on?" "O w e." "We?" (weh = pain) "Like pain?" "No." "You meant like the
exclamation--'O weh'?" "Yes!" "But what do I smell of?" "Of surogat"
(!) The use of this word by Lola seemed to be abnormal and mysterious,
so I said "I am sure you have never heard that word from me!" and she
replied "No!" "Tell me the name of the surogat?" "1"--(which stands for
"I will not tell!") "Tell me! for you know the word for it!" I
insisted. "Yes!" "_Please tell me_?" "1"--"I will not be angry," I
pleaded, "I will give you a biscuit." But Lola returned again a
reluctant "1." "What is this 1 to mean, Lola--is it yes or no?" "4" ( =
mittel). She would not look at me and while seemingly desirous of
"insinuating" something, was yet not quite ready to make a frank
acknowledgment of the implication. "Lola, tell me!" I exclaimed, and
she rapped "Luigen." "_Lügen_?" (lying) "Ja--nein." "Lola! I won't
be angry; do I smell of lies?" "Yes." "Here at home?" "Minchen."
(München = Munich.) And then it suddenly dawned on me; an hour earlier
I had told the dog that I was going to Munich and that perhaps she
might go with me. Yet at the same time I was by no means so sure that
this could be managed, and thought therefore of taking her to
Stuttgart. People may smile when they read these things--indeed I have
often smiled myself, but I cannot help it if Lola chooses to give such
answers! Probably the future may bring me further enlightenment! There
were many more occasions on which I was able to test Lola's quick nose
in taking up the scent of human beings as well as of game and also the
smell attaching to different articles. I need not particularize these,
for anyone possessing a dog with a keen nose may know this as well as I
do--or, even better.
SENSITIVENESS OF THE SKIN
The time at my disposal has unfortunately not been sufficient to enable
me to engage on any very careful tests as to the sensitiveness of
Lola's skin. Yet I have made certain preliminary notes as to what I
hope to do in this connexion, and have also begun with a few tentative
attempts. I first tried her sensibility to various degrees of warmth by
teaching her the use of the thermometer. I made a drawing of a
thermometer--according to its actual size--and added principal numbers
and figures and also
at 100°, water becomes air = hot.
at 0°, water becomes hard = cold.
and beneath this I wrote:
from 1-100 upwards, it becomes always hotter,
from 0-40 downwards, it becomes always colder,
and I concluded with a few more verbal elucidations, and then fetched
an actual thermometer on which I made her read me the temperature of
the room. The next day I repeated this lesson and she read the
thermometer again. After this I tested her as to whether she could give
the temperature by the "feel," as it were, or whether the impression of
the temperature was associated more immediately with a sense of
comfort. She has so far always given the right temperature when asked,
though I should add that I have only put the question to her about
twenty times--and then when she has been in good health, so that I feel
that the matter has not yet been sufficiently put to the proof, and I
cannot, therefore, make any very definite statements with regard to
this particular faculty. But I must add, that to two questions put to
her on different days, she answered that she "liked her food best at 6°
of warmth!" Now this chimes with the advice given in many a book on the
care of dogs; "do not give them their food too hot"--and Lola's remark
reminded me of this, though I might consider that "degree of heat"
practically _cool_ ... yet it appeared to be what she desired.
Nevertheless, this preference turned out shortly to have been erroneous
and, as the result of a practical trial, Lola changed her mind and
voted for anything "between 12°--16°!" Here is one more test I put with
regard to her susceptibility to touch: I got someone else to trace
figures with their fingers on the dog's back, placing myself so that I
could not see what was being described; then I put the questions, and
each time her replies tallied almost invariably. One put to her in this
manner was: "2 + 3?"; and "5" was given at once. While "7 + 4?"
elicited a prompt "11." Then a number was described and I said: "Twice
this number makes?"; to which she replied "8," four having been traced
on her back. We only tried this new test for a few days so that I can
give no more exact details about it--excepting this, that on that
particular day, she would only understand the figures _if inscribed in
this manner on her back_! It evidently amused her immensely, and we
could see that she seemed to "transfer her attention," as it were,
elsewhere. But though this test had been so successful with numerals,
it failed entirely with letters. This was incidentally an attempt on
quite a small scale at carrying out the tests which had been
successfully so put to the blind horse Bertho, by Karl Krall.
