species whose zoological park training is a matter of necessity:
Elephants, bears, apes, hippopotami, rhinoceroses, giraffes,
bison, musk-ox, wild sheep, goats and deer, African antelopes,
wild swine, and wild horses, asses and zebras. Of large birds the
most conspicuous candidates for training in park life are the
ostriches, emus, cassowaries, cranes, pelicans, swans, egrets and
herons, geese, ducks, pheasants, macaws and cockatoos, curassows,
eagles and vultures. Among the reptiles, the best trained are the
giant tortoises, the pythons, boas, alligators, crocodiles,
iguanas and gopher snakes.
Each one of these species is educated (1) to be peaceful, and not
attack their keepers; (2) to not fear their keepers; (3) to do as
they are bid about going here or there; (4) to accept and eat the
food that is provided for them, and (5) finally, in some cases to
"show off" a little when commanded, for the benefit of visitors.
All this training comes in the regular course of our daily work,
and there are few animals who do not respond to it. The necessity
for training is most imperative with the elephants and bears, for
without it the difficulties in the management of those dangerous
animals is greatly intensified.
In training an animal to do a particular act not in the routine of
his daily life, it is of course necessary to show him clearly and
pointedly what is desired. I think that in quickness of
perception, and ability to adopt a new idea, the elephants and
the great apes are tied for first place. Both are remarkably
quick. It seems to me that it required only half a dozen lessons
to teach our Indian elephant, Gunda, to take a penny in his trunk,
lift the lid of a high-placed box, drop in the coin, then pull a
bell-cord and ring a bell. Of course the reward for the first
successful performances was lumps of sugar. Within three days this
rather interesting special exhibit was working smoothly, and
coining money. As a means of working off on the poor animal great
numbers of foreign copper coins, and spurious issues of all kinds,
it was a great boon to the foreign population of New York. Our
erratic elephant Alice was quickly trained by Keeper Richards to
blow a mouth organ, to ring a telephone by turning the crank, and
to take off the receiver and hold it up to her ear for an
imaginary call.
Another keeper, with no previous experience as a trainer, taught a
male orang-utan called Rajah to go through a series of
performances that are elsewhere described.
Bright and Dull Individuals. Every wild animal species contains
the same range of bright and dull individuals that are found in
the various races of men. Naturally the animal trainer selects for
training only those animals that are of amiable disposition, that
mentally are alert, responsive and possessed of good memories. The
worst mistakes they make are in taking on and forcing ill-natured
and irritable animals, that hate training and performing. Often a
trainer persists in retaining an animal that resolutely should be
thrown out. Captain Bonavita lost his arm solely because of his
fatal persistence in retaining in his group of lions an animal
that hated him, and which the trainer well knew was dangerous.
While nearly every wild animal can be taught a few simple tricks,
the dull mind soon reaches its constitutional limit. Even among
the great apes, conditions are quite the same. One half the orang-
utans are of the thin-headed, pin-headed type that is hopeless for
stage training. The good ones are the stocky, round-headed, round-
faced individuals who have the cephalic index of the statesman or
jurist, and a broad and well-rounded dome of thought.
Training for the Ring and the Stage. During his long and
successful career as a purveyor of wild animals for all purposes,
Carl Hagenbeck had great success in the production of large
animal groups trained for stage performances. I came in close
touch with his methods and their results. His methods were very
simple, and they were founded on kindness and common sense. Mr.
Hagenbeck hated whips and punishments. When an animal could not
get on without them, it was dropped from the cast. His working
theory was that an unwilling animal makes a bad actor.
There is no mystery about the best methods in training animals,
wild or domestic. The first thing is to assemble a suitable number
of _young_ animals, all of which are mentally bright and
physically sound. Most adult animals are impracticable, and often
impossible, because they are set in their ways. The elephants are
monumental exceptions. A large, well-lighted and sunny room is
provided; and around it are the individual cages for the student
animals. The members of the company are fed wisely and well, kept
scrupulously clean, and in all ways made comfortable and
contented. When not at their work they are allowed to romp and
play together until they are tired of the exercise.
The trainer who has been selected to create a specified group
spends practically his entire time with his pupils. He feeds them,
and mixes with them daily and hourly. From the beginning he
teaches them that _they must obey him, and not fight._
The work of training begins with simple things, and goes on
to the complex; and each day the same routine is carried out.
