have at least four trains always fit for service. This meant that,
counting puppies and all, there would be about the premises from twenty
to thirty dogs. However, as the lakes and rivers there swarmed with
fish, which was their only food, we kept the pack up to a state of
efficiency at but little expense. Jack and Cuffy were the only two dogs
that were allowed the full liberty of the house. They were welcome in
every room. Our doors were furnished with the ordinary thumb latches.
These latches at first bothered both dogs. All that was needed on our
part was to show them how they worked, and from that day on for years
they both entered the rooms as they desired without any trouble, if
the doors opened from them. There was a decided difference, however,
in opening a door if it opened toward them. Cuffy was never able to
do it. With Jack it was about as easily done as it was by the Indian
servant girl. Quickly and deftly would he shove up the exposed latch
and the curved part of the thumb piece and draw it toward him. If the
door did not easily open, the claws in the other fore paw speedily
and cleverly did the work. The favorite resting place of these two
magnificent dogs was on some fur rugs on my study floor. Several times
have we witnessed the following action in Cuffy, who was of a much more
restless temperament than Jack: When she wanted to leave the study she
would invariably first go to the door and try it. If it were in the
slightest degree ajar she could easily draw it toward her and thus
open it. If, on the contrary, it were latched, she would at once march
over to Jack, and, taking him by an ear with her teeth, would lead him
over to the door, which he at once opened for her. If reason is that
power by which we "are enabled to combine means for the attainment of
particular ends," I fail to understand the meaning of words if it were
not displayed in these instances.
Both Jack and Cuffy were, as is characteristic of such dogs, very fond
of the water, and in our short, brilliant summers would frequently
disport themselves in the beautiful little lake, the shores of which
were close to our home. Cuffy, as a Newfoundland dog, generally
preferred to continue her sports in the waves some time after Jack had
finished his bath. As they were inseparable companions, Jack was too
loyal to retire to the house until Cuffy was ready to accompany him.
As she was sometimes whimsical and dilatory, she seemed frequently to
try his patience. It was, however, always interesting to observe his
deference to her. To understand thoroughly what we are going to relate
in proof of our argument it is necessary to state that the rocky shore
in front of our home was at this particular place like a wedge, the
thickest part in front, rising up about a dozen feet or so abruptly
from the water. Then to the east the shore gradually sloped down into
a little sandy cove. When Jack had finished his bath he always swam
to this sandy beach, and at once, as he shook his great body, came
gamboling along the rocks, joyously barking to his companion still in
the waters. When Cuffy had finished her watery sports, if Jack were
still on the rocks, instead of swimming to the sandy cove and there
landing she would start directly for the place where Jack was awaiting
her. If it were at a spot where she could not alone struggle up, Jack,
firmly bracing himself, would reach down to her and then, catching hold
of the back of her neck, would help her up the slippery rocks. If it
were at a spot where he could not possibly reach her, he would, after
several attempts, all the time furiously barking as though expressing
his anxiety and solicitude, rush off to a spot where some old oars,
paddles, and sticks of various kinds were piled. There he searched
until he secured one that suited his purpose. With this in his mouth,
he hurried back to the spot where Cuffy was still in the water at the
base of the steep rocks. Here he would work the stick around until he
was able to let one end down within reach of his exacting companion in
the water. Seizing it in her teeth and with the powerful Jack pulling
at the other end she was soon able to work her way up the rough but
almost perpendicular rocks. This prompt action, often repeated on
the part of Jack, looked very much like "the specious appearance of
reasoning." It was a remarkable coincidence that if Jack were called
away, Cuffy at once swam to the sandy beach and there came ashore.
Jack never had any special love for the Indians, although we were then
living among them. He was, however, too well instructed ever to injure
or even growl at any of them. The changing of Indian servant girls in
the kitchen was always a matter of perplexity to him. He was suspicious
of these strange Indians coming in and so familiarly handling the
various utensils of their work. Not daring to injure them, it was
amusing to watch him in his various schemes to tease them. If one of
them seemed especially anxious to keep the doors shut, Jack took the
greatest delight in frequently opening them. This he took care only
to do when no member of the family was around. These tricks he would
continue to do until formal complaints were lodged against him. One
good scolding was sufficient to deter him from thus teasing that girl,
but he would soon begin to try it with others.
