HABITS AND HAIR OF UNGULATES.
Oxen.
The even-toed section of hoofed animals is a much larger group than
the odd-toed, and the difference may be illustrated by looking at the
great work on Natural History by Lydekker. There are 273 pages given
up to this group and only 112 to the odd-toed, and when we remember
that there are contained in it the hippopotamus, all the pigs, oxen,
sheep, goats, antelopes, camels, llamas, giraffes and deer, we can see
that Lydekker was well justified in the great amount of space devoted
to them. But we all have our different forms of _penchant_, and I
propose to say very much less about this section than about the other
represented by the domestic horse. It is well to claim the shelter
of a great name in such an apportionment of interest, and Professor
Poulton has given a clear precedent in his great book called _Essays
on Evolution_. It contains 393 pages and even though the subject of
the work is Evolution, he has given up 330 pages approximately, or
five-sixths, of his space to insects. This can be gathered from a rough
analysis of his various essays, and no one need blame a great biologist
for having a _penchant_ for the subject he knows best, or a small one
for writing of that he knows a little.
The reason that the even-toed ungulates require less study from the
present point of view is that they are so much more marked by the
normal or primitive slope of hair than the previous group of Chapter
IX. They demonstrate very widely and thoroughly the empire of the
primitive or “barbarian” forces and so far are valuable witnesses of
the negative kind. No case can well be proved to satisfaction by a
large series of negatives, and this was the hopeless task Weismann set
out to prove, when he staked his all on the non-inheritance of acquired
characters--and failed. But negative evidence is of great value in
supporting an hypothesis when it is found to be the precise complement
to extensive positive evidence brought in favour of that hypothesis.
That is the case in regard to the patterns of hair found on oxen,
sheep, antelopes, gazelles and deer, to say nothing of hippopotami,
pigs and llamas. There are some of these patterns described in the
previous group which appear in this larger one, but for size,
persistence and frequency they cannot be compared to those of the
horse, who has, if I may so say, inherited all the family property in
his own person and added to it.
The variations in the present group are fully dealt with in the two
earlier books already quoted,[52],[53], and I will not complicate this
chapter by any further remarks on them.
[52] _Op. cit._ _Use inheritance._
[53] _Op. cit._ _Direction of Hair._
Oxen.
Of the numerous divisions of even-toed ungulates the oxen present the
best cases for study of the various ways in which the hair is disposed,
and among them the best as well as the most accessible is the domestic
ox. Again we have a familiar friend of man and innumerable specimens
for examination as in the case of the horse. So this chapter will, like
the preceding one, resolve itself into the study of one typical animal,
with whose habits of life we are intimately acquainted.
Before describing the habits and hair of the domestic ox or cow, I
would like to point out why I value so highly the negative evidence
which consists in the comparative rarity of whorls, featherings and
crests in even-toed ungulates. This brings us back to the general fact
of the _raison d’être_ of the horse and his group on the one hand,
and the ox and his numerous relatives on the other. There are deer,
antelopes and gazelles which for a spurt would beat any horse and even
the Thibetan wild ass, so I am not trying here to disparage the power
of this graceful swift group in the matter of sprinting. But this term,
however colloquial it may be, clearly marks off the powers and habits
of deer, antelopes and gazelles from those of the horse, for, except
when trying to escape from an enemy, no deer, antelope or gazelle
is fool enough to sprint or even trot for mere pleasure or want of
occupation, and certainly not in the service of man. Thus it comes to
pass that animal pedometers are few and small in this second group of
ungulates, and I submit this negative fact gives strong support to the
views advanced throughout this volume.
A Cow’s Habits.
A cow is a very restful animal except when disturbed by extraneous
causes, and the active habits of her life are of little interest here,
the chief importance of her for study being the passive side of her
life or small minor tricks. As a domestic animal she lives to eat--and
be eaten and drunk--but her wild ancestors and relatives have had far
from an easy life, though this (in them even) has not expressed itself
in animal pedometers. But on her neck, back, flanks, legs and haunches
the cow has some interesting specimens of areas where the normal
hair-slope is reversed in accordance with her habits.
The most striking of these is shown in Figs. 34 and 35, where the
bare form of the animal is shown and the dark thick arrows are made
paramount in order to make the remarkable arrangement of her hair along
the back so clear, that little verbal description is needed.
[Illustration: Figs. 34 and 35.
(A) Side view of cow, showing arrangement of hair-streams on the back.
(B) View of back of cow, showing the same.]
