The elephant of Africa is still a tolerably abundant animal. Its

numbers, though doubtless diminished by more than one-half within this

century, are probably to be counted by the hundred thousand.

Nevertheless, in less than a hundred years the field which they occupied

has been greatly reduced; and between the ivory hunter and the sportsman

of our brutal race armed with guns of ever-increasing deadliness, it

will certainly not require another century of free shooting to

annihilate the African species. In view of the present condition of the

life of these noble beasts, it seems in a high measure desirable that a

thorough-going effort should be made to extend the domestication to the

point where the form will not only be won from the wilds, but will be a

permanent element in our civilization, in the manner of our common

flocks and herds. It will be an enduring shame if, by neglect of our

opportunities, the utmost is not done to attain this end. It appears fit

that this task should be undertaken by the British Government, which in

modern days has displayed a skill and forethought in the administration

of its Indian provinces unexampled in the history of colonies. Owing to

the slow breeding-rate of the elephant, it may require more than a

century for experiments to attain any definite result, so that the task

is clearly beyond the limits of individual endeavor.

Among the humbler helpers of man, the pig holds an important place. He

has had no small share in the betterment of the estate of his masters.

One of the large questions which beset men in their unconscious

endeavors to lay the foundations of civilization was that of

food-supply. No sooner does a population become sedentary than the

wildernesses about its dwelling-place are rapidly cleared of the large

game, so that the chase affords but little save amusement. Therefore a

provision in the way of meat has to be obtained from domesticated

animals. The flocks and herds supply this need, though in a costly way.

Sheep have a value for their wool; horned cattle develop slowly, and

are, moreover valuable, the oxen for their strength and the cows for

their milk. Horses are too valuable to be used for food, save in times

of exceeding stress; and none but the lowest savages are willing to send

their faithful dogs to the pot. From the beginning of his experience

with man the pig has been found the cheapest and most serviceable

domesticated animal as a source of food-supply.

We can trace the origin of our domesticated pigs more clearly than in

the case of the most of the other subjugated animals. The creature is

evidently descended from the wild boar of Europe and Asia; and though

long under domestication and greatly varied from its primitive stock,

it readily reverts to something like its original form when allowed to

betake itself once more to the wilds. The domestication of the species

appears to have been accomplished at several different points in Asia

and Europe. The forms which are found in eastern Asia differ from those

which are kept in the western portion of the great continent, and may

have their blood commingled with that of another species which is

native in that part of the world.

Among our domesticated animals the pig is exceptional in the fact that

it has been bred for its flesh alone; for although the hide is

valuable and the hair serves certain purposes, as in the manufacture

of brushes, these uses are only incidental and modern. They have not

affected the plan of the breeder, whose aim has been to produce the

largest weight of flesh in the shortest time, and with the least

expenditure of food. In this peculiar task the success has been

remarkable, the creature having been made to vary from its primitive

condition in an extraordinary manner. In its wild state the species

develops slowly, requiring, perhaps, three or four years to attain its

maximum size. It never becomes very fat, but remains an agile,

swift-footed, and fierce tenant of the wilds. Under the conditions of

subjugation the pig has been brought to a state in which its qualities

of mind and body have undergone a very great change. In the more

developed breeds, even the males, when kept about the barnyard, are

quiet-natured and not at all dangerous. The creatures have become

slow-moving; they attain their full development in about half the time

required for the growth of their wild kindred, and when adult they may

outweigh them in the ratio of four to one.

The effect arising from the food-supply which our pigs afford is well

seen in the use which is made of their flesh in all the ruder work of

men, at least in the case of those of our race. Our soldiers and

sailors are to a great extent fed on the flesh of these creatures,

which lends itself readily to preservation by the use of salt. So

rapidly can these animals be bred, owing to the number of young which

they produce in a litter and the swiftness of their growth, that

sudden demands for an increase in the supply, such as occurred at the

outbreak of our civil war, can quickly be met. If the need should

arise, the quantity of pork produced in this country could readily be

doubled within eighteen months. This is the case with no other source

of flesh-supply, and this fact gives the pig a peculiar importance.

Owing to the remarkably complete domestication of this animal, and

also to the fact that it is omnivorous, the creature has ever been a

favorite with the cotter class. Those folk, who can afford neither

sheep nor horned cattle, can often provide the food for pigs, and

thus, in turn, be much better fed than they would otherwise be.

It is only within two centuries that our pigs have attained to

anything like the domestication in which we commonly find them. Of old

they were allowed to range the forests, much as they do in certain

parts of our Southern States at the present day. In some parts of

Europe, particularly in the southern portion of the continent, this

method of rearing and feeding is still common. It was and is

advantageous, for the reason that the creature, by its remarkably keen

sense of smelling and its singular capacity for overturning the

ground, is able to provide itself with abundant food in the way of

grubs and roots which are not at the disposition of any other animal.

