of expression to which they have attained. No one who has well
considered the facts can doubt that our civilized varieties of this
species have something like a hundred times as much which deserves
utterance as their savage forefathers possessed. Yet the capacity for
giving note to these thoughts or emotions has not gained anything like
the proportion to the needs. It seems, however, that some gain in this
direction has been made, and that much may be won hereafter in the way
of further advance. Never having known the species whence our dogs came
in its wild state, we are uncertain as to its modes of expression; but,
observing the varieties of dogs which are kept by savages, it seems
probable that the primitive canines used their voice only in howling or
yelping; that is, as a continuous sound akin to the bellowings or other
cries of the various wild mammals. It is characteristic of all these
primitive forms of utterance that they are, to a great extent,
involuntary, and that when the outcry is begun it continues in a
mechanical manner, with no trace of modulation arising from the
conditions of the moment. In other words, these actions resemble, in a
way, sneezing or hiccoughing in human kind; actions which are
stimulated by certain states of the body, but which are not at all
under the control of the will. Howling or bellowing doubtless
represents, in a measure, a state of mind as well as of body, but the
action is of a general and uncontrolled kind.
The effect of advancing culture upon a dog has been gradually to
decrease this ancient undifferentiated mode of expression afforded by
howling and yelping, and to replace it by the much more speech-like
bark. There is some doubt whether the dogs possessed by savages have the
power of uttering the sharp, specialized note which is so characteristic
of the civilized forms of their species. It is clear, however, that if
they have the capacity of thus expressing themselves, they use it but
rarely. On the other hand, our high-bred dogs have, to a great extent,
lost the habit of expressing themselves in the ancient way. Many of our
breeds appear to have become incapable of ululating. There is no doubt
but this change in the mode of expression greatly increases the capacity
of our dogs to set forth their states of mind. If we watch a high-bred
dog, one with a wide range of sensibilities, which we may find in breeds
which have long been closely associated with man, we may readily note
five or six varieties of sound in the bark, each of which is clearly
related to a certain state of mind. The bark of welcome, of fear, of
rage, of doubt, and of pure fun, are almost always perfectly distinct to
the educated ear, and this although the observer may not be acquainted
with the creature; if he knows him well, he may be able to distinguish
various other intonations--those which express impatience and even an
element of sorrow. This last note verges toward the howl.
It does not seem to me that we should regard barking as a new and
useful invention; there are, indeed, few such in the organic world. The
sound appears to me to have been derived from the primitive habit of
howling. If we hearken to this utterance we perceive that it is not an
unbroken sound, but is somewhat intermittent. At either end of the
prolonged sound we can often notice that it is divided into rather
distinct yelps more or less completely separated from the other notes.
The cries of a dog when beaten often exhibit the same peculiarity; so,
too, the puppy, before he has attained skill in barking, will often
prolong each utterance in a way which makes its relation to the ancient
mode of expression tolerably clear. At the risk of being deemed
fanciful, I venture to suggest that the bark is in effect a division
of the howl into clearly separated notes, the change having come about
as a similar alteration is effected in our own speech, by the increase
in the intelligence which the creature is called upon to express. I
conceive that while the primitive and massive emotions found
satisfying utterance in the long-drawn notes, the more divided state
of mind of the humanized successor has led to a change in its
utterances. Although these modifications of speech, if such we may
term them, have probably been developed on the basis of the dog's
human relations, there is, it seems to me, good reason to believe that
the diversities in note have come to have a distinct conventional
value between the individuals of all the different breeds. Any one who
closely observes these animals must have noticed the fact that the
degree of attention they give to the utterances of their kindred
varies in a way which indicates that they have great varieties of
denotations. Some of the shades of the meaning which a dog's bark has
to others of his species probably escape our less fine ears.
The creation of something like a language among our civilized dogs
has naturally been accompanied by the development of an understanding
of human speech. Although we cannot attach much importance to the
mass of anecdote on this point, there is enough which is well
attested--sufficient, indeed, which has come within the limits of my
own observation--to make it clear that dogs, even without deliberate
teaching, frequently acquire a tolerably clear understanding of a
number of words and even of short phrases. They will catch these not
only when given in distinct command, but when uttered in an ordinary
tone, without any sign that they relate to their affairs. It is true
that these understood words generally relate to some action which the
dog is accustomed to perform, yet there are instances so well
attested that they deserve credit, which seem to show that the
creatures can get some sense of the drift of conversation even when
it is carried on by persons with whom they are not familiar and does
not clearly relate to their own affairs.
