In a large way the work of domestication represents one of the modes

of action of that sympathetic motive which more than any other has

been the basis of the highest development of mankind. Ordinary men of

the low grade are content to slay, or otherwise rudely gain what value

they find in the wild creatures. Only the higher grades of men

perceive much of the charm in the inhabitants of the wilderness, or

desire to win them to their homes. If our conquests from the wilds

were limited to the grossly profitable life alone, we might say that

interest only had determined the work of subjugation; but as soon as

men escape from their primitive state, even while in their general

motives they are still essentially barbarians, they cultivate flowers

and derive a keen pleasure from their company. They domesticate birds

which are valuable only for the pleasures which their presence lends

to human abodes. This action clearly shows that the element of

sympathy, that love for the other life which in any way fixes the

attention, has had much to do with this work of bringing other beings

into association with our own lives.

Not only is the motive which has led our race to such extensive

conquests over the wild nature in itself sympathetic, but the

process of winning these creatures from the wilderness has served

effectively to extend and amplify this same impulse. One of the best

features of agricultural life consists in the great amount of

care-taking which it imposes upon its followers. The ordinary farmer

has to enter into more or less sympathetic relations with half a

score of animal species and many kinds of plants. His life, indeed,

is devoted to ceaseless friendly relations with these creatures which

live or die at his will. In this task his ancient savage impulses are

slowly worn away, and in their place comes the enduring kindliness of

cultivated men. When we compare the state of mind of the hunter with

that of the care-taking soil-tiller, we see the vast scope and

influence which this work of domestication has effected in our kind.

To it perhaps more than to any other cause we must attribute the

civilizable and the civilized state of mind.

Although no discreet person will venture to determine the relative

weight which should be given to the influences which have made for

civilization, there can be no doubt that the care of domesticated

animals has been one of the most potent of these agents. Not only has

this employment served to develop the motives of care-taking that

result in the postponement of the momentary satisfaction of indolence

or of hunger for the prospect of security or wealth to come, but it

has served to arouse and broaden the sympathies given men, that

humane spirit without which the best of our higher culture cannot be

attained. If this view be correct, we may find in it a good reason

for regretting the increasing development of cities, a reason which

is more definite than the most of those which have been urged against

the growth of great towns. Statistics seem to indicate that people

are as healthy, as long lived, and on the whole no more given to vice

and crime in a well-ordered urban life than they are on the farms. It

is certainly easier to give them the formal education of the schools

in the dense than in the scattered condition. There can be no doubt,

however, that the practically complete separation of the most of our

cities from all educative contact with the ancient companions and

helpers of men brings about an omission of an element in culture that

may entail serious consequences.

The question arises as to what can be done to diminish the evils

which come from the total separation of a large part of our people

from the humanizing influences due to the care of animals. How

general this separation is may be judged from the fact that so far as

I have been able to find in the manufacturing towns of Massachusetts

not one child in thirty ever knew what it is to care for any

creature, save those of its kind. And even in a well-conditioned

place like Cambridge, the proportion of those who have any educative

contact with animals probably does not exceed one in fifteen. I do

not reckon the mere chance playing with a dog or cat as serving the

need; the real service is when the person has a sense of

responsibility for the life of the animal. To bring about this

relation in the ordinary conditions of a town is usually impossible.

Something can, however, be accomplished by various expedients.

In the lowest state of townspeople it is out of the question to give

the children any pets whatever. Even caged birds cannot or should not

be accommodated in the cheaper grade of lodging-houses. Wherever the

animals are in separate houses it is often possible for children to

have some contact with sympathetic animal life. In these conditions,

our cocks and hens are the best creatures to rear. They are the most

attractive of all our domesticated birds; they do better than any

other forms of economic value in narrow conditions, and, what is of

importance for the end in view, they contribute a share of food, so

that a boy may have from them some experience with the economic

relation of animals to men.

Some persons who have observed the advancing process of destruction of

the natural world may have been brought to consider the change as in the

necessary and inevitable order which comes with the higher development

of man. They may welcome--indeed, some evidently do welcome--the chance

that the ancient system may utterly disappear, and all the earth become

fields and garden places tenanted only by those forms that man may have

chosen to be his companions. To many people who have a keen impression

as to the importance of man in the great economy, and no clear sense of

his relation to the natural order, this possibility is doubtless

attractive. It is not so to those who have gained a clear idea of the

place of man and the conditions of his ongoing.

