividly than others; the varying intelligence
manifested in this respect is only another link which
knits them in oneness with the human family.
Pride is well marked in sheep and cattle, as shown by the depressing
effects produced on a 'bell-wether' or leading cow by transferring the
bell to another member of the herd; and it is said that in Switzerland
the beasts which on show days are provided with garlands, are evidently
aware of the distinction thus placed upon them. With some amount of
poetic exaggeration this fact is noted by Schiller, who says in 'Wilhelm
Tell,'--
See with what pride your steer his garland wears;
He knows himself the leader of the herd;
But strip him of it, and he'd die of grief.
With regard to the general intelligence of ruminants I may first quote
the following:--
The sagacity with which the bisons defend themselves
against the attack of wolves is admirable. When they
scent the approach of a drove of these ravenous
creatures, the herd throws itself into the form of a
circle, having the weakest and the calves in the
middle, and the strongest ranged on the outside; thus
presenting an impenetrable front of horns.[193]
The buffalo of the Old World manifests sagacity very similar. As Sir J.
E. Tennent informs us,--
The temper of the wild buffalo is morose and
uncertain; and such is its strength and courage, that
in the Hindu epic of the 'Ramayana' its onslaught is
compared with that of the tiger. It is never quite
safe to approach them if disturbed in their pasture,
or alarmed from their repose in the shallow lakes. On
such occasions they hurry into line, draw up in
defensive array, with a few of the oldest bulls in
advance; and, wheeling in circles, their horns
clashing with a loud sound as they clank them together
in their rapid evolutions, they prepare for attack:
but generally, after a menacing display, the herd
betake themselves to flight; then forming again at a
safer distance, they halt as before, elevating their
nostrils, and throwing back their heads to take a
defiant survey of the intruders.[194]
When tamed this animal is used for sporting purposes in a manner which
displays the spirit of curiosity of deer, hogs, and other animals. Thus,
Sir J. E. Tennent continues:--
A bell is attached to its neck, and a box or basket
with one side open is securely strapped on its back.
This at night is lighted with flambeaux of wax, and
the buffalo bearing it is slowly driven into the
jungle. The huntsmen with their fowling-pieces keep
close under the darkened side, and as it moves slowly
onwards, the wild animals, startled by the sound and
bewildered by the light, steal cautiously towards it
in stupefied fascination. Even the snake, I am
assured, will be attracted by this extraordinary
object; and the leopard, too, falls a victim to
curiosity.[195]
Livingstone says of the African buffalo, that he has known the animal,
when pursued by hunters, to 'turn back to a point a few yards from its
own trail, and then lie down in a hollow for the hunter to come up,'--a
fact which displays a level of intelligence in this animal surpassing
that which is met with in most Carnivora.[196]
Livingstone also says:--
It is curious to observe the intelligence of game; in
districts where they are much annoyed by fire-arms
they keep out on the most open spots of country they
can find, in order to have a widely extended range of
vision, and a man armed is carefully shunned. . . .
But here, where they are killed by the arrows of the
Balonda, they select for safety the densest forest,
where the arrow cannot be easily shot.[197]
Jesse, who had many opportunities of observing the fact, says:--
I have been much delighted with watching the manner in
which some of the old bucks in Bushey Park continue to
get the berries from the fine thorn trees there. They
will raise themselves on their hind legs, give a
spring, entangle their horns in the lower branches of
the tree, give them one or two shakes, and they will
then quietly pick them up.[198]
The same author elsewhere says:--
Few things, indeed, can show more forcibly the
powerful instinct which is implanted in animals for
their self-preservation than the means which they take
to avoid danger. I saw an instance of this lately in a
stag. It had been turned out before a pack of hounds,
and, when somewhat pressed by them, I observed it
twice to go amongst a flock of sheep, and in both
cases to double back, evidently, I should imagine,
with the intention of baffling the pursuit of the
dogs. It would thus seem that the animal was aware of
its being followed by the scent, and not by sight. If
this be the case, it affords another proof that
animals are possessed of something more than common
instinct.[199]
This author also says that he has 'frequently observed the buffalo at
the Zoological Farm on Kingston Hill' display the following proof of
intelligence. Being of a ferocious disposition, a strong iron ring was
fixed through the septum of his nose, to which a chain about two feet
long was attached. At the free end of the chain there was another ring
about four inches in diameter. 'In grazing the buffalo must have put his
feet on this ring, and in raising his head the jerk would have produced
considerable pain. In order to avoid this the animal has the sense to
put his horn through the lower ring, and thus avoid the inconvenience he
is put to. I have seen him do this in a very deliberate manner, putting
his head on one side while he got his horn through the ring, and then
shaking his head till the ring rested at the bottom of the horn.'[200]
The following is quoted from Mrs. Lee's 'Anecdotes' (p. 366), and is
rendered credible not only because her own observations are generally
good, but also because we shall subsequently find unquestionable
evidence of the display of similar intelligence by cats:--
A goat and her kids frequented a square in which I
once lived, and were often fed by myself and
servants--a circumstance which would have made no
impression, had I not heard a thumping at the hall
door, which arose from the buttings of the goat when
the food was not forthcoming, and whose example was
followed by the two little things. After a time this
remained unheeded, and, to our great astonishment, one
day the area bell used by the tradespeople, the wire
of which passed by the side of one of the railings,
was sounded. The cook answered it, but no one was
there save the goat and kids, with their heads bent
down towards the kitchen window. It was thought that
some boy had rung for them; but they were watched, and
the old goat was seen to hook one of her horns into
the wire and pull it. This is too much like reason to
be ascribed to mere instinct.
