Book: The Human Side of Animals

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These strange coral-producing animals of the deep demand two especially
important conditions only under which they will thrive: namely, a
certain depth of water and a certain temperature. Thus it is seen that
the warmth of the sea determines the distribution of the corals; the
geography of these animals is defined by degrees of temperature. Only in
equatorial seas may reef-building corals be found; and if we select the
"Equator as a natural centre of the globe, and measure off a band of
1800 miles in breadth on each side of that line," we will find that it
will include the chief coral regions of the earth.

The work of the corals is most interesting. Small as are these tiny
workmen, each and every one does his bit and, speck by speck, adds his
minute contribution to the growing mass of coral until entire islands
are surrounded by extensive reefs. Tahiti, for example, is surrounded by
a barrier reef which is really an immense wall. The large barrier reef
on the northeast coast of Australia extends in a continuous line for
1,000 miles, and varies from 10 to 90 miles in breadth. Some reefs are
mere fringes which simply skirt the coast lands, and seem to be mere
extensions of the beach. Still another variety of reef is known as the
"atoll" or "lagoon" reef. This latter form is seen in circular rings of
coral of various breadths which enclose a body of still water--the
lagoon. There are many of these coral islands in the Indian and Pacific
Oceans. Keeling or Cocos Atoll, of the Indian Ocean, is 9-1/2 miles in
its greatest width; Bow Island is 30 miles in length, and 6 miles wide;
while in the Maldive Archipelago one island measures 88 geographical
miles in length, and in some places is 20 miles wide. When one beholds a
large coral ring, covered with rich soil and tropical vegetation, and
"protecting a quiet lake-haven from the restless ocean without, it is
little to be wondered at that the earlier voyagers recorded their
surprise that the apparently insignificant architects of such an
erection are able to withstand the force of the waves and to preserve
their works among the continual attacks of the sea." As Pyrard de Laval
truly said, "It is a marvel to see each of these atollons surrounded on
all sides by a great bank of stone--walls such as no human hands could
build on the space of earth allotted to them.... Being in the middle of
an atollon, you see all around you this great stone bank, which
surrounds and protects the island from the waves; but it is a formidable
attempt, even for the boldest, to approach the bank and watch the waves
roll in, and break with fury upon the shore."

As to the explanation of the modes of formation of these coral-reefs,
the scientists have long been propounding theories which are sometimes
amusing. Strangely enough they have nearly all explained that
coral-polypes aggregate themselves in the forms of atolls and
barrier-reefs by a mysterious "instinct," mediocrity's only term for
screening its ignorance, and which is also given as the cause for their
secreting lime. Flinders says that they form a great protecting reef in
order that they may be protected by its shelter, and that the leeward
aspect of the reef forms a nursery for their infant colonies.

Thus we see that these same scientists are accrediting these little
architects with the possession of a great intelligence, and they are
thought to co-operate together in a manner expressive of the greatest
degree of efficiency and brotherly feeling. Each of these scientists
gives a theory that leaves untouched the essential question of the
causes for coral-reefs assuming their various shapes; and it is
reasonable to believe that they work according to a divine wisdom and
plan, and that mankind does not yet understand their strange ways, which
give us a higher conception of the universe than that held by the
ancients. Science has come to the point where it must recognise the
perfect unity of all life, and that our fellow-architects, engineers,
and house-builders in the animal world also fill an important place in
Nature's great scheme.




XI

FOOD CONSERVERS

_"He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."_

--COLERIDGE.


It can almost be said that there is no industry or profession of the
human world that is not carried on with equal skill in the animal world.
This is especially true of merchandising and store-keeping; animals,
however, have different methods of merchandising than men, although
these methods are none the less real. They give and take instead of buy
and sell and have co-operative shops which they operate with great
success. They unite for a desired end, and demonstrate their ability to
work together in a common enterprise in a way that might teach man a
good lesson.

Food and shelter are the first needs of animals. In order to obtain
these, they group themselves into foraging parties in the most ingenious
manner. Like mankind, they sometimes co-operate for dishonest ends; they
form "trusts" and organise into gangs for purposes of mutual aid.