It should be observed that within the narrow limits of this essay little
or no effort has been made to interpret the state of mind of dogs from
the vast but rather untrustworthy mass of anecdote with which our books
are filled. So large a part of this evidence is contaminated by
prepossessions, and a yet larger part is so unverified in any scientific
sense, that for purposes of sound inquiry it is worthless. It therefore
seems best to limit ourselves, as has been done in this paper, to those
general actions of the creatures which are matters of common knowledge
and safely beyond question. From these indices we are able to determine
a basis for some important conclusions. These are in effect as follows,
viz.: Our domestic dog is derived from a species, one or more, akin to
the wolf, the jackal, and the fox; to a group of animals not
characterized by great native intelligence, but distinguished for their
ferocity and their general untamableness. There is no reason to believe
that the primitive dog had any more foundation for his great attainments
than his obstinately savage kindred, except that he may have had a
greater disposition to form an attachment to a master. We can hardly
believe that he had any share of that marvellous sympathy with man
and understanding of his motives which characterize the high-bred
varieties of his species. All this vast transformation, which from a
psychological point of view has carried the dog relatively as far up
above his origin as civilization has lifted man above his lowest
estate, has been due to human intercourse and the long and effective
concomitant selection of good from bad. It is hardly too much to say
that a large part of our human nature has been transferred into the
descendants of this ancient wild beast. The sense of property, a great
part of human affections, many of the attributes which constitute the
gentleman, have been passed over to him.
In considering the effects arising from the intercourse of man with the
dog, we should not overlook the development of human sympathy which has
come about through this relation. The fact that the dog has been made by
far the most sympathetic of the lower animals, is due to the affection
which men for thousands of years have given to him. In his intercourse
with this creature, man first learned to develop his altruistic motives
beyond the limits of his own kind. With this extension of his affection
must have begun the growth of that large motive, which is the most
distinguishing feature of our modern life, which leads us to go forth in
a loving manner to the living beings about us, not only to our flocks
and herds but to the life of the unsubjugated realm as well. Thus, in a
way, we may look upon the dog as affording the first steps on the path
of culture which was to lift man from his primitive selfishness to the
altruistic state to which he has attained.
Great as has been the work of man upon the dog--it deserves, indeed,
to be ranked high among all the accomplishments of his culture--there
is reason to believe that if he but go forward with understanding in
the ways which have hitherto led him blindly to his success, the
final result may be very much more perfect than that which has been
attained. It is on this account that I feel it fit to make a strong
protest against the system our breeders pursue. Except in the case of
dogs used in sport and for herding sheep, the sole effort appears to
be to create breeds which shall exhibit peculiarities of form which
are mere extravagances, and move the real lover of this noble animal
to indignation. In these preposterous and unseemly tasks no care is
taken to continue the mental development on lines which have been
established by long use. Still less is there any effort to essay the
development of the intelligence in ways which are clearly open to us,
and which afford possibilities of lifting this species to a yet
nobler companionship with our own kind.
It seems worth while for our associations of dog fanciers to undertake
to develop varieties of dogs solely with reference to the intellectual
qualities of the animal. I venture to suggest that those who seek this
end should select some of the primitive types of form, such as are
found among the undifferentiated mass of the species, those which are
improperly termed mongrels, and this for the reason that among these
unselected creatures the intelligence is quicker and more varied than
it is in the highly developed varieties. Under skilful trainers the
successive generations bred in the experimental station should be
subjected to tests which will indicate the measure of intellectual
ability. The results already attained by the unconscious selection
which man has applied serve to indicate that at the end of a century,
and perhaps in much less time, we might develop an animal which in
various ways would come to a closer intellectual relation with man than
any other lower species has attained.
Cats deserve some mention for the reason, that, while they are the least
essential, and on the whole the least interesting, of domesticated
animals, they have had a certain place in civilization. They afford,
moreover, a capital foil by which to set off the virtues of the dog.
Nowhere else, indeed, among the creatures which are intimately
associated with men, do we find two related forms which afford, along
with a certain likeness, such great diversities of quality.
We know nothing as to the time when the cat first found its way to the
associations of man. Presumably this period was much later than the
advent of the dog into the human family. The presumption rests upon the
fact that while the dog does not demand fixed residence as a condition
of its fealty, but is at home wherever his master is, the cat is the
creature of the domicile, caring more indeed for its dwelling-place than
it ever does for the inmates thereof. In a word, the creature must have
come to us after our forefathers gave up the nomadic life.
Nevertheless, the association is very ancient; it has endured in Egypt
at least for a term of several thousand years.
Among the curious features connected with the association of the cat
with man, we may note that it is the only animal which has been
tolerated, esteemed, and at times worshipped, without having a
single distinctly valuable quality. It is, in a small way,
serviceable in keeping down the excessive development of small
rodents, which from the beginning have been the self-invited guests
of man. As it is in a certain indifferent way sympathetic, and by
its caresses appears to indicate affection, it has awakened a
measure of sympathy which it hardly deserves. I have been unable to
find any authentic instances which go to show the existence in cats
of any real love for their masters.