These experiments as to her susceptibility to touch, or pressure, led
to one slightly different, and which cannot as yet be said to have gone
beyond its initial stages. I took a set of weights of 5, 10, 20, 30,
100, 200, 400, and 500 grammes, and also others of 1 and 2 kilo, and
told Lola she must learn to know how heavy a thing could be. Then I
placed the weights separately between her two shoulder-blades, naming
them beforehand somewhat as follows--and having first written out a
chart for her which set forth in a plain and easy form what I was going
to say:
125 grammes = 1/4 lb.
250 grammes = 1/2 lb.
500 grammes = 1 lb.
1000 grammes = 1 kilogramme
100 lb. = 1 zentner
I then explained this carefully and questioned her at once:
"How many pounds are 375 grammes?" Answer: "3/4."[18] "How much are
1,000 grammes?" Answer: "2." I had intentionally refrained from putting
questions as to figures that were on her chart which I had left lying
before her; and after she had given her replies in accordance with the
pressure she had felt between her shoulders, I tested her ability at
guessing where greater differences of weight were in question. On two
occasions she gave the right answers, namely "1 pound" and "2 pounds,"
I having put the question so as to obviate superfluous spelling. I then
showed her the weights, placing them in a row before her, naming them
again and saying: "Which is the heaviest?" She answered "4." As a
matter of fact, the heaviest of these weights, the two-pound one, was
actually standing fourth. I continued: "And now?" (I had for this
question transposed the weights--unseen by Lola.) Answer: "1." Which
was quite right! Then--"Where is the 100 grammes?" "3." "Where is 50
grammes?" "2," and "Where is one pound?" "5." Her answers, as will be
seen, were perfect; she had learnt to understand what was expected of
her in this test with great rapidity.
[18] Fractions will be touched on in a later chapter on "Advanced
Arithmetic."
Indeed, more elaborate tests might have been undertaken but, unfortunately,
I had little leisure at the time, and was without the assistance of any
educated person who might have helped me in the work. As, however, the
"spade-work" in this particular field of experiment seems now to have
been accomplished, many additional and interesting details might
result--given the right opportunity.
It may, perhaps, be a matter of surprise, that I should have undertaken
these three separate tests, and left them in their initial stages,
instead of working persistently at one in particular, and thus, maybe,
putting the time to better use. The reason was the old and troublesome
one which was always cropping up and causing me no little worry:
_Lola's interest must not be allowed to flag_. In the course of a
fortnight or three weeks, for instance, I have not dared to embark on
more than _one_ test, not even continuing that one for as many as five
consecutive days. This is why the three tests, above narrated, followed
close one upon the other, while I took care to turn Lola's attention
from them in between, making her go over all sorts of sums and spelling
exercises. Should I have persisted in fixing her attention I should
only have defeated my true object, and made her stale for future
undertakings. In fact, I only engaged in these three, by way of giving
a greater sense of _completeness_ to the idea, and also in order to
fire the ambition of others embarking upon work of a similar nature.
FORECASTING THE WEATHER
On 2 May, 1916, at a season, therefore, when farmers are generally
somewhat exercised as to the coming hay-harvest, and may well wish they
had some contrivance--or knew of some method whereby they could
ascertain, at all events, a few days in advance what the weather is
going to be, a thought flashed into my mind. At first it raised a
smile, it seemed so ridiculous and impracticable, yet there could be no
harm in trying. I knew that most animals, such as birds, game, etc.,
sensed the approach of rain at least several hours before it began to
fall. But the subject is one that has not yet come sufficiently under
notice, so that we do not know whether they may not sense the
atmospheric changes over an even longer period. We humans are not in a
position to discover how animals come by their knowledge, we can only
conclude that Nature has equipped them with more delicate "chords," so
to speak, and that upon these highly strung chords she can sound a
warning of her impending changes, since these, our humbler brethren,
stand in more imminent need thereof. It is common knowledge that
animals sense earthquakes long in advance of the actual shock, and this
can only be accounted for in some such way. At the time of the
earthquake in 1912, Rolf, at Mannheim, crept into a corner _several
hours_ before it took place, and on being questioned, replied: "Lol
hat angst, weiss nid vor was." (Lol is frightened; doesn't know at
what.) It was quite useless trying to get further particulars as to his
fears, for an earthquake was an entirely new experience to him; at a
repetition of the event his remarks would, doubtless, be of greater
interest and importance. Now as the weather is a matter that concerns
animals, and with which they are also familiar, I determined to see how
far I could get with Lola on this subject. So I taught her as follows:
For sun = s.
For rain = r.
For some rain = b (ein Bischen = a little).
and to test her in this matter, I questioned her as to the last few
days--here she answered correctly. Then I began:
"What about to-day?" Lola replied: "b" ( = it is raining a little). I
now felt sufficiently encouraged to ask her concerning the days ahead,
and received the following answers:
For 3 May = s (sun).