To each animal is assigned a certain place in the circle, with
a certain tub or platform on which to sit at ease when not
acting in the ring. It is exceedingly droll to see a dozen cub
lions, tigers, bears and cheetahs sitting decorously on their
respective tubs and gravely watching the thirteenth cub who
is being labored with by the keeper to bring its ideas and acts
into line. The stage properties are many; and they all assist in
helping the actors to remember the sequence of their acts, as well
as the things to be done. The key that controls the mind of a good
animal is the reward idea. Many a really bad animal goes through
its share of the performance solely to secure the bit of meat, the
lump of sugar or the prized biscuit that never fails to show up at
the proper moment.
[Illustration with caption: WORK ELEPHANT DRAGGING A HEWN TIMBER
The most primitive form of elephant harness. The end of the drag
rope is held between the teeth of the wise and patient animal
(From A. G. R. Theobald, Mysore)]
The acts to be performed are gone over in the training quarters,
innumerable times; and this continues so long that by the time the
"group" is ready for the stage, behold! the cubs with which the
patient and tireless trainer began have grown so large that to the
audience they now seem like adult and savage animals. Those who
scoff at the wild animal mind, and say that all this displays
nothing but "machines in fur" need to be reminded that this very
same line of effort in training and rehearsal is absolutely
necessary in the production of every military company, every
ballet, and every mass performance on the stage. There is
_no_ successful performance without training. Boys and girls
require the very same sort of handling that the wild animals
receive, but the humans do with a little less of it.
The man who flouts a good stage performance by wild animals on the
ground that it reveals "no thought," and is only "imitation," is,
in my judgment, a very short-sighted student. Maniacs and
imbeciles cannot be trained to perform any program fit to be seen.
I saw that tried fifty years ago, in "the wild Australian
children," who were idiots. _The performer must think, and
reason._
Of the many groups of trained animals that I have seen in
performances, my mind goes back first to the one which contained
a genuine bear comedian, of the Charlie Chaplin type. It was a
Himalayan black bear, with fine side whiskers, and it really
seemed to me absolutely certain that the other animals in the
group appreciated and enjoyed the fun that comedian made. He
pretended to be awkward, and frequently fell off his tub. He was
purposely dilatory, and was often the last one to finish. The
other animals seemed to be fascinated by his mishaps, and they sat
on their tubs and watched him with what looked like genuine
amusement. I remember another circle of seated animals who calmly
and patiently sat and watched while the trainer labored with a
cross and refractory leopard, to overcome its stubbornness, and to
make it do its part.
Carl Hagenbeck loved to produce mixed groups of dangerous
animals,--lions, tigers, leopards, bears and wolves. One trainer
whom I knew was assisted in a highly dangerous group by a noble
stag-hound who habitually kept close to his master, and was said
to be ready to attack instantly any animal that might attack the
trainer. I never saw a finer bodyguard than that dog.
In 1908 the most astounding animal group ever turned out of the
Hagenbeck establishment, or shown on any stage, appeared in
London. It consisted of _75 full-grown polar bears!_ Now,
polar bears, either for the cage or the stage, are bad citizens.
Instinctively I always suspect their mental reservations, and for
twenty-one years have carefully kept our keepers out of their
reach. But Mr. William Hagenbeck, brother of the great Carl,
actually trained and performed with a huge _herd_ of
dangerous polars to the number stated.
In the _Strand_ magazine for April, 1908, there is a fine
article by Arthur Harold about this group and its production. It
says that the bears were obtained when seven or eight months old,
in large lots, and all thrown in together. It took a keeper
between seven and eight months to educate them out of their savage
state,--by contact, kindness, sugar and fruit,--and then they were
turned over to the trainer, Mr. Hagenbeck. They were taught to
form pyramids, climb ladders, shoot the chutes, ride in pony
carriages, draw and ride in sleds, drink from bottles, and work a
see-saw. Various individuals did individual tricks. The star
performer was Monk, the wrestling bear, who went with his trainer
through a fearsome wrestling performance.
Concerning the temperament of that polar bear group Mr. William
Hagenbeck said:
"Although I know every animal in the company, have taught each one
to recognize me, and have been among many of them for _fifteen
years,_ I can not now tell by their expressions the moods of
the animals. This is one of the characteristics of the polar bear.