P. Wakefield, in his 'Instinct Displayed,'[201] gives two separate cases
of an intelligent manoeuvre performed by goats. On both occasions two
goats met on a ridge of rock with a precipice on each side, and too
narrow to admit of their passing one another. One of these cases
occurred on the ramparts of Plymouth Citadel, and was witnessed by 'many
persons;' the other took place at Ardenglass, in Ireland. 'In both these
instances the animals looked at each other for some time, as if they
were considering their situation, and deliberating what was best to be
done in the emergency.' In each case one of the goats then 'knelt down
with great caution, and crouched as close as it could lie, when the
other walked over its back.' This manoeuvre on the part of goats has
also been recorded by other writers, and is not so incredible as it may
at first sight appear, if we remember that in their wild state these
animals must not unfrequently find themselves in this predicament.
Mr. W. Forster, writing from Australia, gives me the following account
of the intelligence of a bull:--
A rather tame bull, bred of a milch cow, used to
puzzle me by being found inside a paddock used for
cultivation, and enclosed by a two-railed fence, of
which the lower rail was unusually high. At last I saw
the animal lie down close to the fence, and roll over
on his back, with four legs in the air, by which
proceeding he was inside the paddock. I never knew
another beast perform this feat; and although it must
have been often done in the presence of a number of
cows, not one of them ever imitated it, though they
would all have unquestionably followed the bull
through an opening in the fence, or by the slip-rails.
Mr. G. S. Erb, writing from Salt Lake City, gives me an interesting
account of the sagacity displayed by the wild deer of the United States
in avoiding gun-traps, which, except for the cutting of the string, to
which the teeth of the animal are not so well adapted, is strikingly
similar to the sagacity which we shall see to be displayed in this
respect by sundry species of Carnivora. He says:--
My method was this: I would fell or cut down a maple
tree, the top of which they are very partial to; and
as the ground was invariably covered with snow to the
depth of 12 inches, food was scarce, and the deer
would come and browse, probably from hearing the tree
fall. I would place a loaded gun 20 feet from the top
of the tree at which it was pointing; I would attach a
line the size of an ordinary fish-line to a lever that
pressed against the trigger; the other end of the line
I would fasten to the tree-top. By this means the deer
could not pass between the tree and the gun without
getting shot, or at least shot at; but I never
succeeded in killing one when my line was as large as
a fish-line, _i.e._ about one-sixteenth of an inch in
thickness. Commencing at the body of the tree on one
side, the deer would eat all the tops to within 12
inches of the line, and then go around the gun and eat
all on the other side, never touching the line. I
tried this at least sixty times, always with the same
result. Then I took a black linen thread, and had no
difficulty in killing them, as it was so small and
black that they could not distinguish it.
_Pigs._
There can be no doubt that pigs exhibit a degree of intelligence which
falls short only of that of the most intelligent Carnivora. The tricks
taught the so-called 'learned pigs' would alone suffice to show this;
while the marvellous skill with which swine sometimes open latches and
fastenings of gates, &c., is only equalled by that of the cat. The
following account of pigs in their wild state shows that they manifest
the same kind of sagacious co-operation in facing an enemy as that which
we have just seen to be manifested by the bison and the buffalo,
although here it seems to be displayed in a manner still more
organised:--
Wild swine associate in herds and defend themselves in
common. Green relates that in the wilds of Vermont a
person fell in with a large herd in a state of
extraordinary restlessness; they had formed a circle
with their heads outwards, and the young ones placed
in the middle. A wolf was using every artifice to snap
one, and on his return he found the herd scattered,
but the wolf was dead and completely ripped up.