Deer, monkeys, rabbits, foxes, and numerous others conduct their
dining-rooms on a co-operative principle. Some watch and wait while
others dine. The same is true where they go to watering places to drink
and bathe.

Perhaps the most unique and clever food conserver is the American
polecat. He not only provides for himself, but prepares a larder for his
young, so that they will have plenty of food. The nursery is usually
comfortably embedded in a cave, and is lined with soft, dry grass.
Adjoining this nursery is a larder, which often contains from ten to
fifty large frogs and toads, all alive, but so dexterously bitten
through the brain as to make them incapable of escaping. Mr. and Mrs.
Pole-cat can then visit or hunt as they please, so long as their
children have plenty of fresh meat at home!

Another interesting food conserver is the chipping squirrel, or
chipmunk, so named because his cry sounds like the chirp of little
chickens. His method of dress is most unusual; he is brownish grey in
colour, with five stripes of black and two of pale yellow running along
the back of his coat; the throat and lower part of his body is snowy
white. These colours occasionally vary, when the grey and yellow are
superseded by black.

His home is underground, usually under an old wall, near a rock fence,
or under a tree; his burrow is so long and winding that he can easily
escape almost any enemy, except the weasel, which is not easily
outwitted. His nursery and living-room is quite pretentious, but his
lateral storeroom is a marvel! He is a miser indeed, and stores up every
acorn and nut he can find, even many times more than he can ever eat.
His variety of food is almost unending--he loves buckwheat, beaked nuts,
pecans, various kinds of grass seeds, and Indian corn. In carrying food
to his home he first fills his pouches to overflowing and then takes
another nut in his mouth; he thus reminds the classical reader of
Alemaeon in the treasury of Croesus.

The hedgehog is a regular Solomon in her methods of collecting fruit.
Plutarch had a very high opinion of her. He says that when grapes are
ripe, the mother hedgehog goes under the vines and shakes them until
some of the grapes fall; she then literally rolls over them until many
are attached to her spines, and marches back to her babies in the
cave. "One day," says Plutarch, "when we were all together, we had the
chance of seeing this with our own eyes--it looked as if a bunch of
grapes was shuffling along the ground, so thickly covered was the animal
with its booty."

[Illustration: _American Museum of Natural History, New York_

THE SKUNK MOTHER TRIES TO KEEP ON HAND A GOOD SUPPLY OF SUCH DELICACIES
AS FROGS AND TOADS, SO THAT HER YOUNG MAY NEVER GO HUNGRY.]

[Illustration: _American Museum of Natural History, New York_

THE PORCUPINE AND THE HEDGEHOG HAVE A UNIQUE METHOD OF COLLECTING FOOD
FOR THEIR YOUNG. AFTER SHAKING DOWN BERRIES OR GRAPES, THEY ROLL IN
THEM, THEN HURRY HOME WITH THE FOOD ATTACHED TO THEIR QUILLS.]

Alpine mice not only form comfortable winter homes in the earth, but
combine into small winter colonies, each colony numbering about ten to
twelve inhabitants, all of whom are under the direction of a leader.
Thus organised, they proceed to lay up provisions for the winter. They
use their mouths as scythes and their paws as rotary machines. Surely
their wisdom and foresight call forth our greatest admiration. The
jerboas or jumping mice are not only skilled athletes in the art of
jumping, but they are gifted food conservers and producers as well. They
lay up complete storehouses of food, which they do not consume
altogether as their appetite may direct; but conserve it carefully for
the times when nothing can be obtained from the fields. Then, and then
only, do they open the closed magazines. Such acts of intelligence
cannot be recorded under the head of "instinct"! They demonstrate the
ability to plan for the future, and meet all emergencies.

Certain food hoarders and robbers, like the vole, are so very greedy and
become such misers that they often threaten total destruction to large
areas of grain. They were so plentiful in the classic land of Thessaly,
the vale of Tempe, and the Land of Olympus that the old Greeks
established what they called an Apollo Smintheus, the Mouse-destroying
God. In the early spring, according to Professor Loeffler, who has made
a special study of their invasions, they begin to come down from their
homes in the hills to the cultivated fields. They seem to follow regular
roads, and often travel along the railroad embankment. They travel very
slowly, and when at home live somewhat on the order of prairie dogs,
that is, in underground dwellings with numerous winding passages and
tunnels.