For 4 May = s (sun).
For 5 May = b (some rain).
For 6 May = nein (no = don't know).
I told these forecastings of Lola's to several friends who, like
myself, were watching the weather with anxiety. Rightly enough! the sun
shone on 3 May; on that very day therefore I continued putting my
questions--and Lola again prophesied:
For 6 May = r (rain).
For 7 May = b (a little rain).
On the next day, 4 May, the sun shone once more--as she had said it
would, and in the afternoon I asked her: "How do you come to know the
weather, Lola? How do you do it?" "Raten" (guessing). In astonishment I
said: "From whom have you got that word?" "Dir" (from you) "Have you
heard me say it?" "Yes!" On the 5th there were a few drops of rain, and
on the 6th two hours' heavy downfall, but on the 7th it was dry and
sunny, so that it may be that I had taxed her powers of anticipation
beyond their limit, for I had asked her far in advance of the 3rd. From
time to time she then continued to give me "advance information" as to
the kind of weather to expect, two days or, at most, three days were
the test put, and for some time I was able to fully rely on her
forecasts, and would arrange my work accordingly, being careful not to
cut or mow when Lola had prophesied _rain_, etc.
One morning, the sort of day when one cannot be sure of what it means
to do, rain or clear, I again sought my dog's advice! It was very
important to me that the hay should be carried, while the weather was
dry, but I should have preferred having it loaded up towards evening,
as the carts were wanted for other work--if only I knew what to expect!
Lola decided for "r" (rain) in the afternoon, so I had the hay carried
at eleven--_at three the rain began_, but my loads were saved! A long
period of wet weather followed; after this had continued for a
fortnight--a beautiful morning broke, fine and clear, so that every one
about the farm said--"at last it's going to be fine again!" I enquired
of Lola--"Will there be sun to-day?" "No!" she said: "Then tell me what
the weather will be to-day?" I urged. "r." I was loth to believe her,
yet, by eleven, the rain had begun again. Now all this seemed very
nice, and I was quite delighted, for the importance of such accuracy in
agricultural work was incalculable, but I soon found that I was
"reckoning without my host!" After she had--as I have shown--gone on
rapping out useful and correct replies for some time, she got sick of
it, began to rap out all sorts of nonsense; indeed, I knew at once from
her listless and unfriendly manner that her interest was falling off,
and that the replies she was giving were false. It seemed to me,
indeed, that she was doing this obstinately and on purpose, so as to
put me off asking any more questions! And--if so--she certainly gained
her point. The lesson of this, is that one has to bear in mind that one
is not dealing with a _machine_, but with a living being--and with one
that is in many respects exceedingly "unreasonable" and particularly
"self-willed."
I had been devoting myself to this work for some months, and had lost
some of my earlier interest, but I started again three days ago so as
to have another test to set down here. Lola proved to be up to the mark
again, seemed interested, and I did my best to encourage her by saying:
"You _will_ be pleased when you know _this_!" ... "This _is_ nice!" ...
"See how much more a dog knows than many a man!" and so on. And as a
result she announced on 5 January, 1917.
For 6 January = b (a little rain).
For 7 January = r (rain).
For 8 January = r (rain).
On 6 January, there was half a degree of cold, and snow fell later in
the day. This answer was near enough, for she had not been taught
"snow," yet the equivalent might doubtless be found in a little "rain,"
i.e. wet. On 7 January, we had a heavy fall of snow, and another on 8
January. So that this test succeeded, if we discount the snow instead
of rain, a change occasioned by the colder atmosphere.
ADVANCED ARITHMETIC
As the reader will now know, Lola was already acquainted with the
simpler modes of arithmetic--such as addition, subtraction,
multiplication and division; and we continued practising these forms
for some time, even though my mind was already busy planning other and
more ambitious tests. Arithmetic had of late only been taken as a
corollary to her other studies, but the time seemed to have come when
further advance in this too, might be deemed desirable. Her ability to
"reckon" had already proved itself of practical use in facilitating her
other accomplishments, and I determined now to try and put it to a
still more objective test, first of all in such simple forms as: "How
many people are there here?" Answer: "7." "How many of them are women?"
Answer: "6." "How many dogs are there in this room?" Answer: "1." "And
who is that?" "Ich" (I). A little later I said: "Listen to me, Lola!