Schmarda recounts an almost similar encounter between
a herd of tame swine and a wolf, which he witnessed on
the military positions of Croatia. He says that the
swine, seeing two wolves, formed themselves into a
wedge, and approached the wolves slowly, grunting and
erecting their bristles. One wolf fled, but the other
leaped on to the trunk of a tree. As soon as the swine
reached it they surrounded it with one accord, when,
suddenly and instantaneously, as the wolf attempted to
leap over them, they got him down and destroyed him in
a moment.[202]
In Bingley's 'Memoirs of British Quadrupeds' (page 452) there is an
account drawn up at his request by Sir Henry Mildmay, concerning the
docility of the pig. The Toomer brothers were King's keepers in the New
Forest, and they conceived the idea of training a sow to point game.
This they succeeded in doing within a fortnight, and in a few more
weeks it also learnt to retrieve. Her scent was exceedingly good, and
she stood well at partridges, black game, pheasants, snipes, and
rabbits, but never pointed hares. She was more useful than a dog, and
afterwards became the property of Sir Henry Mildmay. According to
Youatt,[203] Colonel Thornton also had a sow similarly trained. The same
author says that a sow belonging to Mr. Craven had a litter of pigs, one
of which, when old enough, was taken and roasted, then a second and a
third. These were necessarily taken when the mother returned in the
evening from the woods for supper. But the next time she came she was
alone, and, 'as her owners were anxious to know what was become of her
brood, she was watched on the following evening, and observed driving
back her pigs at the extremity of the wood, with much earnest grunting,
while she went off to the house, leaving them to wait for her return. It
was evident that she had noticed the diminution of her family, and had
adopted this method to save those that remained.'[204]
Mr. Stephen Harding sends me the following as an observation of his
own:--
On the 15th ult. (Nov. 1879) I saw an intelligent sow
pig about twelve months old, running in an orchard,
going to a young apple tree and shaking it, pricking
up her ears at the same time, as if to listen to hear
the apples fall. She then picked the apples up and ate
them. After they were all down she shook the tree
again and listened, but as there were no more to fall
she went away.
The proverbial indifference to dirt attributed to the pig seems scarcely
to be justified; the worst that can be said is that the animal prefers
cool mud to dry heat, and the filth which swine often exhibit in their
sty is the fault of the farmers rather than of the animals. Or, to quote
from Thompson's 'Passions,'--
A washed sow in the hot season of our temperate
climate, and in almost every season of such a climate
as that of Palestine, 'returns to her wallowing in the
mire' simply because she feels scorched, and
blistered, and sickened under the ardent sunshine;
and hence, when she receives from man the aid which is
due to her as a domesticated animal, she demands not
dirt all the year through, nor any day at all, but
shade in summer, shelter in winter, and a clean, dry
bed in every season.
_Cheiroptera._
Mr. Bates says of bats: 'The fact of their sucking the blood of persons
sleeping is now well established; but it is only a few persons who are
subject to this bloodletting. . . . I am inclined to think many different
kinds of bats have this propensity' ('Nat. on Amaz.,' p. 91). The
particular species of bat, however, which has been most universally
accredited with this habit, viz., the vampire, is perfectly harmless.
Mr. G. Clark ('A Brief Notice of the Fauna of Mauritius') gives an
account of the intelligence displayed by a tame bat (_Pteropus
vulgaris_). As soon as its master came into the room, it welcomed him
with cries; and if not at once taken up to be petted, it climbed up his
dress, rubbed its head against him, and licked his hands. If Mr. Clark
took anything in his hand, the bat would carefully examine it by sight
and smell, and when he sat down the bat would hang upon the back of his
chair, following all his movements with its eyes.
_Carnivora._
I shall here run together a few facts relating to the intelligence of
carnivorous animals other than those to be considered in subsequent
chapters.
