The Industries of Animals

by Frédéric Houssay

Without going too far back into history, let us look towards the end of the last century and the beginning of this. Cuvier, Lamarck,[2] and Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire,[3] all preoccupied with general ideas, were each trying to build up a doctrine. The theory of evolution was born beneath the pen of Lamarck, but immediately fell under the attacks of Cuvier.[4] It is to Darwin that the honour belongs of having rescued it from oblivion and of having initiated the movement which to-day rules the natural sciences. Studies in embryology and anatomy are rising without number beneath this impulse; and perhaps it may be said that these new sciences, so fruitful in results, absorb a little too much attention and leave in the shade subjects longer known, but which, however, gain new interest by the way they fit into present scientific theories.

I wish to speak of the manners of animals; the facts regarding them are of sufficient interest if we consider them one by one, and they become much more interesting when we attempt to show the close way in which they are bound together. Volumes would not suffice to exhaust the subject; but if the entire task is too considerable, I may at least hope to accomplish a part of it by treating of those facts which may be brought together under the common title of Animal Industries. Taken separately, they may be reproached with a certain anecdotal character, but we cannot fail to agree that taken altogether they constitute an important chapter in the sciences of life.

The chief industries of Man. — Let us first throw a rapid glance at the various stages which the civilisation and industry of Man have gone through before arriving at their present condition. To make clear these phases we might either follow the state of civilisation in any given country by tracing back the course of centuries, or else at a given epoch find out in different parts of the earth all the stages of human evolution. The savage men of to-day are not further advanced in their evolution than our own ancestors who have now gone to fossil. However it may be, Man, at first frugivorous, as his dentition shows as well as his zoological affinities, in consequence of a famine of fruit or from whatever other cause, gradually began to nourish himself with the flesh of other animals. To search for this fleeing prey developed in him the art of hunting and fishing. His intelligence, still feeble, was entirely concentrated on this one point: to seize on an animal and to feed on it, although neither his nails nor his teeth nor his muscles make it natural to him. To hunt, to fish, to defend his territory against the wild beasts who attacked it and himself, to drive back tribes of his fellows who would diminish his provisions, these were the first rudiments of the industry of Man. Having become more skilful, he obtained in an expedition more game than he could consume at once; he then kept near him living beasts in order to sacrifice them when hunger came. His reserve of animals increased; they became accustomed to live near him; and he took care of his larder. A flock was gradually constituted, and the owner learnt to profit from all the resources which it offered him, from milk to wool. Henceforth he became economical with his beasts, and moved about in order to procure for them abundance of grass and water. He was still always hunting and fighting; but there were now accessory industries, and he was especially occupied in the domestication of animals. Then it happened that he acquired a taste for a graminaceous grain — corn. To seek the blades one by one is not a very fruitful labour, and decidedly troublesome. Man collected a supply of them, cultivated them, possessed fields which he sowed and harvested. He was henceforth obliged to renounce his herds, which had become immense; for he could not leave the soil where his corn was ripening, if he wished to gather it himself, and his cattle were lacking pasture. The number of beasts diminished; bread had killed milk. Man only kept near him a small flock capable of feeding on a moderate territory. He abandoned his temporary shelters, tents of skin or of woven wool, and since he must henceforth live on the same piece of land, he constructed there a fixed dwelling. Such is, taken altogether, the genesis of the industry of the dwelling connected with the culture of the soil; to earlier periods corresponded the natural or hollowed cave and the woven tent.

The chief industries of Animals. — In a more or less perfect degree we find the same industries among animals generally. In order to make just comparisons, we ought especially to consider the methods of those who are not endowed with specially appropriated organs, for in this case their task is rendered too simple. To take an example. The Lion is certainly an incomparable hunter; but his whole organisation tends to facilitate the capture of living prey. His agility and the strength of his muscles enable him to seize it at the first leap before it can escape. With his sharp claws he holds it; his teeth are so keen and his jaw so strong that he kills it immediately; with such natural advantages what need has he of ingenuity? But in the case of the Wolf or the Fox it is quite another matter; they hunt with a veritable art which Man himself has not disdained, since he has taken as his associate their relative, the Dog. It is the same with the Eagle and the Crow. The latter, in order to seize the prey which he desires, needs much more varied resources than the great bird of rapine for whom nature has done everything.

