The trouble is that scientific men to-day form a brotherhood, a hierarchy, which lays claim to infallibility, or rather tacitly assumes infallibility.
They form a league into which none are admitted except those who take the oath of allegiance; and, of course, to expose the weakness of the scientific doctrines of the time is equivalent to violating the oath of allegiance. Now, the man of science who has to earn his living by his science, has either to join the league or run the risk of starving. This explains how a small coterie of men has things very much its own way; how it can lay down the law without fear of contradiction. If a man does arise and declines to accept the fiats of this league, it is not difficult for the members to combine and tell the general public that that man is a foolish crank, who does not know what he is talking about; and the public naturally accepts this dictum.
The only scientific men who, as a class, are characterised by humility are the meteorologists. I always feel sorry for the meteorologist. He has to predict the weather, and every man is able to test the value of these predictions. The zoologist, on the other hand, does not predict anything. He merely lays down the law to people who know nothing of law. He assures the world that he can explain all organic phenomena, and the world believes him.
As a matter of fact, zoology is quite as backward as meteorology. Those who do not wish to be deceived will do well to receive with caution all the zoological theories which at present hold the field. Before many years have passed all of them will have been modified beyond recognition. Most of them are already out of date.
There are doubtless good reasons for the colouring of both the grosbeak and the oriole; what these reasons are we know not. But as neither derives any benefit from the resemblance to the other, this resemblance cannot have been effected by natural selection. Now, if the unknown forces, which cause the various organisms to take their varied colours and forms, sometimes produce two organisms of different families which closely resemble one another, and the organisms in question are so distributed that neither can derive the slightest advantage in the struggle for existence from the resemblance, there is no reason why similar resemblances should not be produced in the case of organisms which occupy the same areas of the earth. Thus it is quite possible that many so-called cases of mimicry are nothing of the kind.
The mere fact that one of the organisms in question may profit by the likeness is not sufficient to demonstrate that natural selection is responsible for the resemblance.
In this connection we must bear in mind that, according to the orthodox Darwinian theory, the resemblance must have come about gradually, and in its beginnings it cannot have profited the mimic as a resemblance.
So plastic are organisms, and so great is the number of living things in the earth, that it is not surprising that very similar forms should sometimes arise independently and in different parts of the globe. Several instances of this fortuitous resemblance are cited in Beddard's Animal Colouration; others are cited in The Making of Species by Finn, and myself.
Perhaps the most striking case is that of a cuckoo found in New Zealand, known as Eudynamis taitensis. This is a near relative of the Indian koel, which bears remarkable resemblance to an American hawk (Accipiter cooperi). Writing of this cuckoo, Sir Walter Buller says: "Not only has our cuckoo the general contour of Cooper's sparrow-hawk, but the tear-shaped markings on the underparts, and the arrow-head bars on the femoral plumes are exactly similar in both. The resemblance is carried still further, in the beautifully-banded tail and marginal wing coverts, and likewise in the distribution of colours and markings on the sides of the neck. On turning to Mr. Sharpe's description of the young male of this species in his catalogue of the Accipitres in the British Museum, it will be seen how many of the terms employed apply equally to our Eudynamis, even to the general words, 'deep brown above with a chocolate gloss, all the feathers of the upper surface broadly edged with rufous.' ... Beyond the general grouping of the colours there is nothing to remind us of our own Bush-hawk; and that there is no great protective resemblance is sufficiently manifested, from the fact that our cuckoo is persecuted on every possible occasion by the tits, which are timorous enough in the presence of a hawk."