_Seals._--In their wild state these animals have not much opportunity
for the display of intelligence; but when tamed it is seen that the
latter is considerable. They are then affectionate animals, liking to be
petted, and showing attachment to their homes. The most remarkable
species of the order from a psychological point of view are the
so-called Pinnipeds, whose habits during the breeding season are so
peculiar that I think it is worth while to quote the best account that
has hitherto been published on the subject. This is the elaborate work
of Mr. Joel Asaph Allen:[205]--
From the time of the first arrivals in May up to the
1st of June, as late as the middle of this month if
the weather be clear, is an interval in which
everything seems quiet; very few seals are added to
the pioneers. By the 1st of June, however, or
thereabouts, the foggy, humid weather of summer sets
in, and with it the bull-seals come up by hundreds and
thousands, and locate themselves in advantageous
positions for the reception of the females, which are
from three weeks to a month later, as a rule. The
labour of locating and maintaining a position in the
rookery is really a serious business for those bulls
which come in last, and for those that occupy the
water-line, frequently resulting in death from severe
wounds in combat sustained. It appears to be a well
understood principle among the able-bodied bulls that
each one shall remain undisturbed on his ground, which
is usually about ten feet square, provided he is
strong enough to hold it against all comers; for the
crowding in of fresh bulls often causes the removal of
those who, though equally able-bodied at first, have
exhausted themselves by fighting earlier, and are
driven by the fresher animals back further and higher
up on the rookery. Some of these bulls show wonderful
strength and courage. I have marked one veteran, who
was among the first to take up his position, and that
one on the water-line, when at least fifty or sixty
desperate battles were fought victoriously by him with
nearly as many different seals who coveted his
position; and when the fighting season was over (after
the cows have mostly all hauled up) I saw him covered
with scars and gashes, raw and bloody, an eye gouged
out, but holding it bravely over his harem of fifteen
or twenty cows, all huddled together on the same spot
he had first chosen. The fighting is mostly or
entirely done with the mouth, the opponents seizing
each other with the teeth and clenching the jaws;
nothing but sheer strength can shake them loose, and
that effort almost always leaves an ugly wound, the
sharp canines tearing out deep gutters in the skin and
blubber, or shredding the flippers into ribbon-strips.
They usually approach each other with averted heads
and a great many false passes before either one or the
other takes the initiative by gripping; the heads are
darted out and back as quick as flash, their hoarse
roaring and shrill piping whistle never ceases, while
their fat bodies writhe and swell with exertion and
rage, fur flying in air and blood streaming down--all
combined make a picture fierce and savage enough, and,
from its great novelty, exceedingly strange at first
sight. In these battles the parties are always
distinct, the offensive and the defensive; if the
latter proves the weaker he withdraws from the
position occupied, and is never followed by his
conqueror, who complacently throws up one of his hind
flippers, fans himself, as it were, to cool himself
from the heat of the conflict, uttering a peculiar
chuckle of satisfaction and contempt, with a sharp eye
open for the next covetous bull or 'sea-catch' (native
name for the bulls on the rookeries, especially those
which are able to maintain their position).
* * * * *
All the bulls, from the very first, that have been
able to hold their positions have not left them for an
instant, night or day; nor do they do so until the end
of the rutting season, which subsides entirely between
the 1st and 10th of August, beginning shortly after
the coming of the cows in June. Of necessity,
therefore, this causes them to fast, to abstain
entirely from food of any kind, or water for at least
three months; and a few of them stay four months
before going into the water for the first time after
hauling up in May. This alone is remarkable enough,
but it is simply wonderful when we come to associate
the condition with unceasing activity, restlessness,
and duty devolved upon the bulls as heads and fathers
of large families. They do not stagnate like bears in
caves; it is evidently accomplished or due to the
absorption of their own fat, with which they are so
literally supplied when they take their positions on
the breeding-ground, and which gradually diminishes
while they remain on it.