In the matter of intelligence cats appear to rank almost as high as
dogs. They are even quicker than their canine relatives in
discerning the nature of man's artful contrivances; they readily
acquire the habit of opening doors which are closed by means of a
latch, even where it is necessary to combine the strong pull on the
handle with the push that completes the operation. Feats of this
sort are rarely if ever performed by dogs.
The most peculiar quality in the mind of cats is the intense way in
which they cling to a well-known locality. Their memory of places, and
affection for them, if we may so term it, is evidently far greater
than that which they feel for people. Some years ago I had an
interesting exhibition of this singular humor. A well-grown and
thoroughly domesticated cat, one that seemed more than usually
attached to people, was brought from my house in town to a place on
the shore. When released, the creature seemed for some days to be
nearly insane. It did not recognize any of its friends, it betook
itself to the fields, and was with difficulty captured at the end
of a week of roaming, during which it appeared to have had no food.
Confined within one room, it gradually recovered its powers of mind,
and began to take account of its friends. In the course of a month it
seemed to be reconciled to its surroundings. Nine months after its
first sojourn in the wilderness it was again brought from the town to
the same place. On the second visit the creature was somewhat uneasy,
but this passed away in a day or two. On a third visit, after a like
interval, it seemed at once and entirely at home. Nevertheless, its
habits while in the country differ very much from those it has in
town. In its original domicile it insists on being about the table at
meal-times. While in the country it does not care to be present; in
fact, it appears to avoid associations with the household. It seems
to me that this cat, after the manner of some men whose brains are
diseased, now lives in two distinct states of consciousness, each
relating to one of its places of abode.
[Illustration: Hounds Running a Wild Boar
(Showing the habit of attacking neck of prey.) ]
The differences as regards affection for localities which is shown by
cats and dogs are perhaps to be accounted for by an original and
essential variation in the habits of life in their wild ancestors.
Judging by the kindred of the species which are known to us in their
wild state, we may fairly suppose that the dogs were of old accustomed
to range over a wide field, having no fixed place of abode; the pack
ranging, if the occasion served, for hundreds of miles in any direction.
On the other hand, with the cats, it is characteristic of the species
that they have lairs to which they resort, and a definite hunting ground
in which they seek their food. They are, in a word, animals of very
determined routine. As there has been no effort by breeding to change
this feature, it has remained in all its old ingrained intensity.
As a consequence of the affection which cats have for particular places,
they often return to the wilderness when by chance the homes in which
they have been reared are abandoned. Thus in New England, in those
sections of the district where many farmsteads have of late years been
deserted, the cats have remained about their ancient haunts and have
become entirely wild. In this State they are bred in such numbers that
their presence is now a serious menace to the birds and other weaker
creatures of the country. The behavior of these feralized animals
differs somewhat from that of creatures which have never been tamed.
They have not the same immediate fear of a man, but the least effort to
approach them leads to their hasty flight.
While considering the inelastic quality which is exhibited by cats as
compared with the dog, the naturalist notes with interest the fact that
the former creature belongs to a family which has never been accustomed
to any social life beyond the limits of the family. Moreover, all the
cats have the habit of hunting in a solitary way, each for itself, in
the achievement and in the result. It is otherwise with dogs. They
belong to a group which hunts in packs. For ages they have been used to
a communal life. Their minds have thus become accustomed to social
intercourse; they are used to having their excitements of the chase in
comradeship, and generally they are accustomed to the rough-and-tumble
fraternity which we behold in a pack of wolves. It was long ago remarked
that the really social animals are those which afford the only good
material for subjugation. The difference between the cat and dog seems,
in a way, to warrant this statement.
Although it is likely that many efforts have been made to domesticate
the other larger felines, no distinct success has attended these
experiments. A large Asiatic cat known as the chetah is somewhat used
in hunting for sport, but the species has never been adopted in any
definite way. In fact, with all the larger cats, including the lion,
which is structurally a little apart from the other members of
the group, the size and furious nature of the animal have made it
impossible to begin the process of selection which has been the means
whereby the wilderness motive has been replaced by that of the
household in the case of all other domesticated beasts.
THE HORSE
Value of the Strength of the Horse to Man.--Origin of the
Horse.--Peculiar Advantage of the Solid Hoof.--Domestication of the
Horse.--How begun.--Use as a Pack Animal.--For War.--Peculiar
Advantages of the Animal for Use of Men.--Mental
Peculiarities.--Variability of Body.--Spontaneous Variations due to
Climate.--Variations of Breeds.--Effect of the Invention of
Horseshoes.--Donkeys and Mules compared with Horse.--Especial Value
of these Animals.--Diminishing Value of Horses in Modern
Civilization.--Continued Need of their Service in War.