These wise little food conservers are nocturnal in habit, and are rarely
seen except by careful observers. When they once determine to rob a
field, they do it with amazing rapidity and completeness. In a single
night hordes of these workers go into a cornfield and by daylight not a
stalk of corn remains. The field is as empty as if a cyclone had struck
it. They work with great system, and while a part of their number cut
the stalks down, others cut it up into movable sizes, while still others
superintend its systematic removal. Storehouses are usually provided
before the grain is even cut. They make long voyages throughout a
country, storing away tons of grain and food in these various
granaries. To these they come for supplies whenever necessary. All
poverty-stricken voles are also fed from these storehouses, since it is
the product of the community as a whole. Aristotle wrote at length about
their wise and destructive ways.

Not the least ingenious of food conservers are the hamsters, members of
the great rodent family. They have made their dwellings most comfortable
and even luxurious in arrangement and furnishings. Like wealthy farmers,
they are not satisfied with comfortable dwellings only, but they too
must have spacious barns adjoining their homes. Their home, or burrow
proper, consists of two openings: one, which is used as an entrance, and
which sinks vertically into the ground; the other, which is used as an
exit, with a winding slope. The central room is beautifully carpeted
with straw, moss, and dry leaves, which makes it a very pleasant
living-room and bedroom. A third small winding tunnel leads from this
room to the barns and storehouse. Thus, Mr. and Mrs. Hamster and the
children have no need to go forth in the cold and wet weather to seek
food--they can remain at home perfectly protected and well-fed. They are
very liberal, and in case of need or poverty, will always share their
food with their neighbours.

I once found the nest of a harvest mouse, which was woven of plaited
blades of straw of the oats and wheat. It was perfectly round, with the
aperture so ingeniously closed that I could scarcely tell to what part
of the nest it belonged. It was as round as a marble and would actually
roll when placed on a table, although within its walls were six tiny
mice, naked and blind. As they increased in size day by day, the elastic
wall of their small home expanded, and thus served their need until such
time as they were old enough to live independent of this specially
provided shelter.

There is a larger animal, known as a "rat-hare" or the harvest rat,
which gathers piles of hay for winter use, sometimes to the height of
six or eight feet in diameter. They begin harvesting in the early part
of August, and after having cut the grass, they carefully spread it out
to dry before placing it in their barns. These barns are usually located
in holes or crevices of mountains. They are found in immense numbers in
the Altai Mountains.

The California woodrat is not only a food hoarder but a notable thief
and robber. A nest was found that was a veritable tool chest and pawn
shop! It contained fourteen knives, three forks, six small spoons, one
large soup spoon, twenty-seven large nails, hundreds of small tacks, two
butcher knives, three pairs of eye-glasses, one purse, one string of
beads, one rubber ball, two small cakes of soap, one string of red
peppers, several boxes of matches, with numerous small buttons, needles,
and pins. Apparently these woodrats are as ambitious for unnecessary and
useless possessions as is man himself. Their big storeroom did, however,
contain a larder in which they had some of their favourite food, such as
seeds and nuts.

Some animals have learned not only to acquire, but also to defend and
protect, all their property. We see in the human world how strong is the
impulse to collect, and children will invariably collect anything from
pebbles to peach-pits, if they see other children doing the same thing.

Most animals that do not hoard are those that forage for food, or fish,
and rarely have permanent homes. The orang-outangs, for example, are
regular gipsies, and go from place to place wherever food is plentiful.
They take life easy, and sometimes during their journeys select a
suitable spot near the seashore and have a real picnic. A scout has
already discovered the right spot for getting big oysters, of which they
are exceedingly fond, and when they have assembled, certain ones proceed
to dig up the oysters, which they hand to others on the shore and they,
in turn, place them on big stones, and proceed to open them for the
feast. If one of the fishermen-monkeys discovers an oyster open, he will
not insert his hand to remove the meat until first placing a stone
between the valves. This assures him protection against the closing of
the oyster. In most cases, they open the oysters by first placing them
on stones and then using another stone as a hammer. These facts are
vouched for by no less authorities than Gamelli Carreri, Dampier, and
Wafer.