One summer we had a fat, good-natured servant girl whom we called
Mary. Soon after she was installed in her place Jack began, as usual,
to try to annoy her, but found it to be a more difficult job than it
had been with some of her predecessors. She treated him with complete
indifference, and was not in the least afraid of him, big as he was.
This seemed to very much humiliate him, as most of the other girls had
so stood in awe of the gigantic fellow that they had about given way to
him in everything. Mary, however, did nothing of the kind. She would
shout, "Get out of my way!" as quickly to "his mightiness" as she would
to the smallest dog on the place. This very much offended Jack, but he
had been so well trained, even regarding the servants, that he dare not
retaliate even with a growl. Mary, however, had one weakness, and after
a time Jack found it out. Her mistress observing that this girl, who
had been transferred from a floorless wigwam into a civilized kitchen,
was at first careless about keeping the floor as clean as it should be,
had, by the promise of some desired gift in addition to her wages, so
fired her zeal that it seemed as though every hour that could be saved
from her other necessary duties was spent in scrubbing that kitchen
floor. Mary was never difficult to find, as was often the case with
other Indian girls; if missed from other duties, she was always found
scrubbing her kitchen.
In some way or other--how we do not profess to know--Jack discovered
this, which had become to us a source of amusement, and here he
succeeded in annoying her, where in many other ways which he had tried
he had only been humiliated and disgraced. He would, when the floor
had just been scrubbed, march in and walk over it with his feet made
as dirty as tramping in the worst places outside could make them. At
other times he would plunge into the lake, and instead of, as usual,
thoroughly shaking himself dry on the rocks, would wait until he had
marched in upon Mary's spotless floor. At other times, when Jack
noticed that Mary was about to begin scrubbing her floor he would
deliberately stretch himself out in a prominent place on it, and
doggedly resist, yet without any growling or biting, any attempt on her
part to get him to move. In vain would she coax or scold or threaten.
Once or twice, by some clever stratagem, such as pretending to feed
the other dogs outside or getting them excited and furiously barking,
as though a bear or some other animal were being attacked, did she
succeed in getting him out. But soon he found her out, and then he paid
not the slightest attention to any of these things. Once when she had
him outside she securely fastened the door to keep him out until her
scrubbing would be done. Furiously did Jack rattle at the latch, but
the door was otherwise so secured that he could not open it. Getting
discouraged in his efforts to open the door in the usual way, he went
to the woodpile and seizing a large billet in his mouth he came and so
pounded the door with it that Mary, seeing that there was great danger
of the panel being broken in, was obliged to open the door and let in
the dog. Jack proudly marched in to the kitchen with the stick of wood
in his mouth. This he carried to the wood box, and, when he had placed
it there, he coolly stretched himself out on the floor where he would
be the biggest nuisance.
Seeing Jack under such circumstances on her kitchen floor, poor Mary
could stand it no longer, and so she came marching in to my study, and
in vigorous picturesque language in her native Cree described Jack's
various tricks and schemes to annoy her and thus hinder her in her
work. She ended up by the declaration that she was sure the _meechee
munedoo_ (the devil) was in that dog. While not fully accepting the
last statement, we felt that the time had come to interfere, and
that Jack must be reproved and stopped. In doing this we utilized
Jack's love for our little ones, especially for Eddie, the little
four-year-old boy. His obedience as well as loyalty to that child was
marvelous and beautiful. The slightest wish of the lad was law to Jack.
As soon as Mary had finished her emphatic complaints, I turned to
Eddie, who with his little sister had been busily playing with some
blocks on the floor, and said:
"Eddie, go and tell that naughty Jack that he must stop teasing Mary.
Tell him his place is not in the kitchen, and that he must keep out of
it."