Their expression remains the same, and it is impossible to detect
by watching their faces whether they are pleased or cross. Now in
most wild animals, such as the lion, you can tell by the
expression of the beast's face and by its actions whether it is in
a good temper or not.... The truth is, the polar bear is a most
awkward beast to train. In the first place its character is
difficult to understand. He is by nature very suspicious, and
without the least warning is apt to turn upon his trainer. Among
the seventy bears that have been taught to do tricks, _only
two_ of them are really fond of their work."
In the end, Mr. William Hagenbeck was very nearly killed by one of
these polar bears. I was with Carl Hagenbeck a few hours after he
received telegraphic news of the tragedy, and his bitterness
against those polar bears was boundless. I understood that Monk,
the wrestling bear, was the assailant,--which was small cause for
wonder. When I saw Mr. Hagenbeck's polar bear show, it gave me
shivers of fear. The first two big male polars that we installed
at our Park came from that very group, and one of them led us into
a dreadful tragedy, with a female bear as the victim.
The So-Called "Trick" Performances. Some psychologists make light
of what they call "trick performances," in which the performing
animals are guided by signs, or signals, or spoken commands from
their trainers. I have never been able to account for this. It is
incontestably true that dull and stupid animals can learn little,
and perform less. For example, all the training in the world could
not suffice to put a pig through a performance that a chimpanzee
or orang could master in two weeks. The reason is that the pig has
not the brain power that is indispensable. A woodchuck never could
become the mental equal of a wood rat (_Neotoma_). A sheep
could not hope to rival a horse, either in training or in
execution.
Really, _the brain, the memory and reason must enter into every
animal performance that amounts to anything worth while._ It is
just as sensible to flout soldiers on the drill-ground as to wave
aside as of no account a troup of trained lions or sea-lions on
the stage. Any animal that can be taught to perform difficult
feats, and that delivers the goods in the blinding glare and riot
of the circus ring or the stage footlights, is entitled to my
profound respect for its powers of mind and nerve.
The Sea-Lion's Repertoire. Long ago trainers recognized in the
California sea-lion (_Zalophus_) a good subject for the ring
and stage. Its long, supple neck, its lithe body and brilliant
nervous energy seemed good for difficult acts. The sea-lion takes
very kindly to training, and really delights in its performances.
In fact, it enters into its performance with a keen vigor and zest
that is pleasing to behold. Let this veracious record of a
performance of Treat's five sea-lions and two harbor seals, that I
witnessed October 15, 1910, tell the whole story, in order that
the reader may judge for himself:
1. Each sea-lion balanced upright on its nose a wooden staff 3
feet long, with a round knob on its upper end.
2. Each sea-lion caught in its mouth a three-foot stick with a
ball on each end, tossed it up, whirled it in the air, and caught
it again. This was repeated, without a miss.
3. Each sea-lion balanced on the tip of its nose, first a ball
like a baseball, then a large ball two feet in diameter.
4. Each sea-lion climbed a double ladder of eight steps, and went
down on the other side, _balancing a large ball on the end of
its nose, without a miss._
5. The trainer handed a ball to the sea-lion nearest him, who
balanced it on his nose, walked with it to his box and climbed up.
6. Then another sea-lion walked over to him, and waited
expectantly until sea-lion No. 1 tossed the ball to No. 2, who
caught it on his nose, walked over to his box, climbed up, and
presently tossed it to No. 3.
7. A silk hat was balanced on its rim.
8. A seal carrying a balanced ball scrambled upon a cylindrical
basket and rolled it across the arena, after which other seals
repeated the performance.
9. In the last act a flaming torch was balanced, tossed about,
caught and whirled, and finally returned to the trainer, still
blazing.
Trained Horses. By carefully selecting the brightest and most
intelligent horses that can be found, it is possible for a trainer
to bring together and educate a group that will go through a fine
performance in public. However, some exhibitions of trained
horses are halting, ragged and poor. I have seen only one that
stands out in my records as superlatively fine,--for horses. That
was known to the public when I saw it as Bartholomew's "Equine
Paradox," and it contained twelve wonderfully trained horses. My
record of this fine performance fills seven pages of a good-sized
notebook. While it is too long to reproduce here entire, it can at
least be briefly described. The trainer called his group a
"school," and of it he said:
"While I do not say that any one horse knows the meaning of from
300 to 400 words, I claim that _as a whole_ the school does
know that number."