It was only as the public forests disappeared that pigs came to

receive any considerable part of their provender from the products of

tilled fields. In this stage of our agriculture, when all the land was

possessed, the life of the pig was necessarily more restricted, and he

became the denizen of a pen. In the earlier state there was no cost

for his keeping; in the latter, except so far as he could be fed from

the waste of a household, he is an expensive animal.

It is with this last state of the pig, when he became the most housed

of our domesticated animals, that the work of the breeder really

began. The aim of those who have developed the pig has been, as we

have said, to obtain the most rapid growth along with the greatest

weight of fat, and to accomplish the results with the least

expenditure in the way of food. Although the animal has been subjected

to selective experiments, looking to these ends, for not more than a

century, or say about forty generations of the species, the amount of

variation which has been attained is singularly great, the form and

habits having been changed more rapidly, and in a larger measure, than

in the case of any other of our domesticated animals. It may fairly be

said that this creature is more obedient to the will of the practical

selectionist than any other with which we have experimented.

It is commonly assumed that our pigs are among the least intelligent

of the creatures which man has turned to his use. This impression is

due to the fact that the conditions in which these animals are kept

insure their degradation by cutting them off from all the natural

mental training which wild animals, as well as the other tenants of

the fields, receive. In the state of nature or in the condition of

domestication which existed before pigs became captives in their

pens, they were among the most alert and sagacious animals with which

man has come in contact. Their wits were quick and their sympathies

with their kind remarkably strong. Trainers have found these

creatures more apt in receiving instruction than any other of our

mammals, and the things which they can be made to do appear to

indicate a native intelligence nearer to that of man than is found in

any other species below the level of the apes.

As there is little in the books of anecdotes of animals concerning

pigs, I venture to give an account of a learned individual of this

species whose performances I had an opportunity of observing in much

detail. The creature, an ordinary specimen about three years old, had

been trained by a peasant in the mountain district of Virginia who

made his living by instructing animals for show purposes. He stated

that in selecting pigs for education it was his practice to choose

those characterized by a considerable width between the eyes and

whose skulls projected in this part of their periphery to a more than

usual degree. He said that from many experiments he was satisfied

that there was a very great difference in the capacity of the animals

to receive training, and that the above-mentioned indices afforded

him sufficient guidance in his choice.

In the exhibition about to be described there were but three persons

present, myself, another spectator, and the showman. A score of cards

were placed upon the ground, each bearing a numeral or the name of

some distinguished person. These cards were in perfect disorder. I was

allowed, indeed, repeatedly to change their position and to mix them

up as I pleased. The pig was then told to pick out the name of Abraham

Lincoln and bring it to his master. This he readily did. He was asked

in what year Lincoln was assassinated. He slowly but without

correction brought one by one the appropriate numerals and put them on

the ground in due order. Half a dozen other questions concerning names

and dates were answered in a similar way. Each success was rewarded

with a grain of corn, and for his failures the creature received a

reasonable drubbing. It was evident that the animal had to consider in

making his choice of the cards. At times he was evidently much puzzled

and would indicate his perplexity by squealing.

It seemed clear that the master of this learned pig did not guide the

movements of the animal by other indications than words. The questions,

in some cases, had to be reiterated in a loud voice in order to insure

attention. Several times during the performance the pig rebelled, broke

from the tent, and was with difficulty recaptured. The creature

disliked this task in the manner of a lazy school-boy, and at the end

of an hour of exercises seemed utterly overcome by his labor. He ran

into the box where he was ordinarily confined, and when dragged forth,

neither rewards nor punishments would quicken him to further work.

The above-described exhibition made it plain to me that the pig can be

taught to understand a certain amount of human speech and to associate

memories with phrases substantially as we do ourselves. It is perfectly

clear that the performance which I witnessed was not a mere routine

action, for I had a number of questions asked over again so as to make

it sure that the creature acted with reference to each separate inquiry.

The behavior of the animal during the performance seemed clearly to

indicate mental effort and not mere automatic memory. His attitude when

trying to determine which of two cards to take distinctly showed that he

was intently viewing the figures and endeavoring to come to a decision.

I am aware it has been suggested that learned pigs discriminate between

the cards by peculiarities of odor which have been given to these bits

of paper. I sought carefully to find if such was the case, and though I

have a very keen sense of smell I found nothing which led me to suspect

that this device was used. Even if such were the case, the rationality

of the animal's action would be none the less clear. The showman assured

me that he never used any such means in training pigs. He seemed,

indeed, to treat the suggestion with contempt.