There is reason to expect that the modern gains in the cheapness and

speed of transportation may before long bring about a material change in

the housing of the laboring classes of our cities, so that they may be

able to dwell in somewhat rural conditions. In this way we may hope to

see these people once again brought where they may receive a fuller

share of the influences which have served so well to lift our race to

its elevated moral station. Working to the same end is the spirit which

is leading many manufacturers to place their establishments in the

country, where they can control the mode of life of the employees and

their families. Against the growth of the factory towns with their

sordid conditions, we may with pleasure set these rural workshops where

the capitalists are doing the best they can to better the mode of living

of the people who are under their charge. In this good work it may well

be possible to include a share of contact with the soil and with

domesticated animals. In this system of isolated factories we may

perhaps hope to find the way out of the perplexities which the present

condition of our industries have imposed on our civilization.

Up to our present half-century the process of winning animals and plants

to domestication, and of improving them after they had been thus won,

has been in its nature a matter of haphazard. Here and there, as men

have seen creatures which promised in captivity to afford either

pleasure or profit, they have endeavored to convert them to use. In some

cases the effort has been made with some patience and steadfastness of

purpose. If the creature yielded quickly to the needs of a new life

which it was sought to impose upon him, he became a member of man's

family. If its wilderness motives were strong, the effort to domesticate

was soon abandoned. The greater part of these efforts to win animals and

plants into alliance with our race have been made with the creatures

which were native in the wildernesses about our ancestral

dwelling-places. Occasionally from distant lands important gains have

been made, especially among the food-giving plants; but all the animals

of any importance which have been adopted by the Aryan people were

originally natives of the lands in which that race has dwelt.

It is a remarkable fact that no sooner does a wild animal or plant

become intimately associated with man, than it at once departs more or

less widely from its ancient type. Our conquests from the vegetable

world have to a great extent so far lost their original character that

we can no longer determine the species from which they sprang. Botanists

cannot find the wild forms which have given us the cabbage, wheat, and

most other small grains, and a host of other important varieties. So,

too, the origin of our dogs is as yet unsolved and bids fair ever to

remain a mystery. In addition to this changed character which we observe

in the forms of domesticated animals and plants alike, we note that the

mental characteristics of the former undergo vast alterations. The

creatures, in a way, take the tone of civilization, and to a great

extent abandon those ancient habits of fear and rage which were

essential to their life in the wilderness. The intellectual condition of

our dogs shows us that the creatures may be progressively educated--in a

word, that man may put into them something of his human quality. In the

case of the dog, the longest possessed and most familiar to our

households of all our captives, the mental change which has come, partly

by selection, from association with man has gone so far that the species

may be fairly said to have replaced its pristine motives with those

which it has derived from ourselves. In many cases it has become, so far

as its ways are concerned, even more man than dog.

Although the physical and mental educability of animals when brought

into companionship with man is an old subject of remark, and one of the

most interesting features which they exhibit, it was not until the

doctrine of descent by variation of species from other related forms

became established, that we had a chance to see the vast possibilities

of accomplishment which are presented to us by our domesticated

creatures. It is true that the breeder's art is old and that men have

felt the subjugated animals to be almost like clay in the potter's

hands, but except in a small and rather careless way with the dogs,

little attention has been given to the development of the intelligence

of these captives. The success which we have obtained with this animal

has been accomplished by a selective process, but one which has been

almost as blind in its operation as the choice which acts in the natural

world. For thousands of years men have preferred the dogs which

manifested a sympathy with them, and the result is a creature which,

though derived from a very brutal ancestry, has in its way as intense

affections as human beings. Now and then they have chosen deliberately

to develop some mental peculiarity of the animal which would be of

service in hunting, and the effect of this care is to be noted in the

considerable variety and perfection of mental development which the

sporting dogs exhibit. In the main, however, the interest of our dog

fanciers has been limited to the physical features of the species;

nothing like a deliberate effort to ascertain how far the development of

their mental parts could be carried has ever been essayed. In no other

field of human endeavor of anything like equal importance has there been

so little understanding applied to the tasks.

Now that we are beginning to know something of the laws of inheritance,

it is high time for us deliberately to consider what our relations to

the organic world are hereafter to be, and how we can guide ourselves in

these relations by the light of modern learning. It is in the first

place clear that the subjugation of the earth which necessarily

accompanies the development of civilization, inevitably tends to sweep

away a large part of the organic life which is not adopted and

protected by man. Already, with the mere beginnings of this culture, we

find that several of the large beasts and birds and a number of plants

have been destroyed. New as civilization is on this continent, it has

already brought the moose and the buffalo to a point where they are on

the verge of extinction, and in the Old World the wild ancestors of the

horse and the bull have quite disappeared from the wildernesses. Within

a few centuries the greater birds, the Dinornis and Epiornis, as well as

the interesting Dodo, have vanished from the southern isles which they

inhabited. In the century to come we can foresee that this process of

effacement of the ancient life will go on with accelerated velocity.