The performance was fairly bewildering; but by diligent work I
recorded the whole of it. Various horses did various things. They
fetched chairs, papers, hats and coats; opened desks, rang bells,
came when called, bowed, knelt, and erased figures from a
blackboard. They danced a waltz, a clog dance, a figure-8; they
marched, halted, paced, trotted, galloped, backed, jumped, leaped
over each other, performed with a barrel, a see-saw and a double
see-saw. Their marching and drilling would have been creditable to
a platoon of rookies.
In performing, every horse is handicapped by his lack of hands and
plant grade feet; and the horse memory is not very sure or
certain. More than any other animal, the horse depends upon the
trainer's command, and in poor performances the command often
requires to be repeated, two or three times, or more. The memory
of the horse is not nearly so quick nor so certain as that of the
chimpanzee or elephant.
Dr. Martin J. Potter, of New York, famous trainer of stage and
movie animals, states that of all animals, wild or domestic, the
horse is the most intelligent; but I doubt whether he ever trained
any chimpanzees. Speaking from out of the abundance of his
training experience with many species of animals except the great
apes, Dr. Potter says that "the seal [i. e. California sea-lion]
learns its stage cues more easily than any other mute performer.
The horse, however, is the most intelligent of all animals in its
grasp and understanding of the work it has learned to perform, and
in its reliable faithfulness and memory." Dr. Potter holds that
of wild animals the tiger, owing to its treachery and ferocity, is
the most difficult wild animal to train; the lion is the most
reliable, and the most stupid of all animals is the pig.
The Taming of Boma. A keeper for a short time in our place, named
D'Osta, once did a very neat piece of work in taming a savage and
intractable chimpanzee. When Boma came to us, fresh from the
French Congo, he was savage and afraid. He retreated to the
highest resting-place of his cage, came down only at night for his
meals, and would make no compromise. We believed that he had been
fearfully abused by his former owners, and through mistreatment
had acquired both fear and hatred of all men.
After the lapse of several months with Boma on that basis, the
situation grew tiresome and intolerable. So D'Osta said:
"I must tame that animal, and teach him not to be afraid of us."
He introduced a roomy shifting cage into Boma's compartment,
fixed the drop door, and for many days served Boma's food and
water in that cage only. For two weeks the ape eluded capture, but
eventually the keeper caught him. At first Boma's rage and fear
were boundless; but presently the idea dawned upon his mind that
he was not to be killed immediately. D'Osta handed him excellent
food and water, twice a day, spoke to him soothingly, and
otherwise let him alone. Slowly Boma's manner changed. He learned
that he was not to be hurt, nor even annoyed. Confidence in the
men about him began to come to him. His first signs of
friendliness were promptly met and cultivated.
At the end of ten days, D'Osta opened the sliding door, and Boma
walked out, a wiser and better ape. His bad temper and his fears
were gone. He trusted his keeper, and cheerfully obeyed him.
Strangest of all, he even suffered D'Osta to put a collar upon
him, and chain him to the front bars to curb his too great
playfulness while his cage was being cleaned.
Boma's fear of man has never returned. Now, although he is big and
dangerous, he is a perfectly normal ape.
The Training of an Over-Age Bear. A bear-trainer-athlete and
"bear-wrestler" named Jacob Glass once taught me a lesson that
astounded me. It related to the training of a bear that I thought
was too old to be trained.
We had an Alaskan cinnamon bear, three years old, that had been
christened "Christian," at Skagway, because it stood so much
pestering without flying into rages, as the grizzly did. After a
short time with us, the concrete floors of our bear dens reacted
upon the soles of its feet so strangely and so seriously that we
were forced to transfer the animal to a temporary cage that had a
wooden floor. While I was wondering what to do with that bear,
along came Mr. Glass, anxious and unhappy.
"My wrestling bear has died on me," he said, "and I've got to get
another. You have got one that I would like to buy from you. It's
the one you call Christian."