Although experiments in the training of pigs show that they have rather

remarkable intellectual capacities, the most human feature in their

mental organization is found in the keen sympathy which they exhibit

with the sufferings of their own kind and the willingness with which

they encounter danger in protecting their comrades. It usually requires

close observation for the naturalist to determine the existence of this

motive among the other wild or domesticated mammals. In fact, the

traces of it are very slight indeed, and are generally to be

attributed to the care of parents for offspring or of the males for

their harem--a disposition which, though akin to the defence of the

kind, is nevertheless of a special and peculiar nature. Even among our

domestic dogs, whose sympathies have been developed in a remarkable

degree and who will sacrifice their lives to defend or rescue the

human beings with whom they are familiar, there appears to be but

little disposition to support members of their species who may be

assailed. With pigs, however, as is well known to all those who have

observed their habits, the characteristic cry of distress of their

fellows proves very exciting and stimulates all the adults, both male

and female, who hear it to hasten in defence of their kinsmen. It is a

noteworthy fact that while most other animals when in danger utter no

distinct or continuous cry, the pig gives voice in a vociferous and

insistent manner, as if he had a right to expect the sympathy and help

of his species. The cry goes with the custom of defence which in this

species has attained a better foundation in the sympathetic motives

than in any other mammal below the level of man.

It is perhaps due to their relatively high intellectual organization

that the excessively domesticated pigs are liable to suffer from

attacks of mania. This is most commonly exhibited by the sows, which at

times will destroy their young shortly after they are born. The sight

of their progeny seems to infuriate them in a curious manner. One sow

which I owned killed three successive litters; another fine animal of

the Berkshire breed, a very amiable, indeed affectionate, creature, was

carefully watched at the time she first bore young, precautions being

taken to prevent her from harming them; she would willingly allow them

to suckle, provided she did not see them, but the moment she laid her

eyes upon them she was seized with the strange fury.

Although this singular perversion of the natural instincts of maternity

sometimes occurs among the pigs which are allowed to roam together in

herds, it seems to be far more common in those conditions where the

animals are confined in pens without contact with their kind, and where

they have no chance to recognize the young as members of their species

or to acquire that interest in them which they would gain in the

society of the herd. It is also clear that this maniacal habit is

inherited; according to my observation it is common among the

Berkshire, and relatively rare in other less specialized varieties.

The intelligence of the pig is also shown in the readiness with which

the creature changes its habits to meet varied environments. Thus the

pigs which range the woods in the western and southern parts of the

United States have learned to catch the crawfish which abounds in the

shallow streams in those parts of this country. They will wade up a

brook, turning over the stones and driftwood as they go, catching with

a quick movement the crustaceans which they have thus dislodged from

their cover. Along the shores of the Bay of Fundy, the pigs, accustomed

to follow the tide out, picking the chance food which is thus exposed

to them, have learned carefully to avoid the risk of being caught by

the returning waters. With the first splash of the turning tide they

hasten inshore until they have attained safe ground.

One of the best evidences of the mental state of these animals is

found in their actions when assailed by dogs or other beasts of prey.

Pigs, though wary and sensible of danger, seem exempt from the

extreme fear which leads to panic, and fight, even before being

brought to bay by long chasing, in a discreet and valiant manner.

Where a number of them are attacked by dogs or other enemies, they

will form a circle with their heads out, each supporting the other

in such a manner that the ring cannot readily be broken. Their

thick-skinned forequarters and stout tusks provide them with

excellent instruments with which to resist an assault.

The sagacity of the pigs is probably, in part at least, to be

attributed to the fact that in their native state they are communal

animals, all the species of their family being accustomed to live

gregariously, so that for ages they have had the training which every

social organization, however simple, affords. They are, moreover,

omnivorous feeders, accustomed to subsist on a great variety of

food--a habit which seems in all cases to promote the development

of the intelligence in animals.

Although the pigs by their nature afforded the best opportunity for

developing an intellectual animal which has come to us through our

domesticated creatures, no effort whatever has been made by selection to

develop the latent mental capacities of this species. It is perhaps the

only form of those which man has subjugated which by his treatment he

tends to degrade. In the time to come, when men will be held to a better

accountability for the treatment of their captives, the condition of

these animals will afford a fair field for the reformer's care.