We find among animals not only hunting and fishing but the art of storing in barns, of domesticating various species, of harvesting and reaping — the rudiments of the chief human industries. Certain animals in order to shelter themselves take advantage of natural caverns in the same way as many races of primitive men. Others, like the Fox and the Rodents, dig out dwellings in the earth; even to-day there are regions where Man does not act otherwise, preparing himself a lodging by excavations in the chalk or the tufa. Woven dwellings, constructed with materials entangled in one another, like the nests of birds, proceed from the same method of manufacture as the woollen stuffs of which nomad tribes make their tents. The Termites who construct vast dwellings of clay, the Beavers who build huts of wood and of mud, have in this industry reached the same point as Man. They do not build so well, no doubt, nor in so complex a fashion as modern architects and engineers, but they work in the same way. All these ingenious artisans operate without organs specially adapted to accomplish the effect which they reach. It is with such genuine industries that we have to deal, for the most part neglecting other productions, more marvellous in certain ways, which are formed by particular organs, or are elaborated within the organism, and are not the result of the intelligent effort of the individual. To this category belong the threads which the Spider stretches, and the cocoon with which the Caterpillar surrounds himself to shelter his metamorphosis.

Intelligence and instinct. — By attentive observation it is possible to find in animals all the intermediate stages between a deliberate reflective action and an act that has become instinctive and so inveterate to the species that it has re-acted on its body, and thus profoundly modified it so as to produce a new organ in such a way that the phenomena are accomplished as a simple function of vegetative life, in the same way as respiration or digestion.

If an individual is led to reproduce often the same series of actions it contracts a habit; the repetition may be so frequent that the animal comes to accomplish it without knowing it; the brain no longer intervenes; the spinal cord or the chain of ganglia alone govern this order of acts, to which has been given the name of reflex actions. A reflex may be so powerful as to be transmitted by heredity to the descendants; it then becomes an instinct.

Thus by its nature instinct does not differ from intelligence, but is intimately connected with it by a chain of which all the links may be counted. The most intelligent of beings, Man, performs actions that are purely mechanical; many indeed can with justice be called instinctive; and, on the other hand, an animal for whom an innate hereditary instinct is sufficient in ordinary life will give proof of intelligence and reflection if circumstances in which his instinct is generally efficacious become modified so that he can no longer profit by them. Among other ingenious experiments to show the supposed difference between instinctive and reflective acts, Fabre brings forward the following[5]: — The Chalicodoma, a hymenopterous relative of the Bees, constructs nests composed of cells formed of mud agglutinated with saliva. The cell once constructed, the insect begins to fill it with honey before laying an egg there. He returns with his booty and wishes to disburse himself in the nest, finds the cellule which he has to fill, and proceeds always in the same order: first, he plunges his head in the cell and disgorges the honey which fills his crop; secondly, he emerges from the cell, turns round, and lets fall the pollen which remains attached to his legs. Suppose that an insect has just disgorged his honey, the observer touches his belly with a straw; the little animal, disturbed in his operation, returns to it having only the second act to perform. But he re-commences the whole of his operations though having nothing more to disgorge; he again plunges his head into the cell and goes through a pretence of disgorging, then turns round and frees himself from the pollen. Although touched twice, thrice, or more frequently, he always repeats the first action before executing the second. It is, says Fabre, almost like the movement of a machine of which the wheelwork will not act until one has begun to turn the wheel which directs it.

It is incontestable; but I would add, as this conscientious observer does not, that that does not prove that the intelligence of the insect differs essentially from ours; it is a simple question of degree. Look at a boy who is going to jump over a ditch: he begins by spitting into his hands and rubbing them one against the other before taking his spring. In what has this served him? It is not more intelligent than the gesture of the bee who first plunges his head in the cell before freeing his claws, although the first gesture is useless.[6]

And, from another side, if nothing is more instinctive than the manner in which domestic Bees construct their cells of wax with geometric regularity, there are other circumstances in which these same insects give proof of remarkable reflection, sagacity, and intelligence in co-ordinating their actions in the presence of an event to which they are not accustomed, and in attaining an end which has presented itself by accident. Such are, for example, the arrangements which they make to defend their honey against the attacks of a great nocturnal Moth, the Death’s Head. I shall have to revert to these facts.