* * * * *
They are noticed and received by the bulls on the
water-line station with much attention; they are
alternately coaxed and urged up on the rocks, and are
immediately under the most jealous supervision; but
owing to the covetous and ambitious nature of the
bulls which occupy the stations reaching some way back
from the water-line, the little cows have a
rough-and-tumble time of it when they begin to arrive
in small numbers at first; for no sooner is the pretty
animal fairly established on the station of bull No. 1
who has installed her there, than he perhaps sees
another one of her style down in the water from which
she has just come, and in obedience to his polygamous
feeling, he devotes himself anew to coaxing the later
arrival in the same winning manner so successful in
her case, when bull No. 2, seeing bull No. 1 off his
guard, reaches out his long strong neck, and picks the
unhappy but passive creature up by the scruff of hers,
just as a cat does a kitten, and deposits her on his
seraglio-ground; then bulls Nos. 3, 4, 5, and so on in
the vicinity, seeing this high-handed operation, all
assail one another, and especially bull No. 2, and
have a tremendous fight perhaps for half a minute or
so; and during this commotion the cow is generally
moved or moves farther back from the water two or
three stations more, where, when all gets quiet, she
usually remains in peace. Her late lord and master,
not having the exposure to such diverting temptation
as had her first, gives her such care that she not
only is unable to leave did she wish, but no other
bull can seize upon her. This is only one instance of
the many different trials and tribulations which both
parties on the rookery subject themselves to before
the harems are filled. Far back, fifteen or twenty
stations deep from the water-line sometimes, but
generally not more than, on an average, ten or
fifteen, the cows crowd in at the close of the season
for arriving, July 10 to 14, and then they are able to
go about pretty much as they please, for the bulls
have become greatly enfeebled by this constant
fighting and excitement during the past two months,
and are quite content with even only one or two
partners.
* * * * *
I have found it difficult to ascertain the average
number of cows to one bull on the rookery, but I think
it will be nearly correct to assign to each male from
twelve to fifteen females occupying the stations
nearest the water, those back in the rear from five to
nine. I have counted forty-five cows all under the
charge of one bull, which had them penned up on a flat
table-rock near Kestaire Point; the bull was enabled
to do this quite easily, as there was but one way to
go to or come from this seraglio, and on this path the
old Turk took his stand and guarded it well. At the
rear of all these rookeries there is always a large
number of able-bodied bulls, who wait patiently, but
in vain, for families, most of them having had to
fight as desperately for the privilege of being there
as any of their more fortunately located neighbours,
who are nearer the water than themselves; but the cows
do not like to be in any outside position, when they
are not in close company lying most quiet and content
in the largest harems; and these large families pack
the surface of the ground so thickly that there is
hardly moving or turning room until the females cease
to come up from the sea; but the inaction on the part
of the bulls in the rear during the rutting season
only serves to qualify them to move into the places
vacated by those males who are obliged to leave from
exhaustion, or to take the position of fearless and
jealous protectors for the young pups in the fall. The
courage with which the fur-seal holds his position as
the head and guardian of a family is of the very
highest order compared with that of other animals. I
have repeatedly tried to drive them when they have
fairly established themselves, and have almost always
failed, using every stone at my command, making all
the noise I could, and finally, to put their courage
to the full test, I walked up to within twenty feet of
a bull at the rear and extreme end of Tolstoi Rookery,
who had four cows in charge, and commenced with my
double-barrelled breech-loading shot-gun to pepper him
all over with mustard-seed or dust-shot. His bearing
in spite of the noise, smell of powder, and pain, did
not change in the least from the usual attitude of
determined defence which nearly all the bulls assume
when attacked with showers of stones and noise; he
would dart out right and left and catch the cows which
timidly attempted to run after each report, fling and
drag them back to their places; then, stretching up to
his full height, look me directly and defiantly in the
face, roaring and spitting most vehemently. The cows,
however, soon got away from him, but he still stood
his ground, making little charges on me of ten or
fifteen feet in a succession of gallops or lunges,
spitting furiously and then retreating to the old
position, back of which he would not go, fully
resolved to hold his own or die in the attempt.
This courage is all the more noteworthy from the fact
that, in regard to man, it is invariably of a
defensive character. The seal, if it makes you turn
when you attack it, never follows you much farther
than the boundary of its station, and no aggravation
will compel it to become offensive, as far as I have
been able to observe.
* * * * *
The apathy with which the young are treated by the old
on the breeding-grounds is somewhat strange. I have
never seen a cow caress or fondle her offspring, and
should it stray but a short distance from the harem,
it can be picked up and killed before the mother's
eyes, without causing her to show the slightest
concern. The same indifference is exhibited by the
bull to all that takes place outside of the boundary
of his seraglio. While the pups are, however, within
the limits of his harem-ground he is a jealous and
fearless protector; but if the little animals pass
beyond this boundary, then they may be carried off
without the slightest attention in their behalf from
their guardian.
