By REV. J. G. WOOD, M.A.
We have to consider those creatures who are deprived of food by climate,
but who are able to pass to other places where food still exists. Travel
for this purpose is called migration, and it may be accomplished in two
ways, namely, upon the earth by means of feet, or over it by means of
wings. We will first take migration on foot.
Again, I put aside man, because his migrations (and we English are the
most migratory race on the earth) are the result of reason and not of
instinct. Man migrates for a definite purpose. He knows beforehand the
object of his travel, and if he should prefer staying in one country
he can do so. But these papers do not deal with human reason, but with
animal instinct, which is, in fact, Divine wisdom brought into visible
action without the exercise of free will on the part of the agent.
In many cases migration has a strong influence on man. To uncivilized man
it is mostly an unmixed benefit, as he lives upon the migrators. But to
civilized man it is almost invariably an unmixed evil, as the migrators
destroy the crops which he is cultivating, in order to supply food for
the coming year. We shall see examples with both these influences.
As might naturally be expected, food is more apt to fail toward the poles
than in the temperate zones, and so we find many examples of migration in
northern Europe. One of them has the curious result that it involves the
migration of man. I allude to the annual migration of the vast herds of
reindeer possessed by the Lapps. Forced by instinct, the reindeers are
obliged to migrate in search of food, and unless their owners wish to
lose all their property, they must needs accompany the deer.
Now, to the Lapp the reindeer is what cows are to the Kaffir, or land and
funded property to us. A Lapp of moderate wealth must possess at least a
thousand reindeer. Half that number are required to make a man recognized
as one of the well-to-do middle class, while those who only have forty or
fifty are nothing but servants, who are forced to mingle their deer with
those of their masters.
From these details the reader can form some idea of the vast herds of
tame reindeer possessed by the Lapps alone. The annual incursion of
these herds into more civilized countries can at the best be considered
only a nuisance, and as the herds increase in numbers year by year their
migration becomes an intolerable pest.
For example, the _Globe_ newspaper lately made the following remarks:
“Every year, Tromsoe is the meeting point of upward of a hundred thousand
reindeer, the property of the nomads, who follow them from Sweden. The
herd is rather ‘nice’ in the selection of pasturage, and the absence of
everything save a mere superficial control gives it the most complete
freedom of choice.
“Wandering about at their own sweet will, the reindeer do damage
indiscriminately in meadow, plowed land, and forest. The farmer may
protest, but he is powerless to prevent the destruction of his young wood
or the trampling down of his crops.
“If he appeals to the authorities he is baffled by the practical
impossibility of fixing responsibility for damage upon the right owner.
Only the Lapps know the offender, and a verdict with damages often enough
serves no other purpose than that of bringing Scandinavian justice into
ridicule, for, before it can be carried into effect, the defendant has
gone on another of his annual migrations.”
This pest has at last reached such dimensions that special laws were
made about a year ago to meet it. Norway and Sweden have therefore been
divided into districts, and if damage be done, and the owners of the
offending animals not be given up, the entire district has to make good
the damage, each family having to pay in proportion to the number of
reindeer which they own.
Now we will take another example of migration from the same country.
As we have seen, the migration of the reindeer occurs at regular
intervals, and can be provided against, especially as it is possible to
make the owners of the migrators responsible for the damage which they
do. But there is one animal of northern Europe which has no special time
for migration, against whose approach it is impossible to provide, whom
it is almost equally impossible to resist when it is on the march, and
for whom no one can be responsible. It is therefore far more baneful to
civilized man.
This is the lemming, a little, short-tailed, round-eared rodent, somewhat
resembling our common water-rat in shape and size. In its ordinary life
it is nothing more than a small, rather voracious, very prolific, and
unintellectual rodent. It is too stupid to get out the way of anything,
and if met by a cart its only idea would be to bite the wheel. Mr.
Metcalfe mentions that two or three lemmings might be indulging in their
favorite habit of sitting on a stump. If a traveler accompanied by dogs
passed by them, the dogs were sure to fly at the lemmings. Yet the stupid
creatures would not think of escaping, though there might be plenty of
time to do so, but would merely sit on the stumps and try to bite the
dogs’ noses. This remarkable stupidity will account for the way in which
the migration invariably ends.
