Marne, not only to the military authorities, but also to the public at
large, will cause the civilised world to pay more attention to the
importance of these birds in the future. They carried all kinds of
messages to and from Paris during this memorable battle; in fact, they
have been used in all the battles as invaluable messengers.
Small animals, such as mice, canary birds, guinea pigs and rabbits are
used in trench warfare, because they are more sensitive than man to
poisonous gases. It sometimes happens that hundreds of men must be
rescued from a trench by three or four men. Each rescuer carries with
him a canary bird in a small cage attached to his shoulder. And as long
as these birds show no signs of distress the men are safe from gas
poison. The birds soon become attached to their masters and seem to like
the adventure of the trenches.
As time goes on, it is to be hoped that we will understand our animal
brothers better, and that our old attitude toward the so-called "brutes"
will be entirely changed. Heretofore we have greatly abused the zebra,
for example, because of his wild disposition, ferocious humour, distrust
of all power except that in his own legs, and his pronounced aversion to
work.
Why should we reproach him for his wildwood philosophy? It is perfectly
natural that any animal of his experience with man, and with sufficient
brains, would have only contempt for all mankind. His native home is in
Africa, and his human associates, if they are human, have been the
Hottentots, the Namaquois or the Amazoulons--the most impossible and
hideous people on the earth. Since his babyhood days he has seen nothing
but cannibalism and carnage among the savages; and since his
transportation to Europe by a strange occurrence of horrible
circumstances, he has been the subject for all kinds of barbarous
punishments which man has seen well to heap upon him. The zebra is not
of the mental calibre to be suddenly seized with love for the human
species and its civilisations! And the human species is astounded and
thinks the zebra stupid and wicked. He may be both, but his wisdom is
undeniable when it comes to trusting humanity, and his wickedness is
small in comparison to man's terrible cruelties. He should be awarded a
medal for wisdom! For man is far the greater ass of the two!
He roams the wild prairies where the fields need no ploughing. There he
finds an abundance of grass and fresh water along the streams. No loud
cursing and swearing ever greets his ears, nothing but the sweet song of
the wild birds. And his children romp and play with him, free as the
winds that blow. Of course, he has enemies even there, and so he uses
camouflage by painting himself in attractive stripes, so no one can see
him at a distance. Even Solomon should have praised his wisdom!
In the beginning God created man, and not long after gave him as his
policeman, the dog. And the obedience, friendship and devotion of the
dog to his master has been unending. The dog discusses no questions of
right or wrong, his only duty is to obey. This he does without a murmur.
He is the greatest testimony to man's civilisation, the first and the
greatest element of human progress. Through his co-operation man was
elevated from the savage to the state of the civilised. He made the
herd possible. Without him there could have been no herd, no assured
subsistence of food and clothing, no time to study and improve the mind,
no astronomical observations, no science, no arts, no automobiles, no
airships, no wireless telegraphy--nothing. The East is the home of
civilisation, because the East is the home of the dog.
A young hound knows more about tracking game or scenting the enemy after
six months' practice than the most skilled savage after fifty years of
study. The dog has so aided mankind as to give him more time for study
and self-improvement. Thus began the arts and sciences. An interesting,
and we believe original observation, of the influence of the dog on
peoples is that wherever the dog is found, especially among the shepherd
peoples, such as the Chaldeans, Egyptians, Arabs, Tartars, and Mongols,
cannibalism is unknown. This is due to the fact that the dog enables
them to maintain the herds which supply them with milk, food, and
clothing, thus preserving them from the criminal temptation of hunger.
The Indians of North America never refrained from roasting their enemies
until they made allies of the horse and dog. Humboldt proves the lively
regret held by one of the last surviving chief lieutenants of the
war-like Tecumseh whom he asked about a certain American officer who
took part in the fight. "Uh!" replied the Indian, "I eat some of him."
"Do you still eat your enemies?" asked Humboldt. "No," replied the
Indian. "Big dog catch heap meat for me!"
Surely no animal could be more uncivilised or cannibalistic in its
desires than man! Spinoza believed, however, that benevolence in animals
consisted only in their kindliness and friendly feeling for each other
and that we should expect nothing more of them. A good cow, so he
thought, was one that was kind to her calf, however ferocious she might
be toward human children. But we do not accept this standard of
goodness, nor believe that animals' kindness extends only to their own
tribes. Their lowest standard of life is no worse than the cannibalism
existing among the lower tribes of uncivilised man, which is one of the
highest ideals of tribal life. The greatest hero among our savages is
the one that can put the most enemies to death.