* * * * *
Early in August (8th) the pups that are nearest the
water on the rookeries essay swimming, but make slow
and clumsy progress, floundering about, when over head
in depth, in the most awkward manner, thrashing the
water with their fore-flippers, not using the hinder
ones. In a few seconds, or a minute at the most, the
youngest is so wary that he crawls out upon the rocks
or beach, and immediately takes a recuperative nap,
repeating the lesson as quick as he awakes and is
rested. They soon get familiar with the water and
delight in it, swimming in endless evolutions,
twisting, turning, diving; and when exhausted, they
draw up on the beach again, shake themselves as young
dogs do, either going to sleep on the spot, or having
a lazy frolic among themselves.
In this matter of learning to swim, I have not seen
any 'driving' of the young pups into the water by the
old in order to teach them this process, as has been
affirmed by writers on the subject of seal life.
_Otter._--The fact that otters admit of being taught to catch fish and
bring them to their masters, shows no small degree of docility on the
part of these animals. 'I have seen,' says Dr. Goldsmith, 'an otter go
to a gentleman's pond at word of command, drive the fish into a corner,
and, seizing upon the largest of the whole, bring it off in his mouth to
his master.' And several other cases of the same kind are given by
Bingley.[206]
_Weasel._--'Mdlle. de Faister described her tame weasel to Buffon as
playing with her fingers like a kitten, jumping on her head and neck;
and if she presented her hands at the distance of three feet, it jumped
into them without ever missing. It distinguished her voice amidst twenty
people, and sprang over everybody to get at her. She found it impossible
to open a drawer or a box, or even to look at a paper, without his
examining it also. If she took up a paper or book, and looked
attentively at it, the weasel immediately ran upon her hand, and
surveyed with an inquisitive air whatever she happened to hold.'[207]
_Polecat._--Professor Alison, in his article on 'Instinct,' in Todd's
'Cyclopædia of Anatomy,' quotes the following account from the 'Magazine
of Natural History' (vol. iv., p. 206) touching a remarkable instinct
manifested by polecats. 'I dug out five young polecats, comfortably
embedded in dry, withered grass; and in a side-hole, of proper
dimensions for such a larder, I picked out forty large frogs and two
toads, all alive, but merely capable of sprawling a little. On
examination, I found that the whole number, toads and all, had been
purposely and dexterously bitten through the brain.' The analogy of this
instinct to that which has already been mentioned as having been much
more recently observed by M. Fabre in the sphex insect is noteworthy.
_Ferret._--I once kept a ferret as a domestic pet. He was a very large
specimen, and my sister taught him a number of tricks, such as begging
for food (which he did quite as well and patiently as any terrier),
leaping over sticks, &c. He became a very affectionate animal,
delighting much in being petted, and following like a dog when taken out
for walk. He would, however, only follow those persons whom he well
knew. That his memory was exceedingly good was shown by the fact that
after an absence of many months, during which he was never required to
beg, or to perform any of his tricks, he went through all his paces
perfectly the first time that we again tried him.
I strongly suspect that ferrets dream, as I have frequently seen them
when fast asleep moving their noses and twitching their claws as if in
pursuit of rabbits. Another fact I may mention as bearing on the
intelligence of these animals. On one occasion, while ferreting rabbits,
I lost the ferret about a mile away from home. Some days afterwards the
animal returned to his home. Similar cases have been communicated to me
by several sporting friends, but certainly the return of a ferret under
such circumstances is the exception, and not the rule.
_Wolverine._--Amazing tales are told concerning the intelligence of this
animal, which for the most part are certainly exaggerations. Still there
is no doubt that the creature does display a degree of sagacious cunning
unsurpassed, if not unequalled, in the animal kingdom. This may be
shown by the two following quotations from the statements of trustworthy
writers. The first is a letter kindly sent me by Dr. J. Rae, F.R.S., in
reply to my request for information concerning the intelligence of this
animal:--
The narratives of most travellers in America tell
wonderful stories of the glutton or wolverine, but I
do not know that any of my experiences of this
extremely acute animal indicate what I call reasoning
powers. They are very suspicious, and can seldom or
never be taken with poisoned bait, trap, or gun. The
poisoned baits are usually found broken up, but not
eaten by them; traps are destroyed or entered, but not
where the trapper desired; and guns, except when
concealed after the Eskimo fashion by a covering of
snow, are avoided.