It is only a matter of time until many animals will understand the use
of man-made tools. Some have already learned to use such tools as they
make and shape for themselves. Monkeys and apes are already gifted in
this art. Of course, under domestication, they use knives, forks,
spoons, and dishes not so much from intelligence as from imitation.
This, however, might be said of many human beings. I have seen an
immense chimpanzee sit in a chair, set his own dinner table, use his
knife and fork correctly when eating, and take great delight in the use
of his napkin, which he always carefully refolded when his meal was
over.

The human-like qualities of apes and monkeys, however, need scarcely be
told. They are so very similar to man in most ways that there are few
things they cannot do. Aelian tells of an ape which learned to drive
horses skilfully. He knew just when and how to use the whip, how much
slack to allow in the reins, and when to tighten them! They greatly
resent any intrusion on their hunting-grounds, and make use of sticks
and clubs to protect them. The chief is always armed with a club, and is
thoroughly skilled in the use of it. It sometimes happens that an
elephant will come to the same tree to seek food that apes frequent, and
although they have no enmity towards each other, they like the same kind
of food. As soon as the ape sees the elephant reaching his trunk among
the branches, he immediately slips near the elephant, and when an
opportunity presents itself, he whacks him over the trunk with his club!
The infuriated elephant runs away in terror!

A story is told of a party of foraging apes who went into a cornfield
with the purpose of robbing it, and discovered two men. They immediately
rushed upon them and attempted to poke their eyes out with sticks and
would have succeeded but for the intervention of two other men who
chanced to be near. The extreme cleverness of apes in applying their
reason and judgment is shown in Vosmaer's account of the female
orang-outang, who tried to open the padlock of her chain with a small
stick. She had seen her master open it with a key, and she exactly
imitated the motion of his hands in the attempt.

Man shows a disposition to deny animals all traits and characteristics
which are similar to his own. This reminds us of a remark that Cardinal
Newman once made that men know less of animals than they do of angels.
Why should we show such foolish pride and delusion, and try to baffle
one of God's great facts? When men attempt to extinguish the idea of
animal intelligence and sentiment by referring to it as instinct, we are
reminded of the desert ostrich, which buries its head in the sand and
thinks it cannot be seen. We should proudly acknowledge the wonderful
human-like methods of these food conservers of the animal world, and
recognise in all this a guiding Providence who provides for and protects
all his creatures, be they great or small.




XII

TOURISTS AND SIGHT-SEERS

_"Every night we must look, lest the down slope
Between us and the woods turn suddenly
To a grey onrush full of small green candles,
The charging pack with eyes flaming for flesh.
And well for us then if there's no more mist
Than the white panting of the wolfish hunger."_


The desire to travel and see the great world is by no means peculiar to
the human race. It is found among animals to such a degree that groups
of them will often leave their homes in one country and journey to
another. These strange wanderlust habits are noticed even by the casual
observer, and no special insight is required to see that these wise
creatures have their annual tours excellently arranged and marked out.
Their route is possibly as definitely arranged before starting, as is
the route of a human traveller. They have their selected eating places
arranged, know every danger spot and the enemies they are likely to
encounter.

The members of these co-operative tours take life tickets, and each tour
lasts about one year. One of the most unusual instances of such
co-operation is that of the lemmings of the Scandinavian countries.
These are animals of the mouse tribe, which live in the mountainous
districts. They live upon roots and grasses. They breed very rapidly. At
certain times they go from the centre of Norway to the east and west,
crossing valley, hill, and river in great masses. Many are destroyed by
birds and beasts of prey, but finally the survivors reach the Atlantic
on the Gulf of Bothnia and, for some strange unknown reason, plunge in
and die. Only enough remain from one season to another to propagate the
species. It is an immense co-operative suicide society.