Eddie had listened to Mary's story, and, although he generally sturdily
defended Jack's various actions, yet here he saw that the dog was in
the wrong, and so he gallantly came to her rescue. Away with Mary he
went, while the rest of us, now much interested, followed in the rear
to see how the thing would turn out. As Eddie and Mary passed through
the dining room we remained in that room, while they went on into the
adjoining kitchen, leaving the door open, so that it was possible for
us to distinctly hear every word that was uttered. Eddie at once strode
up to the spot where Jack was stretched upon the floor. Seizing him by
one of his ears, and addressing him as with the authority of a despot,
the little lad said:
"I am ashamed of you, Jack. You naughty dog, teasing Mary like this!
So you won't let her wash her kitchen. Get up and come with me, you
naughty dog!" saying which the child tugged away at the ear of the dog.
Jack promptly obeyed, and as they came marching through the dining room
on their way to the study it was indeed wonderful to see that little
child, whose beautiful curly head was not much higher than that of the
great, powerful dog, yet so completely the master. Jack was led into
the study and over to the great wolf-robe mat where he generally slept.
As he promptly obeyed the child's command to lie down upon it, he
received from him his final orders:
"Now, Jack, you keep out of the kitchen"; and to a remarkable degree
from that time on that order was obeyed.
We have referred to the fact that Jack placed the billet of wood in the
wood box when it had served his purpose in compelling Mary to open the
door. Carrying in wood was one of his accomplishments. Living in that
cold land, where we depended entirely on wood for our fuel, we required
a large quantity of it. It was cut in the forests, sometimes several
miles from the house. During the winters it was dragged home by the
dogs. Here it was cut into the proper lengths for the stoves and piled
up in the yard. When required, it was carried into the kitchen and
piled up in a large wood box. This work was generally done by Indian
men. When none were at hand the Indian girls had to do the work, but
it was far from being enjoyed by them, especially in the bitter cold
weather. It was suggested one day that Jack could be utilized for this
work. With but little instruction and trouble he was induced to accept
of the situation, and so after that the cry, "Jack, the wood box is
empty!" would set him industriously to work at refilling it.
To us, among many other instances of dog reasoning that came under
our notice as the years rolled on, was one on the part of a large,
powerful dog we called Cæsar. It occurred in the spring of the year,
when the snow had melted on the land, and so, with the first rains, was
swelling the rivers and creeks very considerably. On the lake before us
the ice was still a great solid mass, several feet in thickness. Near
our home was a now rapid stream that, rushing down into the lake, had
cut a delta of open water in the ice at its mouth. In this open place
Papanekis, one of my Indians, had placed a gill net for the purpose of
catching fish. Living, as he did, all winter principally upon the fish
caught the previous October or November and kept frozen for several
months hung up in the open air, we were naturally pleased to get the
fresh ones out of the water in the spring. Papanekis had so arranged
his net, by fastening a couple of ropes about sixty feet long, one at
each end, that when it was securely fastened at each side of the stream
it was carried out into this open deltalike space by the force of the
current, and there hung like the capital letter U. Its upper side was
kept in position by light-wooded floats, while medium-sized stones, as
sinkers, steadied it below.
Every morning Papanekis would take a basket and, being followed by
all the dogs of the kennels, would visit his net. Placed as we have
described, he required no canoe or boat in order to overhaul it and
take from it the fish there caught. All he had to do was to seize hold
of the rope at the end fastened on the shore and draw it toward him. As
he kept pulling it in, the deep bend in it gradually straightened out
until the net was reached. His work was now to secure the fish as he
gradually drew in the net and coiled it at his feet. The width of the
opening in the water being about sixty feet, the result was that when
he had in this way overhauled his net he had about reached the end of
the rope attached to the other side. When all the fish in the net were
secured, all Papanekis had to do to reset the net was to throw some
of it out in the right position in the stream. Here the force of the
running waters acting upon it soon carried the whole net down into the
open place as far as the two ropes fastened on the shores would admit.
Papanekis, after placing the best fish in his basket for consumption
in the mission house and for his own family, divided what was left
among the eager dogs that had accompanied him. This work went on for
several days, and the supply of fish continued to increase, much to our
satisfaction.