It seems inevitable that man should play the part of a destroyer. It is

his place to break down the ancient order determined by what we call

natural forces and in its stead to set a new accord in which the economy

of the earth will be in a great measure controlled by his intelligence.

Even those who most keenly sympathize with the wilderness life, are not

likely to object to the changes which are necessary to open the way for

this new dispensation. They may fairly ask, however, that hereafter the

displacement of the ancient life shall be brought about with foresight

and with the exercise of the utmost care in minimizing the sacrifices

which we are called on to make. Naturalists may fairly ask men to

remember that each of these species which we are forced to destroy

represents the toil and pains of unimaginable ages, and that when these

creatures are swept away they can never be recovered. Whatever new

species may come, by processes of evolution from the life which remains

after we have done our will with the wilderness, we shall never see

again the forms which have passed away.

It is the worst feature of the destruction which man is bringing upon

the organic species that the assault is most effective on those

varieties which are most interesting both from an intellectual and an

economic point of view. To take only the case of the great birds which

have recently been swept from the earth, we see clearly that we have

with them lost precious opportunities for enlarging our understanding of

nature and have at the same time been deprived of the chance to

domesticate creatures which would most likely have proved of much

economic value. With each of these species which disappears we lose what

may be a precious chance of adding to the small store of animals or

plants which may contribute to the well being of our kind. These

considerations make it plain that it is our duty by our civilization, to

do all in our power to save these species and at the same time to essay

their domestication, for only when under the protection of man can they

be regarded as insured from destruction.

The task of bringing wild creatures into our domestic fold is one of

very varied difficulty. Many plants are easily reconciled to the

conditions of our fields and gardens: they may be said to welcome the

care of man which insures them some protection from the fierce

contention with other life or with the elements to which they are

exposed in their natural conditions. Only here and there is it necessary

by careful breeding to develop domesticated habits to the point where

the forms will endure culture. Where the task is, however, to make avail

of some natural peculiarity which promises to be useful, but is not yet

of economic value, it may require a hundred generations of careful

selection to develop and fix desirable features. We are, however, in all

cases sure in these half-animate species, the plants, that they will

prove perfectly obedient to our will. It is otherwise, however, with

wild animals. Here we have to deal with intelligences in which the most

striking characteristic is an abiding fear of the master, and a general

indisposition to submit to any other control than that of their native

wild instincts. The measure in which this wilderness habit, bred of long

contention with enemies, prevails in animals varies greatly. Some, as

for instance the elephant, at once reconcile themselves to human

association, and directly on being made slaves accept the mastery of

their captors. Others, such as the zebra, remain for a lifetime

possessed of their original savage nature. A large part of the labor

which has been given to the work of domesticating by the breeder's art

the score of mammalian species which man has won to his use has been

devoted to this task of expelling the wilderness motives from these

forms. The cases in which he has failed to accomplish this end are those

in which the savage humor has persisted for so long a time that he has

been forced to abandon his effort to subdue the stock.

It seems likely that at the present time we have acquired from the

wilderness nearly all the animals which are capable of adoption by

such brief and individual experiments as have won to us the species

which constitute our flocks and herds. Our future gains will have to

be made by far more deliberate and continuous endeavors. These tasks

of the hereafter will have to be undertaken in a way which will insure

a continuity of effort such as can only be attained by permanently

organized associations which may continue their essays if needs be for

centuries. The work should be done with two distinct ends in view:

first, to determine what members of the wilderness life may be made

to contribute to the needs of man; and, second, how far it is possible

so to develop the intelligence of the lower animals in general as to

make them better fitted for companionship with our kind. This

last-named line of experiments needs to be undertaken not only with

reference to varieties now wild, but also upon our most domesticated

forms, for, as before remarked, we have not begun to explore the

possibilities of intellectual gain, even in those species which have

been the longest associated with us.