Rivers and valleys are sometimes effectual barriers. On the plains of
the Amazon great numbers of animals are found on one side of the river
only; these have not been able to cross to the other. On the north side
of the Rio Negro are two varieties of monkeys, the _brachiurus conxion_
and the _jacchus bicolor_, which are unknown on the south side. Of
course, water-loving animals, such as seals, whales, and porpoises are
at home in the water and can swim for days without stopping. Quite a few
animals can swim for a short distance, but comparatively few for long
distances. In the early days in North America it was not uncommon for
buffalo to swim across the Mississippi River. Rats and squirrels often
migrate in great numbers. It oftentimes happens that Arctic animals
travel from one place to another on floating ice. In the South American
waters it is a common sight to see floating islands covered with plants
and trees upon which there are live animals; and while these animals are
likely to perish, they are oftentimes carried safely to land. Eagles
have often been instrumental in bringing new species of animals to
islands where they had previously been unknown, their purpose being to
provide food for their own young. Some of these animals would escape and
henceforth become citizens of their new habitation.

An interesting division of migrants is that of the casual travellers,
like the men and women who always remain at home except when special
business calls them away. Sudden climatic changes, or the scarcity of
food, often cause stay-at-home animals to make tours into new
territories. As a good instance, I might cite the case of three wolves,
which I saw entering Jackson Park in Chicago, during very severe weather
when Lake Michigan was frozen over. The morning papers stated that
because of forest fires in Michigan, and the extreme cold, which not
only made food scarce for the wild animals of Michigan, but froze the
Lake, many of them had come across the ice into the great Chicago parks
seeking food and shelter.

The subject of animal travel is full of interesting and difficult
problems, and not the least interesting nor the least difficult is the
question of just how they find their way to and from various places.
Many naturalists tell us that these animals are led by inherited
instinct along the migration lines followed by their forefathers. But
even if this were true, what made them originally follow such a course?

Wild horses when travelling always have a leader as well as several
sentinels for each herd. By some unknown code this leader makes known
his wishes and directs the movements of the herd. No human army could
have greater order or more perfect obedience to commands; and under him
there is absolute unity by means of which the carnivorous animals, such
as the wolf, the jaguar, and the puma, are repelled. Wild deer
invariably have a leader, and while we do not know how he obtains his
position, nor how he directs his followers, we do know he is highly
successful in his efforts.

No act in the animal world bespeaks more intelligence than that of
placing sentinels, especially during a journey. Horses show striking
skill and ingenuity in the choosing and placing of their sentinels. Any
one who has been fortunate enough to have seen them travelling in the
forests of South America, where the wild horses are gregarious, and
travel in herds of five hundred to a thousand, has noticed that
sentinels are always stationed around the herd. These animals are not
well prepared for fighting, and experience has taught them that their
greatest safety is in flight, and so, when they graze or sleep,
sentinels are always on the look-out for enemies. If a man approaches,
the sentinel at first walks toward him, as if to make sure what the
enemy is, and what he desires, if the man goes nearer to the herd, the
sentinel neighs in a most peculiar tone. Immediately the herd is
aroused, and gallops away, not in confusion, but perfect order, as
though its members were human soldiers.

The same is true of the white-legged peccaries, so plentiful in Guiana.
They congregate by the thousands, choose a leader whose position is
always at the front, and travel for hundreds of miles through the great
forests. If they come to a river, the leader halts, as if to make sure
that all is well for crossing, then he plunges into the water and is
followed by his immense army. The sureness of the leader would suggest
that he has been over the same route many times before--perhaps this is
why he has been chosen! If an enemy appears, or any form of danger is
approached, they carry on an immense amount of chattering and proceed
only when they have talked it out. Any hunter that should be foolish
enough to attack them, unless he were already up a tree, would be torn
to pieces with their terrible teeth and tusks. They are as bloodthirsty
as the wild boars of the Black Forest of Germany, and will sometimes
actually tear down a tree up which an enemy has escaped, that they may
kill him.

The African apes have an interesting way of sending their sentinel to
the top of an adjacent rock or tree, that he may look over the
surrounding valleys and plantations before they go to plunder a garden
or field. If he sees any danger, he utters a loud shriek, and the entire
troop immediately runs away. The monkeys of Brazil post a guard while
they sleep; the same is true of the chamois and other species of wild
antelope.

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