One day Papanekis came into my study in a state of great perturbation.
He was generally such a quiet, stoical sort of an Indian that I was at
once attracted by his mental disquietude. On asking the reason why he
was so troubled, he at once blurted out, "Master, there is some strange
animal visiting our net!"
In answer to my request for particulars, he replied that for some
mornings past when he went to visit it he found, entangled in the
meshes, several heads of whitefish. Yet the net was always in its right
position in the water. On my suggesting that perhaps otters, fishers,
minks, or other fish-eating animals might have done the work, he most
emphatically declared that he knew the habits of all these and all
other animals living on fish, and it was utterly impossible for any of
them to have thus done this work. The mystery continuing for several
following mornings, Papanekis became frightened and asked me to get
some other fisherman in his place, as he was afraid longer to visit the
net. He had talked the matter over with some other Indians, and they
had come to the conclusion that either a _windegoo_ was at the bottom
of it or the _meechee munedoo_ (the devil). I laughed at his fears,
and told him I would help him to try and find out who or what it was
that was giving us this trouble. I went with him to the place, where we
carefully examined both sides of the stream for evidences of the clever
thief. There was nothing suspicious, and the only tracks visible were
those of his own and of the many dogs that followed him to be fed each
morning. About two or three hundred yards north of the spot where he
overhauled the net there rose a small abrupt hill, densely covered with
spruce and balsam trees. On visiting it we found that a person there
securely hid from observation could with care easily overlook the whole
locality.
At my suggestion, Papanekis with his axe there arranged a sort of a
nest or lookout spot. Orders were then given that he and another Indian
man should, before daybreak on the next morning, make a long detour
and cautiously reach that spot from the rear, and there carefully
conceal themselves. This they succeeded in doing, and there, in perfect
stillness, they waited for the morning. As soon as it was possible to
see anything they were on the alert. For some time they watched in
vain. They eagerly scanned every point of vision, and for a time could
observe nothing unusual.
"Hush!" said one; "see that dog!"
It was Cæsar, cautiously skulking along the trail. He would frequently
stop and sniff the air. Fortunately for the Indian watchers, the wind
was blowing toward them, and so the dog did not catch their scent. On
he came, in a quiet yet swift gait, until he reached the spot where
Papanekis stood when he pulled in the net. He gave one searching glance
in every direction, and then he set to work. Seizing the rope in his
teeth, Cæsar strongly pulled upon it, while he rapidly backed up some
distance on the trail. Then, walking on the rope to the water's edge as
it lay on the ground, to keep the pressure of the current from dragging
it in, he again took a fresh grip upon it and repeated the process.
This he did until the sixty feet of rope were hauled in, and the end
of the net was reached to which it was attached. The net he now hauled
in little by little, keeping his feet firmly on it to securely hold
it down. As he drew it up, several varieties of inferior fish, such
as suckers or mullets, pike or jackfish, were at first observed. To
them Cæsar paid no attention. He was after the delicious whitefish,
which dogs as well as human beings prefer to those of other kinds.
When he had perhaps hauled twenty feet of the net, his cleverness was
rewarded by the sight of a fine whitefish. Still holding the net with
its struggling captives securely down with his feet, he began to devour
this whitefish, which was so much more dainty than the coarser fish
generally thrown to him. Papanekis and his comrade had seen enough. The
mysterious culprit was detected in the act, and so with a "Whoop!" they
rushed down upon him. Caught in the very act, Cæsar had to submit to a
thrashing that ever after deterred him from again trying that cunning
trick.
Who can read this story, which I give exactly as it occurred, without
having to admit that here Cæsar "combined means for the attainment of
particular ends"? On the previous visits which he made to the net the
rapid current of the stream, working against the greater part of it
in the water, soon carried it back again into its place ere Papanekis
arrived later in the morning. The result was that Cæsar's cleverness
was undetected for some time, even by these most observant Indians.