Many animals seem to have a social instinct and a moral sentiment toward
man. They try to break the old bonds of distrust between their master
and themselves. This is especially true of the puma, second to the
largest of the big cats of the Americas, which seems to love the society
of man, and seeks not only to be near him, but to protect him from the
attacks of the much-dreaded jaguar. A civil engineer tells the story of
an experience he had while journeying up one of the big South American
rivers by boat. At their nightly encampments one of the passengers on
board was an old miner who insisted on sleeping in a hammock suspended
between two small trees. His weight was sufficient to bring the hammock
almost to the ground at its lowest curve. One morning, his friends
inquired how he had slept, and he complained that "the frogs and small
animals had made so much noise under the hammock that he could not
sleep." One of the Indian servants roared with laughter, as he said,
"Uh, 'tiger' sleep with old man last night. He watch him!"--tiger being
the Indian term for the puma. Careful searching revealed the footprints
of an immense puma, and that he had evidently lain directly under the
hammock. The noise which had kept the old man from sleeping was the
purring of the animal, pleased over the privilege of sleeping so near a
man. These Guiana Indians know the ways of the forests, and have a
special liking for wild animals. This entire absence of fear in the puma
is the same as exhibited by the tame house cat.
Many animals seem fond of human companionship, and are easily tamed. My
sister raised a small red deer in Texas, and he became so perfectly
tame that he would follow her wherever she went, and would even take
food from her hand. In Yellowstone Park the deer are so tame they will
come into the yards to get food, while the brown bears approach the
hotels like tramps, and many of the smaller animals are perfectly
fearless. At the Bronx Zoological Gardens, and the London Zoo, the
animals have lost all fear. They seem to realise that they have no power
to escape and depend entirely upon man for their daily food. But, of
course, their conditions are artificial, hence such conclusions as we
may draw as to their normal attitude toward man do not necessarily
indicate the innate character of their wild kinsmen. We occasionally
find, for instance, that in unsettled regions like parts of Mexico and
South America, where animals are plentiful and man's influence largely
absent, they are found to be particularly ferocious, yet even then lions
and leopards rarely attack men unless disturbed in some unusual way.
Quite a few naturalists and scientists believe that the animals' love
for man was acquired and not natural. But if this be true, how did the
very early tribes of men escape destruction at the hands of the wild
beasts which were far more numerous than at present? The animal kingdom
was evidently impressed by the power of man at a very early stage of
its development, but in just what manner or what period of time this
came to pass is not known.
If we regard the conflict as merely between two great groups of animals,
surely the animals should have won, and man would have disappeared from
the face of the earth. The fact that he did not, and that he became
master of the animals, is presumptive evidence that man exceeded the
animals in intelligence.
Primitive man could have lived in no other way than by "his wits." For
he was not nearly so well equipped for defence as are the monkeys of
to-day. Their greatest power is in the ability to use their arms and
hands in swinging rapidly from branch to branch. This gives them an
advantage over all tree-climbing cats. They are very proficient in
throwing stones and other missiles. This is dumbfounding to other
animals. Of course, their intelligent and quick-witted methods of
defence, menace, guard-duty, and loyalty to tribe makes them great
warriors, and enables them to survive even the onslaughts of their
greatest enemy and nightmare of every non-carnivorous animal--the harpy
eagle!
Through the necessary adjustments growing out of the close relationships
of men to animals, the mental faculties of both have been greatly
stimulated and advanced. The least developed races seem to be in such
places as Tierra del Fuego, where there are no savage animals, and,
therefore, no inducement for man to arm and defend himself. The Pygmies
of Central Africa are mighty hunters, otherwise they could not survive.
Even the Esquimaux are masters of the great polar bears and other
northern animals.
In the wilds of Africa, where animals have had a terrible struggle for
existence, not only against disagreeable climatic conditions, but all
kinds of fellow-foes as well, we find the nkengos have attained a
civilisation that almost equals that of our savage brothers. And these
pale-faced little beings, with their wrinkled, care-worn, parchment-like
skins, remind one of ill-treated, white, human-dwarfs. Their name,
nkengo, means wild animal-men, and when tamed they actually make
excellent family servants for men.
These closest allies of man live in tall bamboo trees, and are so
curiously human that when seen walking around hunting berries, nuts, and
fruits, talking in guttural, chattering tones, like old fisher-women, no
one could doubt even their kinship to man.
Their children assemble in groups to romp and play under the
guardianship of either one of their mothers or grandmothers; while the
men forage for food, and watch for enemies. It is not uncommon to see
an aged, half-decrepit nkengo lying on a bed of sticks in a tall tree.
Here he eats only green leaves and bits of fruit brought him by some
kind friend, being far too weak to hunt for food himself, and
furthermore, fearing an attack from his mortal enemy, the leopard.
If the colony decides to move to other territory, either because of
enemies or the scarcity of food, they all assemble and hold a farewell
gathering in which there is much mourning and apparent grief at forever
leaving their aged kin to the fate of the wilds. If they are possibly
able to walk, they are given patient assistance in travelling along.