Owing to its fecundity, conjoined with its voracity, it sometimes fails
to obtain food in its own district, and migrates southward.
The strangest point about this migration is its exceeding uncertainty.
Fortunately, there is seldom an interval of less than seven years between
the migrations, and seventeen years have been known to pass before the
coming of the lemming. Yet, whatever the interval may be, the whole of
the lemmings of vast northern districts begin their march southward
through Norway and Sweden in search of food.
They are divided into two vast armies, which are kept apart by the
Kiolens range; and it is very curious that they direct their course
toward the southwest and southeast. Nothing seems to stop their progress.
They only have one idea, namely, to press onward. If a wall or house be
in their line of march they will try to climb it rather than go round
it, and if they come upon a stack of corn they will eat it and then go
forward.
Rivers, and even lakes, are swum by the lemmings, thousands of which are
eaten by the fishes. They are admirable swimmers as long as the surface
of the water is smooth, but the least ripple is too much for them, so
that if the day be windy very few of those which enter the water are seen
to leave it alive.
Their ranks are perpetually thinned by birds and beasts of prey which
accompany their columns. These parasites are wolves, foxes, wild cats,
stoats and other weasels, eagles, hawks and owls. It is said that even
the reindeer feed upon them. Man eats them, and so obtains some trifling
compensation for the destruction of his crops. But, while its invasion
lasts, the lemming is nearly as destructive as the locust itself, not
leaving even a blade of grass behind it. Despairing of checking this
terrible foe by ordinary means, the people turned to religion, and had a
special service of exorcism prepared against the lemmings.
The end of the migration is as unaccountable as its beginning. I have
mentioned the instinct which forces the creature to proceed onward on the
line which it has taken. Now, Norway and Sweden form a peninsula, toward
the apex of which the course of the lemmings is directed. It follows
that sooner or later the animals must arrive at the coast. And, having
reached the shore, they still must needs go into the sea, where the waves
almost immediately drown them.
Now we will turn from cold to heat, and imagine ourselves in South
Africa. From the migrants of that country we will take the springbok as
our example.
Many travelers in that country have mentioned the “trek-bokken,” as the
Boers call these pilgrimages, but none have painted them more vividly
than the late Captain Gordon Cumming, whose description I have had the
pleasure of hearing as well as seeing.
One morning, as he had been lying awake in his wagon for some two hours
before daybreak, he had heard the continual grunting of male springboks,
but took no particular notice of the sound.
“On my rising, when it was clear, and looking about me, I beheld the
ground to the northward of my camp actually covered with a dense living
mass of springboks, marching steadily and slowly along, extending from
an opening in a long range of hills on the west, through which they
continued pouring like the flood of some great river, to a ridge about
half a mile to the east, over which they disappeared. The breadth of the
ground which they covered might have been somewhere about half a mile.
“I stood upon the fore-chest of my wagon for nearly two hours, lost in
wonder at the novel and beautiful scene which was passing before me; and
had some difficulty in convincing myself that it was a reality which I
beheld, and not the wild and exaggerated picture of a hunter’s dream.
During this time their vast legions continued streaming through the neck
in the hills, in one unbroken, compact phalanx.”
It has sometimes happened that a flock of sheep has strayed into the
line of march. In such cases the flock has been overlapped, enveloped in
the springbok army, and forced to join in the march. A most astonishing
example of the united power of the springbok was witnessed by a well
known hunter.
Just as the lemming hosts are attended by the birds and beasts of prey of
their own country, so it is with the springbok. These parasites do not
attack the main body, but watch for the stragglers and pounce upon them.
During the passage of one of these springbok armies a lion was seen in
the midst of the antelopes, forced to take unwilling part in the march.
He had evidently miscalculated his leap and sprung too far, alighting
upon the main body. Those upon whom he alighted must have recoiled
sufficiently to allow him to reach the ground, and then the pressure from
both flanks and the rear prevented him from escaping from his strange
captivity.
As only the front ranks of these armies can put their heads to the
ground, we very naturally wonder how those in the middle and rear can
feed. The mode which is adopted is equally simple and efficacious.