The largest economic problem which primitive people on their way upward
towards civilization had unconsciously to face was that of obtaining
some kind of strength which could be added to the power of their own
weak limbs. For all his eminent capacities of body, man is not a strong
animal, nor is he so built that he can apply the measure of strength
that is in him to good advantage. There are scores if not hundreds
of species with which he came in contact in his effort to dominate
nature that are stronger, swifter, and better provided with natural
weapons. With the first step upward, as in almost all the succeeding
steps, the advance depended on securing more energy than that with
which our kind was directly endowed. It is hardly too much to say
that the progress of mankind beyond the savage state would probably
never have been effected but for the bodily help which has been
rendered by a few domesticated animals.
From the point of view of the student of domesticated animals the races
of men may well be divided into those which have and those which have
not the use of the horse. Although there are half a score of other
animals which have done much for man, which have indeed stamped
themselves upon his history, no other creature has been so inseparably
associated with the great triumphs of our kind, whether won on the
battle-field or in the arts of peace. So far as material comfort, or
even wealth, is concerned, we of the northern realms and present age
could, perhaps, better spare the horse from our present life than
either sheep or horned cattle; but without this creature it is certain
that our civilization would never have developed in anything like its
present form. Lacking the help which the horse gives, it is almost
certain that, even now, it could not be maintained.
We know the ancient natural history of the horse more completely than
that of any other of our domesticated animals. We can trace the steps
by which its singularly strong limbs and feet, on which rests its value
to man, were formed in the great laboratory of geologic time. The story
is so closely related to the interests of man that it will be well
briefly to set it before the reader. In the first stages of the
Tertiary period, in the age when we begin to trace the evolution of the
suck-giving animals above the lowly grade in which the kangaroos and
opossums belong, we find the ancestors of our mammalian series all
characterized by rather weakly organized limbs fitted, as were those of
their remoter kindred the marsupials, for tree climbing rather than for
moving over the surface of the ground. The fact is, that all the
creatures of this great clan acquired their properties of body in
arboreal life, and with such relatively small and light bodies as were
fitted for tree climbing. For this use the feet need to be
loose-jointed, and so the system of five toes, each terminating in a
sharp and strong nail or claw, became fixed in the inheritances. When,
gaining strength and coming to possess a more important place in the
world, these ancient tree-dwellers were able to occupy the ground which
of old had been possessed by the great reptiles, the limbs that had
served well for an arboreal life had to undergo many changes in order
to fit them for progression in the new realm.
If we watch the progress of a bear over the surface of the ground, we
readily perceive how lumbering is its gait and how poor the speed which
it attains. Its slow and shambling movement is due to the fact that it
has the tree-climbing foot, and is not well fitted for motion such as is
required in running. To attain anything like speed in this exercise it
is necessary to support the body on the tips of the toes. Every man who
has gained any skill in this art knows full well how incompetent he is
if he tries to run with rapidity in the flat-footed manner. The bear
cannot essay this method of progression on the toe-tips because its
loose-jointed feet cannot be made to support its heavy body. In this way
arose the necessity of developing a peculiar kind of foot when that part
had to serve for rapid locomotion. The experiments to this end have been
numerous and varied. Thus in the elephants, which retain the originally
numerous toes, the bones of these members are planted in an upright
position and tied together with such strong muscles and sinews, that the
foot parts have something like the solidity and strength of the upper
portions of the legs. In the single-hoofed or horse-like forms, and in
the cloven-footed animals, other series of experiments have been tried
which in the end have proved most successful, giving us animals with the
speediest movements of any animals except the creatures of the air.
[Illustration: A Hunter]
The success which has been attained in our ordinary large herbivora, and
which has made them competent to evade the chase of the beasts of prey,
has been accomplished by reducing the number of the toes, giving the
strength of the aborted parts to increase the power of those remaining.
The result is the formation of two great groups, the double-hoofed
forms, including the pigs, deer, cattle, sheep, and their kindred, and
the single-toed species, of which our horse is the foremost example. In
the reduction of the number of toes, different plans were followed in
each of these groups. In the cloven-hoofed forms, a single toe first
disappeared, leaving but four; then the two outer of these were aborted,
leaving two nearly equal digits. In the series of the horse, where we
can trace the change more clearly, we find the earliest form five-toed,
but the outer and inner digit shrunken so as to become of little use.
This condition of the creature in the early Tertiaries gives us the
beginning of the equine series, and shows that far away as the creature
is now from ourselves, it originated from the main stem of mammalian
life, from which our own forms have sprung. In the next higher stage in
time, and likewise in development, we find these lessened toes at their
vanishing point, and two of the remaining digits, lying on either side
of what corresponds to the middle finger in our own hands, beginning to
shrink in length and volume, while the central toe becomes larger and
stronger than before. Last in the series we come to our ordinary equine
form, in which nothing is left but the single massive extremity, though
the remnants of two of the toes can be traced in the form of slender
bones known as splints, which are altogether enclosed within the skin
which wraps the region about the fetlock joints.