Sometimes, when they are deserted, sympathetic friends return for days
with berries and koola nuts, until at last the colony has gone so far
away that none dare return alone, in which event these helpless
superannuated members are left to die in their lone tree-top beds.
Many of these beds are as well made as the tree-beds of human beings,
and even better than the beds of the savage Dyaks of Borneo. They are
usually located in tall trees, inaccessible to leopards and out of reach
of their most dreaded of all enemies, the terrible hordes of war-ants.
From these nothing escapes--not even elephants and tigers.
The arrival of a baby to these nkengos is of far more importance in
their tree-top village, than in a human city. Each of the female
relatives, and also the aged males, takes special interest in the
new-comer, and they chatter around his little grape-vine cradle with
much enthusiasm, shaking their heads and delicately handling his tiny
hands and toes as though he were the baby of a king.
This baby is much stronger and quicker to learn than human babies; for
when he is only two days old he is able to cling to his mother, so that
she can carry him with her on her hunting trips. If he becomes too noisy
from sheer delight when she is travelling through the forest with him,
she slaps him, in an attempt to quiet him, lest the leopards get him.
At night he sleeps snugly by his mother's side in the great tree-bed,
and she never allows him to crawl out of her arms for fear that he fall
to the depths below. She loves him dearly, and watches with human
eagerness for his first tooth. He loves his mother and will stand for
hours while she dresses his hair; or lie on her breast as she rubs his
little back.
These wild-children are always ill-tempered and self-willed. No human
mother has to show more patience and love than does the nkengo mother.
She takes the greatest delight in his first efforts at climbing and
hunting, and for hours she and his admiring relatives will watch him
attempting to climb a cocoanut tree. Sometimes she will climb just
behind him to catch him if he falls or becomes frightened.
His arms soon become very powerful, for he is constantly swinging,
climbing, and exercising by hanging from a bough with one hand while he
pulls himself up with the great power of his muscles. He is able to
gather koola nuts long before his jaws are strong enough to crack them;
so his fond mother cracks them for him until his hands and mouth are
stronger. Like all babies, his ambition is to be big and strong like his
father.
Some of the apes are most intelligent and human, and, as allies to man,
are more desirable than certain of the human savages. Dr. Livingstone,
in his _Last Journals_, describes one he first discovered. "Their
teeth," he says, "are slightly human, but their canines show the beast
by their large development. The hands, or rather the fingers, are like
those of the natives. They live in communities consisting of about a
dozen individuals, and are strictly monogamous in their conjugal
relations, and vegetarian, or rather frugivorous, in their diet, their
favourite food being bananas." The natives where these apes live are
cannibals, and Dr. Livingstone says, "they are the lowest of the low."
One of their number, who had committed a great murder, offered his
grandmother "to be killed in expiation of his offence, and this
vicarious punishment was accepted as satisfactory."
Thus it is evident that certain of these wild-creatures--like the
sokos--have a more correct conception of justice than their human
associates, the savages. At least the animals do not make the innocent
suffer for the guilty, and give their lives unjustly. Should a soko try
to take another's wife he is publicly punished by the tribe. These
animals have a great sense of humour and fully enjoy a practical joke.
Strangely enough, they never attack women and children, but if any man
approaches them with a spear or gun, they try to rush upon him, often at
the expense of their own life, and wrest the weapon from him. Most of
them are exceedingly kind and civilised in their actions, and natives
always say, "Soko is a man, and nothing bad in him."
Often they kidnap babies and carry them up into trees. But these are
never harmed and the apes are ever ready to exchange them for bananas.
The robbery is, no doubt, for the purpose of extortion. If perchance one
of their children is stolen, the entire forest sets up a scream and
wail until it is returned. Old hunters and travellers say that they
would rather steal the child of a native savage than to take one of the
sokos. If one of the soko children disappears, and they do not know what
became of it, they immediately send out detectives throughout the
country to seek for it. And woe be the home where a stolen soko baby is
found!
But man has one great power--a far more potent ally than he has in his
animal friends--the use of fire. Unquestionably to the minds of animals
it is a supernatural power. They cannot create it, understand it, and it
is very doubtful if they can yet use it to advantage. How marvellous is
this thing--fire! That great blazing pillar of cloud that destroys all,
and leaves nothing to show where it has taken its enemies! To animals it
springs up wherever man rests his head, and protects him while he
sleeps. It is always with him, and its presence for untold ages has
brought terror to all of them.
Not a few reports tell us that certain of our animal allies among the
monkeyfolk of South Africa use fire. This may not be true; but it is
probable that the time is near at hand when the wild baboon-men of the
woods will learn to make and use fire just as we have done.