In 1853, on the Arctic coast, when about to change our
domicile from a tent to the warmer snow hut, my man
had carried over about 100 lbs. or more of fine
venison steaks to the snow houses about a quarter of a
mile from our tents; and as there were at the time no
traces either of foxes, wolves, or wolverines about,
the meat was placed overnight in one of the huts, and
the door left open. During the night two wolverines
came, but, evidently dreading some trap or danger in
the open door, would not enter that way, but cut a
hole for themselves through the wall of the snow hut,
and carried off all our fine steaks, a considerable
quantity of which was picked up close to our house
when the thaw took place in the spring, it having been
hid in the snow, but completely spoilt for use, by a
well-known filthy habit.
Dr. Rae has also drawn my attention to the following account contained
in the Miscellaneous Publications of the Geological Survey of the United
States.[208] The writer of this account is Captain Elliot Cones:--
To the trapper the wolverines are equally annoying.
When they have discovered a line of marten traps they
will never abandon the road, and must be killed before
the trapping can be successfully carried on. Beginning
at one end, they proceed from trap to trap along the
whole line, pulling them successively to pieces, and
taking out the baits from behind. When they can eat no
more, they continue to steal the baits and câche
them. If hungry they may devour two or three of the
martens they find captured, the remainder being
carried off and hidden in the snow at a considerable
distance. The work of demolition goes on as fast as
the traps can be renewed.
The propensity to steal and hide things is one of the
strongest traits of the wolverine. To such an extent
is it developed that the animal will often secrete
articles of no possible use to itself. Besides the
wanton destruction of marten traps, it will carry off
the sticks and hide them at a distance, apparently in
sheer malice. Mr. Ross, in the article above quoted,
has given an amusing instance of the extreme of this
propensity. The desire for accumulating property seems
so deeply implanted in this animal, that, like tame
ravens, it does not appear to care much what it steals
so that it can exercise its favourite propensity to
commit mischief. An instance occurred within my own
knowledge, in which a hunter and his family having
left their lodge unguarded during their absence, on
their return found it completely gutted--the walls
were there, but nothing else. Blankets, guns, kettles,
axes, cans, knives, and all the other paraphernalia of
a trapper's tent had vanished, and the tracks left by
the beast showed who had been the thief. The family
set to work, and by carefully following up all his
paths recovered, with some trifling exceptions, the
whole of the lost property.
* * * * *
At Peel's River, on one occasion, a very old carcajou
discovered my marten road, on which I had nearly a
hundred and fifty traps. I was in the habit of
visiting the line about once a fortnight, but the
beast fell into the way of coming oftener than I did,
to my great annoyance and vexation. I determined to
put a stop to his thieving and his life together, cost
what it might. So I made six strong traps at as many
different points, and also set three steel traps. For
three weeks I tried my best to catch the beast without
success; and my worst enemy would allow that I am no
green hand in these matters. The animal carefully
avoided the traps set for his own benefit, and seemed
to be taking more delight than ever in demolishing my
marten traps and eating the martens, scattering the
poles in every direction, and câching what baits or
martens he did not devour on the spot. As we had no
poison in those days, I next set a gun on the bank of
a little lake. The gun was concealed in some low
bushes, but the bait was so placed that the carcajou
must see it on his way up the bank. I blockaded my
path to the gun with a small pine tree, which
completely hid it. On my first visit afterwards I
found that the beast had gone up to the bait and
smelled it, but had left it untouched. He had next
pulled up the pine tree that blocked the path, and
gone around the gun and cut the line which connected
the bait with the trigger, just behind the muzzle.
Then he had gone back and pulled the bait away, and
carried it out on the lake, where he lay down and
devoured it at his leisure. There I found my string. I
could scarcely believe that all this had been done
designedly, for it seemed that faculties fully on a
par with human reason would be required for such an
exploit if done intentionally. I therefore rearranged
things, tying the string where it had been bitten. But
the result was exactly the same for three successive
occasions, as I could plainly see by the footprints;
and what is most singular of all, each time the brute
was careful to cut the line a little back of where it
had been tied before, as if actually reasoning with
himself that even the knots might be some new device
of mine, and therefore a source of hidden danger he
would prudently avoid. I came to the conclusion that
that carcajou ought to live, as he must be something
at least human, if not worse. I gave it up, and
abandoned the road for a period.
* * * * *
With so much for the tricks and the manners of the
beast behind our backs, roaming at will in his vast
solitudes, what of his actions in the presence of man?