There are thirty cows in the stalls; ten of those cows go to graze, and
two cows have been killed, how many cows remain in the stalls?" Answer:
"18." Then I said: "Six oxen are in the stalls--how many legs have six
oxen?" Answer: "24." and so we continued, the right reply being
generally given after this exercise had been repeated a few times.
In May, 1916, Lola learnt the big multiplication-table, doing so easily
and quickly. She was at first slightly inaccurate in the higher
numbers, for rapping out the "hundreds" with the right paw and the
"tens" with the left--and then again the "ones" with the right gave her
some trouble in the beginning. Yet such questions as: 3 + 14, 2 + 17, 4
+ 20, were given without hesitation, since these did not come within
the region of the hundreds. But in time she got used to the hundreds
too--and even to thousands, and to these latter she applied her left
paw, rapping the date 1916 thus: left paw 1; right paw 9; left paw 1;
right paw 6.
Towards the end of May I thought I would teach her fractions, and she
apparently understood what I meant, but for a beginning I could only
put questions, such as: "How many _wholes_ are there in 20/4, 12/4, or
11/2" etc. Indeed, I was at first at a loss as to what form of
expression I should use here--so as not to come into collision with
those already resorted to, thus giving rise to confusion. At first I
thought it might be more convenient to let her rap out the denominator
with her right paw and the numerator with her left--but I soon came to
see that even with 3/16, this method could no longer be maintained. At
length I let her simply rap out the numerator--then I would ask for the
denominator, and let her rap this, so that in the case of 3/16 she
rapped the 3 first with her right paw; then gave the denominator, i.e.
1 rap with her left paw and 6 again with her right. This mode or
procedure came quite naturally to her, and so it was retained. The
questions were practised in the following manner:--"How do you rap 3/8,
12/6?" etc., and I followed this up with easy exercises such as: "How
much is 2/8 + 1/4?" the simplified answer being "1/2." I had, as may be
imagined, already given her repeated and detailed explanations on the
subject before she was capable of giving such answers as "1/2," to the
above question. Simplifying was also practised separately thus:
"Simplify 20/16!" Answer: "1-1/4." this being given with "1 r" (pause)
"1 r" (another pause); "and the denominator?" "4 r." To anyone
following her actions, the meaning would appear quite distinct. I now
determined that she should add together numbers having different
denominators--as, for example: 1/4 + 1/3, and here I had myself to
cogitate as to how this ought to be done, for at school, my enthusiasm
for arithmetic had never been great and much of what I had then learnt
has been forgotten. So I talked the question over with a friend--in
Lola's presence and out loud--and finally arrived at the solution. As
she had been listening most of the time while we sought, found, and
discussed the solution, I soon ventured to put a few tests to her, and
the answers proved that she had actually been listening while our
conversation was going on, and that what we had talked about had
lingered in her memory. By the way, it is reported of Jean Paul
Richter, that when on some occasion a friend came to him desirous of
talking over some matter, the nature of which none other was to know,
Jean Paul said to his poodle, who was under the table: "Go outside, we
want to be alone!" The dog vacated, and the poet remarked: "Now, sir,
you can talk, for no one will hear us!"
Lola solved the following problems:
"1/5 + 1/3 = ?" A. "8/15." "1/7 + 5/8 = ?" A. "43/56."
"1/2 + 1/3 = ?" A. "5/6." "1/4 + 2/5 = ?" A. "13/20."
As the problems always took me longer than they did her I never checked
them at the time, but went over them later, after she had given all her
answers. I did this moreover, so that she should have no opportunity of
tapping my thoughts and thus rely on me; indeed, I really _forced_ her
to do her own thinking. For even if I did begin to calculate I did it
so slowly, that she was rapping out her reply long before I was done. I
say all this to my own shame, for Lola must have her due--and I never
had a head for arithmetic myself!
When she knew how to calculate time, I put the following question to
her: "How many minutes are there in an hour and a half--less thirty
minutes?" Answer: "60." "How many hours are there in 240 minutes?"
Answer: "4." By this time Lola had also learnt the value of money.
About the end of April, 1916, she could distinguish between such coins
as 5 Pfennige, 10 Pfennige, 50 Pfennige; 1 Mark, 2 Mark, and 5 Mark,
and could compute the value of the Mark in Pfennige. When showing my
friends what she could do in the way of arithmetic, her money sums were
a special feature and delighted everybody. Here is an example, the date
being 31 May: I put the question: "12 Mark less 4 Mark 10 Pfennige?"
adding--"Tell me the Mark!" Answer: "7." "And the Pfennige?" "90" (i.e.