Behind the level of the horns the normal or backward slope proceeds
until the middle of the length of the neck is reached, when it
encounters transversely a sharp upstanding crest and beyond this the
hair is directly reversed from a point over the shoulders, and here
a whorl is found. From this point the stream returns to its ancient
and normal course and so passes to the tail. When the base of the tail
is reached a very significant and apparently whimsical arrangement of
the hair down the centre of the tail is observed. This consists in a
line of stiff hairs which stand up at right angles to the surface of
the tail, and it gradually passes into the normal again when the more
muscular part of the tail is passed. I should add here that the crest
and reversed hair on the back are common to many wild ungulates of
this ruminant group, and a good example of it is seen in an antelope,
Oryx Beisa, which I figured and described in a paper at the Zoological
Society of London.
Arrangements of its hair so audacious as these need explanation, and it
is found in the mode of life of the cow. So large a part of its daily
life is spent in the business of grazing with her muzzle close to the
ground, during which the neck of the animal is constantly stretched
downwards from the back at the level of the shoulders, that the skin,
which is very loose in this and most other portions of its body, is
dragged upon to allow of the extreme flexion of its neck. This traction
is for all this time acting against the normal or backward slope of
the hairs, and has given rise to this victory of a new force through a
thousand generations. It is equally clear that a mechanical explanation
of the line of erect hairs on the first nine or twelve inches of the
tail is forthcoming, for one has only to watch a cow standing on a hot
day, undergoing her torment of flies, to see it writ large. Very strong
little muscles are found at the base of the tail, those along the more
free portion becoming smaller and smaller until they disappear towards
the tip. These give a powerful flicking action to the long heavy tail
and I once made some observations as to this on a number of cows which
were grazing in summer on a comparatively cool wind-swept hillside
in the western end of the Isle of Wight. I watched several cows on
different occasions and found that one would flick her tail 348 times
and another 1082 times per hour. Giving these cows an eight hours’
working day, “working” for their living in grazing and ruminating by
turns, one gains a vivid idea of the number of times per diem these
powerful muscles of the tail contract. If we call it a day of four
hours of grazing and four of ruminating, for the sake of argument, we
get 1392 to 4328 flicks of the tail each day in the time of flies,
leaving out of account the casual flicks in which she would indulge
when flies were not tormenting her. It is hardly necessary to point out
how the underlying muscles would drag upon the skin of the tail over
them and gradually reverse more or less the “lie” of the hairs. They
have not formed into a feathering or complete reversal, but have come
near to it.
Further down the haunches of the cow there is on each side at the back
of the thigh a curving reversed area of hair which turns upwards and
towards the middle line. This is the place where the tail as it swings
from side to side sweeps over the limb and brushes upwards the hair of
the thigh towards which it is swinging. So that the activity of the
tail is responsible for another of the patterns in which the cow’s hair
is arranged.
The lower segment of the hind leg exhibits one more reversed area of
hair due to the cow’s habit of lying on the ground slightly inclined to
one side, for the more comfortable disposing of her limbs, the effect
of this attitude being seen in the manner in which the hair on the back
of the leg turns inwards.
On the dewlaps and flanks are certain variable curls and turns of hair
produced by the frequent twitchings of a muscle situated just under the
skin called the “Fly Shaker” or _panniculus carnosus_. This muscle is
seen any day in the carcase of an ox hanging up in a butcher’s shop,
and it is interesting to notice the fact that it is distributed over
only the lower half of the flank, for the purpose of shaking off flies
from a region which the tail does not reach efficiently. None of this
sheet of muscle is found within the effective range of the cow’s light
artillery, as on the haunches or hinder portion of the spine. This sums
up the equipment of patterns of hair on the species of this group of
ungulates, which is more adorned with them than any I have examined,
and it will be admitted that compared with those of the horse, it
is a poor exhibition, but one which it is easy to understand if the
fundamental principles of this inquiry are kept in mind.
Light Occupations of the Cow.
I watched lately a little act of this drama among a herd of cows on
the Stray at Harrogate during a hot day. There were 105 of them and
this was what they were doing all day--some were browsing with their
muzzles close to the ground, their necks making a considerable angle
with the line of their trunks, others standing stock still with their
heads raised at a level with the body, gazing vacantly into space,
others lying on the grass more advanced in the strenuous work of their
day, ruminating with head level, also gazing at nothing in particular,
with their bodies gently rolled to one side, their fore legs doubled
straight under them and their hind legs planted to one or other
side, and a fourth group still nearer the end of the cycle of work,
lying with their chins resting on the ground. When this cycle was
completed the stages would again be begun, continued and ended. They
were flapping their wide ears in various directions, and twitching
endlessly the skin of the flanks and dewlaps with their fly shakers.
This large group afforded, if one may so describe it, a cinematographic
picture of the lives of countless generations of this conservative
animal. Conservative as she is, I doubt not that in the long-past
ages her quiet though persistent habits had once a battle to wage for
the production of even these mild innovations that I have described.
These present fashions must have been well developed three thousand
five hundred years ago and have adorned that “calf, tender and good,”
which Abraham in the plains of Mamre fetched for the midday meal of his
visitors.