When the herd arrives at pasturage, those animals which occupy the front
feed greedily until they can eat no more. Then, being ruminants, they
need rest in order to enable them to chew the cud. So they fall out of
the ranks and quietly chew the cud until the column has almost passed
them, when they fall in at the rear, and gradually work their way to the
front again.
As to water, they do not require it, many of these South African
antelopes possessing the singular property of being able to exist for
months together without drinking. Dr. Livingstone has offered a very
remarkable theory on this subject, but the limited space will not permit
me to cite it.
Let us again visit in imagination a different part of the world, and
suppose ourselves to be on the prairies of North America. There we find
another ruminant, the bison, wrongly called the buffalo.
This creature migrates with tolerable regularity, and not many years ago,
when the red men possessed the vast expanses of North America, the native
tribes were dependent upon the bison for their very existence. The bison
was to the red Indian what the seal tribe is to the Esquimaux.
From the skins were made their tents or “wigwams,” their warm clothing
for winter, and their shields; while the bones afforded rude tools, and
handles for weapons, the sinews gave strength and toughness to their
wonderful little bows, while there was scarcely a portion of the animal
that was not put to some useful purpose.
The annual migrations brought the creatures within the reach of the
various tribes, who, being in a state of perpetual warfare, did not dare
to venture out of their own district in search of the bison.
So utterly dependent, indeed, were they upon the migrations of the bison,
that if the coming of the animals was delayed a few weeks beyond the
usual period, death from hunger would be an almost certain result. The
reader may perhaps remember that several tribes of Esquimaux were lately
exterminated by a similar failure, the walrus having deserted its usual
haunts, and gone off to some land whither they could not follow it.
In some respects the bison resembles the lemming, being equally stupid,
and equally determined to press forward. Nothing will stop the bison
herd when it is “on the run.” The animals do not march slowly, like the
springbok, but dash forward at full speed, their heads down, their long
hair hanging over their eyes, and each only intent on following those
which are in front of it.
The hunters, whether native or European, take advantage of this
peculiarity. The country in which these creatures live is intersected
here and there with ravines many hundreds of feet in depth, having nearly
perpendicular sides. At a distance of a hundred yards these ravines are
as invisible as the trenches of a modern fortress.
The hunters, however, know every inch of the country, and when they learn
that a bison herd is on the run they contrive to frighten the leaders,
who compose the front rank, until they are taking a direct course for a
ravine.
Then, nothing is needed but to let the bisons alone. When they come
within forty yards or so of the ravine, the leaders see the danger, and
try to stop; but the pressure from behind is so irresistible that they
are forced onward, and pushed over the edge of the precipice. The rest of
the herd follow them, scarcely any of them even seeing the ravine until
they are falling into it.
In this reckless way thousands of bisons are destroyed in less than an
hour. Not one hundredth part of them can be used by the hunters, the
remainder being left to feed the vultures, coyotes, and other scavengers.
It is no wonder that the animal becomes gradually scarce, and that the
hunters are obliged year by year to go farther afield in search of
it.—_London Sunday Magazine._
* * * * *
Every man must patiently bide his time. He must wait. More particularly
in lands like my native land, where the pulse of life beats with such
feverish and impatient throbs, is the lesson needful. Our national
character wants the dignity of repose. We seem to live in the midst of a
battle—there is such a din, such a hurrying to and fro. In the streets
of a crowded city it is difficult to walk slowly. You feel the rushing
of the crowd, and rush with it onward. In the press of our life it is
difficult to be calm. In this stress of wind and tide, all professions
seem to drag their anchors, and are swept out into the main. The voices
of the present say, “Come!” But the voices of the past say, “Wait!” With
calm and solemn footsteps the rising tide bears against the rushing
torrent up stream, and pushes back the hurrying waters. With no less
calm and solemn footsteps, nor less certainty, does a great mind bear
up against public opinion, and push back its hurrying stream. Therefore
should every man wait—should bide his time.—_Longfellow’s “Hyperion.”_
* * * * *
He is not dead who departs this life with high fame; dead is he, though
still living, whose brow is branded with infamy.—_Tieck._