Many other equally clever instances convince me, and those who with
me witnessed them, of the possession, in of course a limited degree,
of reasoning powers. Scores of my dogs never seemed to reveal them,
perhaps because no special opportunities were presented for their
exhibition. They were just ordinary dogs, trained to the work of
hauling their loads. When night came, if their feet were sore they
had dog sense enough to come to their master and, throwing themselves
on their backs, would stick up their feet and whine and howl until
the warm duffle shoes were put on. Some of the skulking ones had wit
enough, when they did not want to be caught, in the gloom of the early
morning, while the stars were still shining, if they were white, to
cuddle down, still and quiet, in the beautiful snow; while the darker
ones would slink away into the gloom of the dense balsams, where they
seemed to know that it would be difficult for them to be seen. Some of
them had wit enough when traveling up steep places with heavy loads,
where their progress was slow, to seize hold of small firm bushes in
their teeth to help them up or to keep them from slipping back. Some
of them knew how to shirk their work. Cæsar, of whom we have already
spoken, at times was one of this class. They could pretend, by their
panting and tugging at their collars, that they were dragging more
than any other dogs in the train, while at the same time they were not
pulling a pound!
Of cats I do not write. I am no lover of them, and therefore am
incompetent to write about them. This lack of love for them is, I
presume, from the fact that when a boy I was the proud owner of some
very beautiful rabbits, upon which the cats of the neighborhood used to
make disastrous raids. So great was my boyish indignation then that the
dislike to them created has in a measure continued to this day, and I
have not as yet begun to cultivate their intimate acquaintance.
But of dogs I have ever been a lover and a friend. I never saw one, not
mad, of which I was afraid, and I never saw one with which I could not
speedily make friends. Love was the constraining motive principally
used in breaking my dogs in to their work in the trains. No whip was
ever used upon Jack or Cuffy while they were learning their tasks.
Some dogs had to be punished more or less. Some stubborn dogs at once
surrendered and gave no more trouble when a favorite female dog was
harnessed up in a train and sent on ahead. This affection in the dog
for his mate was a powerful lever in the hands of his master, and,
using it as an incentive, we have seen things performed as remarkable
as any we have here recorded.
From what I have written it will be seen that I have had unusual
facilities for studying the habits and possibilities of dogs. I was
not under the necessity of gathering up a lot of mongrels at random
in the streets, and then, in order to see instances of their sagacity
and the exercise of their highest reasoning powers, to keep them until
they were "practically utterly hungry," and then imprison them in a
box a good deal less than four feet square, and then say to them, "Now,
you poor, frightened, half-starved creatures, show us what reasoning
powers you possess." About as well throw some benighted Africans into
a slave ship and order them to make a telephone or a phonograph! My
comparison is not too strong, considering the immense distance there is
between the human race and the brute creation. And so it must be, in
the bringing to light of the powers of memory and the clear exhibition
of the reasoning powers, few though they be, that the tests are not
conclusive unless made under the most favorable environment, upon dogs
of the highest intelligence, and in the most congenial and sympathetic
manner.
Testing this most interesting question in this manner, my decided
convictions are that animals do reason.
SKETCH OF GEORGE M. STERNBERG.
No man among Americans has studied the micro-organisms with more profit
or has contributed more to our knowledge of the nature of infection,
particularly of that of yellow fever, than Dr. GEORGE M. STERNBERG, of
the United States Army. His merits are freely recognized abroad, and
he ranks there, as well as at home, among the leading bacteriologists
of the age. He was born at Hartwick Seminary, an institution of the
Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (General Synod), Otsego, N. Y.,
June 8, 1838. His father, the Rev. Levi Sternberg, D. D., a graduate of
Union College, a Lutheran minister, and for many years principal of the
seminary and a director of it, was descended from German ancestors who
came to this country in 1703 and settled in Schoharie County, New York.
The younger Sternberg received his academical training at the seminary,
after which, intending to study medicine, he undertook a school at New
Germantown, N. J., as a means of earning a part of the money required
to defray the cost of his instruction in that science. The record of
his school was one of quiet sessions, thoroughness, and popularity of
the teacher, and his departure was an occasion of regret among his
patrons.