7 Mark 90 Pfennige.) Question: "What coins do you know?" Answer: "5,
10, 50; 1, 2." "And what are they all?" "Fenig." (i.e. Lola's mode of
spelling Pfennig.) "Lola, how much of a Mark are 50 Pfennige? The
answer has to do with fractions." Answer: "1/2." "How much are 225
Pfennige?" "2-1/4." "And 20 Pfennige?" "1/5." "And 60?" "3/5." "And
3/20 Mark, how many Pfennige?" "20." _"No!_ "8/20 Mark?" Answer: "15."
Towards the close of 1916 I taught her to raise numbers to various
powers. At this she was slow in the beginning, but ultimately mastered
it fairly well. She could soon answer such questions as--"3^3 = ?" with
"27." And--"4^2 = ?" with "16," doing so, moreover, with ease; but up
to now I have not been able to take her any further in the matter of
extracting roots; in the first place I have had little time to give to
it, and secondly, I am by no means on very sure ground there myself! I
might, of course, have rubbed up my own rusty arithmetic had my
interest in this particular accomplishment of Lola's been greater.
But--for my own part, I attach greater importance to the psychological
side of this question, and would far rather probe and delve within the
depths of her dog-soul, exploring the extent of her other abilities,
since arithmetic has already some brilliant exponents in, for instance,
Krall's horses.
WORKING WITH OTHER PERSONS.
As may readily be imagined, it is by no means easy to induce an animal
to work with any person it does not regard as its accepted teacher. On
such occasions, it will behave like a small child, and be restless and
even intractable. Often, too, while apparently willing, there may be
something unfamiliar in the way in which a question is put (a matter
for which no one can be blamed!), this resulting in the impossibility
of getting an answer. Sometimes, too, the hand proffered to receive the
replies is not held either straight or flat enough, or may not have the
right slant that will enable the paw to rap without slipping off. Or,
again a hand will be held too high, and thus cause much inconvenience
to the animal. Then too, questions are carelessly worded, and seem
strange to the method of thought to which its regular instructor has
accustomed it, fresh explanations being then required to achieve any
results at all. And so it comes, that only those can work successfully
with animals who have already been frequently present at the teaching,
and are then willing to try their luck, calmly and tranquilly--and
quite alone with the animal, so as to carefully develop their own
aptitude, as well as gain the confidence of their charge. It is true
that in the case of the horses, others, besides Herr Krall, frequently
did work with them. Indeed, my father got excellent answers from them,
although he had to do with them for only a short time. But the matter
seems rather more difficult with dogs; for one thing, they do not stand
in front of a board--independently, so to speak--as do the horses; nor
are they, from the beginning of their career as habitually accustomed
to a variety of persons about them, at least, not to the extent that
horses are. And yet they are sometimes quite ready to work with others,
this being the case with Lola when I took her to Stuttgart, on a visit
to a lady she already knew--Fräulein M. D., and who had put a few
questions to her when here at the farm, questions which she had
answered quite correctly. At Stuttgart there was a larger circle of
listeners, and Lola sat in their midst upon a table. Fräulein M. D.
stood beside me, and I asked her to put the question. I do not now
remember what the question was, but I had extended my hand for the
reply. Lola, however, turned to the speaker, and tapped the correct
answer on that lady's arm, giving the second--and equally good one on
Fräulein M. D.'s proffered hand. Lola is also in the habit of answering
my people with either "yes" or "no" as the case may be, and on one
occasion--when I was away from home, having gone to Munich for three
weeks--she remained with Frau Kindermann at Hohenheim, and during that
time, gave replies to all kind of questions put to her by that lady, as
the following report will show:
"REPORT OF FRAU PROFESSOR KINDERMANN IN HOHENHEIM
"On my asking Lola: 'Where is your mistress?' she
answered--'minchen!' (München). When I showed her the portrait of
my son Karl and asked--'Of whom is this a picture?' Lola at once
replied 'Karli.' On 28 October, I received a hamper of vegetables
from my mother--known to Lola as 'Mama,' to whom she had been on a
visit at Easter. Lola sniffed all the hamper over, then jumped
about and wagged her tail joyfully--so I inquired: 'Do you know who
the hamper is from?' 'Yes!' 'Then tell me!' 'Mama!' She did a few
sums with me every day; told the time; the days of the week, and
the temperature. Several acquaintances bore witness to the good
work she did--and Lola told them her age--after she had been given
the year of her birth. If I happened to be absent minded, Lola knew
at once how to deceive me, for she seemed then, instinctively aware
that I was not a match for her."
* * * * *