It is said that if one only stands still, even in full
view of an approaching carcajou, he will come within
fifty or sixty yards, provided he be to windward,
before he takes the alarm. Even then, if he be not
warned by sense of smell, he seems in doubt, and will
gaze earnestly several times before he finally
concludes to take himself off. On these and similar
occasions he has a singular habit--one not shared, so
far as I am aware, by any other beast whatever. He
sits on his haunches and shades his eyes with one of
his fore-paws, just as a human being would do in
scrutinising a dim or distant object. The carcajou,
then, in addition to his other and varied
accomplishments, is a perfect sceptic--to use this
word in its original signification. A sceptic, with
the Greeks, was simply one who would shade his eyes to
see more clearly.
_Bears._--There is no doubt that the intelligence of these animals
stands very high in the psychological scale, although the actual
instances which I have met of the display of their intelligence are few.
The tricks which are taught performing bears do not count for much as
proof of high sagacity, as they for the most part consist in teaching
the animals to assume unnatural positions, or display grotesque
antics--performances which speak indeed for the general docility of the
creatures, but scarcely for their high intelligence. Still even here it
is worth while to remark that all species of bears would probably not
lend themselves to this kind of education, for the emotional temperament
manifested by the different species is unquestionably diverse. Thus,
making all allowances for exaggeration, it seems certain that the
grizzly bear displays a courage and ferocity which are foreign to the
disposition of the brown bear, and indeed to that of most other animals.
The polar bear likewise displays much bravery under the influence of
hunger or maternal feeling, although under other circumstances it
usually deems discretion the better part of valour. The following
incident displays considerable intelligence on the part of this animal.
Scoresby, in his 'Account of the Arctic Regions,' gives the instance to
which I allude:--
The animal with two cubs was being pursued by a party
of sailors over an ice-field. She urged her young to
an increase of speed by running before them, turning
round, and manifesting, by a peculiar action and
voice, her anxiety for their progress; but finding
that her pursuers were gaining upon them, she carried,
or pushed, or pitched them alternately forward, until
she effected their escape. In throwing them before
her, the little creatures placed themselves across her
path to receive the impulse; and when projected some
yards in advance, they ran onwards until she overtook
them, when they alternately adjusted themselves for a
second throw.
As the polar bear is not exposed to any enemies except man, this method
of escaping is not likely to be instinctive, but was probably an
intelligent adaptation to the particular circumstances of the case.
Mr. S. J. Hutchinson writes me as follows with regard to this same
species:--
One Sunday, at the 'Zoo,' some one threw a bun to the
bears, but it fell in the water in that
quadrant-shaped pond you will remember. The bun fell
just at the angle, and the bear seemed disinclined to
enter the water, but stood on the edge of the pond,
and commenced _stirring_ the water with its paw, so
that it established a sort of rotatory current, which
eventually brought the bun within reach. When one leg
got tired it used the other, but in the same
direction. I watched the whole performance with the
greatest interest myself.
In corroboration of this most remarkable observation I quote the
following from Mr. Darwin's 'Descent of Man' (p. 76), which is so
precisely similar, that the fact of bears reaching the high level of
intelligence which the fact implies can scarcely be doubted. 'A
well-known entomologist, Mr. Westropp, informs me that he observed in
Vienna a bear deliberately making with his paw a current in some water
which was close to the bars of his cage, so as to draw a piece of
floating bread within his reach.'
FOOTNOTES:
[190] _Passions of Animals_, p. 154.
[191] See Mr. Darwin's account in _Naturalist's Voyage round the World_,
pp. 151-2.
[192] _Nature_, vol. xx., p. 21.
[193] Thompson, _Passions of Animals_, p. 308.
[194] _Natural History of Ceylon_, p. 54.
[195] _Ibid._, p. 56.
[196] _Missionary Travels_, p. 328.
[197] _Ibid._, p. 280.
[198] _Gleanings_, &c., vol. i., p. 20.
[199] _Ibid._, vol. ii., p. 20.
[200] _Ibid._, pp. 226-7.
[201] Pp. 66 and 97.
[202] Thompson, _Passions of Animals_, p. 308.
[203] _On the Pig_, p. 17.
[204] _Ibid._
[205] _History of the North American Pinnipeds._ The quotations are
taken from pp. 348 to 361.
[206] _Animal Biography_, vol. iii., pp. 301-2.
[207] Thompson, _Passions in Animals_, p. 337.
[208] Vol. viii., Washington, 1877: 'A Monograph of the North American
_Mustelidæ_.'