Very kindly I said, "That is a mighty fine bear, as to temper; but
now he is entirely too old to train, and you couldn't do anything
with him. He would be a loss to you."
"I've looked him over, and I like his looks. I think I can train
him all right. You let me have him, and I'll make a fine performer
of him."
"I know that you never can do it; but you may try him, and send
him back when you fail."
Thus ended the first lesson; and I was sure that in a month Mr.
Glass would beg me to take back the untrainable animal.
About one year later Glass appeared again, jubilant. At once he
broke forth into eulogies of Christian; but one chapter would not
be large enough to contain them. He had trained that bear, with
outrageous ease and celerity, and hadimmediately taken him upon
the stage as a professional jiu-jitsu wrestler. And really, the
act was admirable. As a wrestler, the bear seemed almost as
intelligent as the man. He knew the "left-hand half-nelson" as well
as Glass, and he knew the following words, perfectly: "Right,
left, half-nelson, strangle, head up, nose under arm, and
hammer-lock."
[Illustration with caption: THE WRESTLING BEAR "CHRISTIAN" AND HIS
PARTNER]
Glass declared that this bear was more intelligent than any lion,
or any other trained animal ever seen by him. He was wise in many
ways besides wrestling,--in his friendship with Glass, with other
bears, with other men, and with a dog. _He obeyed all orders
willingly,_ even permitting Glass to take his food away when he
was eating; but he would not stand being punished with a whip or
a stick! In response to that he would bite. However, he generously
permitted himself to be _held down and choked, as a
punishment,_ after which he would be very repentant, and would
insist upon getting into his partner's lap,--to show his good
will.
Glass was enthusiastically certain that Christian could reason
independently from cause to effect. He declared that his alertness
of mind was so pronounced it was very rarely necessary to show him
a second time how to do a given thing.
Training an Adult Savage Monkey. Once we had a number of Japanese
red-faced monkeys, and one of the surplus adult males had a temper
as red as his face. Mr. Wormwood, an exhibitor of performing
monkeys, wished to buy that animal; but I declined to sell it, on
the ground that it would be impossible to train it.
At that implied challenge the trainer perked up and insisted upon
having that particular bad animal; so we yielded. He wished him
for the special business of turning somersaults, because he had no
tail to interfere with that performance.
Two months later Mr. Wormwood appeared again. "Yes," he said, but
not boastfully, "_I trained him;_ but I came mighty near to
giving him up as a bad job. He was the hardest subject I ever
tackled; but I conquered him at last, and now he is working all
right."
A really great number of different kinds of animals have been
trained for stage performances, running the scale all the way up
from fleas to elephants. It is easy to recall mice, rats, rabbits,
squirrels, parrots, macaws, cockatoos, crows, chickens, geese,
cats, pigs, dogs, monkeys, baboons, apes, bears, seals, sea-lions,
walruses, kangaroos, horses, hippopotami and elephants. It is a
large subject, and its many details are full of interest. It is
impossible to discuss here all these species and breeds.
In concluding these notes I leave off as I began,--with the
statement that any student of animal psychology who for any reason
whatever ignores or undervalues the intelligence of trained
animals puts a handicap upon himself.
III. THE HIGHER PASSIONS
XVIII
THE MORALS OF WILD ANIMALS
The ethics and morals of men and animals are thoroughly
comparative, and it is only by direct comparisons that they can be
analyzed and classified. It is quite possible that there are quite
a number of intelligent men and women who are not yet aware of the
fact that wild animals _have_ moral codes, and that on an
average they live up to them better than men do to theirs.
It is a painful operation to expose the grinning skeletons in the
closets of the human family, but in no other way is it possible
to hold a mirror up to nature. With all our brightness and all our
talents,--real and imitation,--few men ever stop to ask what our
horses, dogs and cats think of our follies and our wickedness.
By the end of the year 1921 the annual total of human wickedness
had reached staggering proportions. From August 1914 to November
1918 the moral standing of the human race reached the lowest depth
it ever sounded since the days of the cave-dwellers. This we know
to be true, because of the increase in man's capacity for
wickedness, and its crop of results. After what we recently have
seen in Europe and Asia, and on the high seas, let no man speak of
a monster in human form as "a brute;" for so far as moral standing
is concerned, some of the animals allegedly "below man" now are in
a position to look down upon him.