In considering a list of the creatures which might well be made the

subjects of trial with a view to their domestication, we find ourselves

at once embarrassed by the exceeding wealth of our opportunities. It is

impossible within the limits of this article to treat, even in the

catalogue way, a vast number of forms which commend themselves for

experiment. Something of the richness of the field, however, may be

judged by noting some of the more conspicuous forms, as we shall now

proceed to do. Beginning with the insects, the lowest forms in the

animal series which have proved in any sense domesticable, we note that

wide as is this realm of life it offers but few opportunities such as

the domesticator seeks. Of the million or more species in the group,

only two, the honey-bee and the silkworm, have been won to man's use,

and there is not another wild form which the naturalist can suggest as

likely to prove a valuable captive. The only use which we are probably

to find for these creatures is where, by some form of culture, we may

induce predatory or parasitic species more effectively to do their

destructive work on noxious forms of the class. So well fitted is this

group for purposes of self-defence that however much man may interfere

with the course of nature, he is not likely to sweep any of their

multitudinous kinds from the earth, though experience clearly shows that

by the methods above mentioned they may be greatly reduced.

It is among the vertebrate forms alone that we find animals which by

their characteristics of body or of mind are well fitted to have an

economic or social value. There alone are the qualities of flesh or of

the external covering such as to make them in a high measure valuable,

and the instincts of a nature to fit them for association in man's work.

Even among these back-boned animals we find that the lower groups--the

fishes, the amphibians, and the reptiles--promise little in the way of

gains as compared with the higher groups, the birds and mammals; yet

even among these inferior creatures we find certain forms which give

promise of improvement under the care of man. Some of the fishes readily

learn to come to any one from whom they may expect food, and they

indicate in other ways that they are capable of a certain intellectual

advance. The frogs and toads readily learn to recognize a master.

Several of the larger members of the first-named forms could

advantageously be bred so as to be very useful as food. The common hop

toad of our gardens is an admirable helper in restraining the excessive

development of certain slugs and insects. The tortoises and turtles

contain a number of species which are edible, and many of the forms

invite the breeder's care. It is, however, when we ascend in the type of

vertebrates to the level of the birds that we find the great array of

creatures which are worth considering as members of our civilization.

Nearly all the birds except those of prey and those which haunt the

seas can easily be accustomed to man. A few of these species which

have been reduced to captivity have not become sufficiently reconciled

to the unnatural conditions to maintain their breeding habits. Even in

these cases, however, it seems likely that in spacious aviaries, at

least in climates to which they are accustomed, it will be possible to

secure the continuous reproduction of the kind, on which all

development by the breeder's art depends.

The ease with which most birds, except those of prey, may be reduced to

domestication is due to the remarkable intensity of their sympathetic

motives. In this regard the class is much more advanced than that of the

mammalia to which we ourselves belong. Accustomed as they are to

ceaseless and active intercourse with each other by means of their

varied calls, largely endowed with the faculty of attention, and

provided with fairly retentive memories, the birds are, on the average,

nearer in the qualities of their intelligence to man than are many of

the species in his own class. It was long ago remarked that the birds of

remote islands, such as the Galapagos, which had never seen man, were at

first not in the least afraid of him. It required, however, but a few

generations of experience to show these creatures that the unfeathered

biped was a singularly dangerous animal, and they at once and

permanently adopted the habit of avoiding him. This incident of itself

shows how quick birds are to learn certain large and important lessons.

We see also the reverse of this education in fear in the rapid way in

which birds become tame when they are secured from persecution. Wherever

shooting is stopped over a considerable territory the birds rapidly

become more tolerant of man's presence. Even among migratory species the

individuals appear to learn that certain places where they are

protected may be resorted to with safety.

Because of their freedom of flight it is in all cases difficult to

bring our perching birds into such relations with the domiciles of man

that they can be truly domesticated. The success, however, which has

been attained in the case of the pigeons, which have been so far made

captive by the change of their instincts that they never depart far

from their cotes, seems to indicate that this tendency again to go

wild is by no means ineradicable. In other instances it will probably

disappear as it has in this by long-continued care in breeding. Our

successes with the geese, ducks, and swans, all of which belong to

genera characterized by the migratory habit, show how readily in the

course of time the old native instincts may be subordinated to the

will of man. Although the degree of the difficulty which will be

encountered in taming many wild forms may be far greater than that

which has been met in those which we have domesticated, there is no

reason whatever to believe that in any case it will be insuperable.

While all the creatures of the wilderness may by the breeder's art be

induced to vary in the conditions of captivity, the birds have shown

themselves more plastic in our hands than any other animals. In almost

every brood we find individuals possessing marked peculiarities of

form or plumage. In their mental qualities also there is a like range

of variation. Seizing upon these, the fancier can guide the quick

succeeding generations so as to cause the form to depart in the course

of a few years very far from its original aspect. With each step in

this succession of changes the readiness with which the species

responds to selective care increases. The results which have been

attained in our barnyard fowl and with the pigeons show how admirably

these creatures are fitted to obey the will of man when he has a mind

to take charge of their destiny.

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