The geologist who is acquainted with the mammalian life of the Middle

Tertiary period readily notes the fact that the variety in genera and

species appears to be much greater than it is at the present time. A

great number of forms, differing somewhat widely from those now in

existence, then abounded in the Americas and the Old World. It may at

first sight seem unfortunate that man did not have the chance to essay

his domesticative arts on that older and apparently richer life. A

closer examination, however, leads us to see that the species of that

time, though more numerous than those of the present, were on the whole

less fitted for our use than the fewer but more completely

differentiated kinds with which we have had to deal. The multitude of

kinds which we find in the Mesozoic period indicates that the life was

in a state more experimental than that to which it has attained. A host

of forms on their way towards the specialization which has now been

attained have been removed from the sphere, in the manner of a

scaffolding from a completed structure. That which has been left remains

because it has successfully accomplished the task of reconciliation with

environment, or, in simpler phrase, because it has learned to do things

which were useful and profitable in a more perfect manner.

As an illustration of the fact that the animals of to-day are better

fitted to be the help-meets of man than were their ancestors of an

earlier time, we may note the state of the horse at the time when that

genus was undergoing its development in the region about the upper

waters of the Missouri. As may be imagined, the long and difficult

passage from the five-toed to the single-toed form was slowly

accomplished, and to its doing went a great many temporary forms, which

served, we may say, as stepping-stones for the ongoing. So far as we can

judge, these intermediate forms were small, rather frail creatures,

which probably could not have been made to serve any purpose useful to

man. It was not until the mechanical system of the large single toe with

the wonderfully developed nail, which makes up the foot and hoof of the

horse, had been attained, that the creature becomes fit for the

wonderful work we have persuaded him to do in our civilization.

A comparison of the skulls of the Tertiary mammals and those of our own

day indicates that in certain of the important series, and presumably in

them all, the brain has increased in size from the earlier to the later

times. This increase in brain capacity has doubtless been attended by a

decided gain in the measure of intelligence, a gain which has doubtless

served to make the modern representatives of the series fitter for man's

use than their ancestors were. For, while the number of our very useful

domesticated forms may seem at first sight to be dull of wit, none of

them are really low in the intellectual scale as we apply it to the

brute; in fact, a considerable measure of intelligence is absolutely

required as a condition for true subjugation. This is seen by the fact

that nothing like a real adoption into our social system has ever been

accomplished except with a few of the higher orders of mammals and

birds, species which have an intellectual capacity that we recognize as

akin to our own. Thus, so far as we can see, man's appearance on this

stage was, so far as it relates to the possibility of companionship with

the lower life, exceedingly well timed. He came at a period when the

life was ready to give him and to receive from him a large measure of

help. If his advent had been much earlier, he might have had less

trouble in his contests with the larger carnivora; but if there had been

a lack of beasts to obey his will, it is doubtful whether he could

himself have won his way above that primitive life.

DOMESTICATED BIRDS

Domestication of Animals mainly accomplished by the Aryan Race;

Small Amount of Such Work by American Indians.--Barnyard Fowl:

Mental Qualities; Habits of Combat.--Peacocks: their Limited

Domestication.--Turkeys: their Origin; tending to revert to the

Savage State.--Water Fowl: Limited Number of Species domesticated;

Intellectual Qualities of this Group.--The Pigeon: Origin and

History of Group; Marvels of Breeding.--Song Birds.--Hawks and

Hawking.--Sympathetic Motive of Birds: their AEsthetic Sense;

their Capacity for Enjoyment.

It is an interesting fact that about all the work of domestication which

has been done by man has been accomplished by the peoples of Asia and

mainly by the Aryan race. The American Indians tamed the llama and

alpaca and a few species of native plants; even where their habits were

prevailingly sedentary they domesticated no birds. It was left for

Europeans to make use of the wild turkey. Our primitive people had the

same chance to tame ducks and geese as the folk of the Old World. They

appear, however, to have lacked all capacity for such endeavors. The

same lack of disposition to capture and tame wild creatures is

noticeable among the characteristic peoples of Africa; all of which

serves to show that the domesticating art, at least as applied to

animals, is peculiar to the higher-grade folk of the Old World.

Of all the birds which have been domesticated, our common barnyard fowl

has been by far the most useful to man. It has become in a way

interwoven with his life to a degree found only in a few of our barnyard

animals. Next after the pigeons and the pigs it has been most deeply

impressed by the breeder's art. The wild species whence it sprang is a

small creature, laying but few eggs and with but a slight tendency to

accumulate fat. From this parent stock varieties have been bred which

attain in some cases to eight or ten times the weight of the ancient

form. They have, moreover, lost the fierce combative spirit which

characterizes their ancestors and which by selection has been preserved

and intensified in our breeds of game-cocks.

[Illustration: The Original Jungle Fowl (_Gallus bankiva_)

and Some of His Domestic Descendants]

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