Enough instances could be shown illustrating animals as man's allies to
fill an entire book, but a sufficient number have been adduced to show
how truly they are our allies, helpers, and protectors just as we are
theirs, only their mode of manifesting it is different. We have shown
the absolute fallacy of the old belief that animals lack mentality, and
that all their acts of kindness are based upon self-love and personal
gain, and have seen that in proportion to their opportunities in life,
they have quite as much mentality and brotherly love for each other and
mankind as is found among our lower savages. We have seen that among
animals as among men, individuals will give their lives for their
fellows, serve the weak and timid, and demonstrate the highest and
holiest feelings of which true souls can be capable, and always share
equally with man the burdens that fall upon themselves and their human
allies. And the time is already here when man should protect his animal
friends more, and teach them through human kindness not to fear him. But
this can only be done when he is willing to treat them as fellow beings
only a little below him in the scale of existence.
CHAPTER XV
THE FUTURE LIFE OF ANIMALS
_"Ah, poor companion! when thou followedst last
Thy master's parting footsteps to the gate
Which closed forever on him, thou didst lose
Thy best friend, and none was left to plead
For the old age of brute fidelity.
But fare thee well. Mine is no narrowed creed;
And He who gave thee being did not frame
The mystery of Life to be the sport
Of merciless man. There is another world
For all that live and move--a better one!
Where the proud bipeds, who would fain confine
Of their own charity, may envy thee."_
--SOUTHEY (on the death of his dog).
The old belief is still prevalent that the Bible teaches that of all
living creatures man alone is immortal. This erroneous belief springs
out of man's egotism, however, and is not substantiated by the
Scriptures. Among many of the Old Testament writers we find that
immortality was assured for neither man nor animals; whereas, with the
larger revelation of the New Testament, immortality is no longer
questioned for any living creature.
There are, of course, many supposedly intelligent people who deny to
animals the power of reason, and attribute all their marvellous powers
and abilities to blind instinct. It is, therefore, not the least bit
surprising that the vast majority of people believe that when an animal
dies, its life principle dies also. The animating power, they believe,
is destroyed, and the body returns to the dust.
These mistaken conclusions are largely, if not wholly, due to two
passages of Scripture, one of which is in the Psalms and the other in
Ecclesiastes. The one most often quoted, from the Psalms, runs in the
authorised version: "Nevertheless, man being in honor, abideth not; he
is like the beasts that perish." This verse is frequently quoted as
decisive of the whole question. The other passage, which is found in
Ecclesiastes, reads: "Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward,
and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?"
It is upon the authority of these two passages that we are supposed to
believe that when an animal dies, its life has gone forever, departed,
expired. In this new age of thought and discovery, we do not attempt to
explain a passage of Scripture, no matter how simple it may appear to
be, without referring to the original text, that we may see if the
translator has kept the true sense of the words and adequately expressed
their significance, remembering that words often change their meaning,
and that the original use of a word may have conveyed exactly the
opposite meaning to that which we at present attach to it.
But if we accept the passage just as it stands, with the literal meaning
of the words as is usually understood, there is but one
conclusion--animals have no future life. Death ends all for them. But,
on the other hand, if we are to take the literal interpretation of the
Bible only, we are forced to believe that man, as well as the animals,
has no life after death. Surely the book of Psalms is full of examples
to support this literal interpretation. For example, "In death there is
no remembrance of thee: in the grave, who shall give thee thanks?"
Again, "The dead praise not the Lord, neither any that go down into
silence." Or, "His breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in
that very day his thoughts perish." These quotations could be greatly
added to, and if taken in their literal sense, we would reach but one
conclusion--death ends all for every living creature! Nothing in all the
literature of the earth could be more gloomy and discouraging than
these quotations with numerous others that contemplate death. Yet, vain
man takes one little passage that seemingly denies a future life to
animals from the same book that many times over denies a future life to
mankind; in fact, there are five times as many Scripture passages
claiming for man that all ends in death as there are for animals. Over
and over we are told that those who have died have no remembrance of
God, and cannot praise Him. The Bible speaks of death as the "land of
forgetfulness,"--the place of darkness, where all man's thoughts perish.
Nothing more than this could be said of the "animals that perish!"
Other Biblical writers referred to mankind as those who "dwell in houses
of clay," and Job says: "They are destroyed from morning to evening;
they perish forever, without any regarding it." In another place he
says: "As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away, so he that goeth
down to the grave shall come up no more." Again he speaks of "the land
of darkness and the shadow of death," and says: "Man dieth, and wasteth
away: yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he? As the waters fail
from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up: so man lieth down,
and riseth not." Job laments the pitiable conditions of his life, and
complains that life was ever granted to him, and that even death can
bring nothing to him except extinction.