Dr. Rae also informs me with, regard to wolves, that 'they have been frequently known to take the bait from a gun without injury to themselves, by first cutting the line of communication between the two.'[261] He adds:—
I may also mention what I have been told, although I have never had an opportunity of seeing it, that wolves watch the fishermen who set lines in deep water for trout, through holes in the ice on Lake Superior, and very soon after the man has left, the wolf goes up to the place, takes hold of the stick which is placed across the hole and attached to the line, trots off with it along the ice until the bait is brought to the surface, then returns and eats the bait and the fish, if any happens to be on the hook. The trout of Lake Superior are very large, and the baits are of a size in proportion.
Mr. Murray Browne, Inspector of the Local Government Board, writes to me from Whitehall as follows:—
I once, at the Devil's Glen, Wicklow, found a fox fast in a trap by the foot. We did not like to touch him, but got sticks and poked at the trap till we got it open. The process took ten minutes or a quarter-hour. When first we came up the fox strained to get free, and looked frightfully savage; but we had not poked at the trap more than a very short time before the whole expression of his face changed, he lay perfectly quiet (though we must at times have hurt him); and when at last we had got the trap completely off his foot, he still lay quiet, and looked calmly at us, as if he knew we were friends. In fact, we had some little difficulty in getting him to move away, which he did readily enough when he chose. Was not this a case of reason and good sense overpowering natural instinct?
Couch says ('Illustrations of Instinct,' p. 178): 'Derham quotes Olaus in his account of Norway as having himself witnessed the fact of a fox dropping his tail among the rocks on the sea-shore to catch the crabs below, and hauling up and devouring such as laid hold of it.'
Under the present heading I must not omit to refer to an interesting class of instincts which are manifested by those species of the genus Canis, whose custom it is to hunt in packs. The instincts to which I refer are those which lead to a combination among different members of the same pack for the capture of prey by stratagem. These instincts, which no doubt arose and are now maintained by intelligent adaptation to the requirements of the chase, I shall call 'collective instincts.' Thus Sir E. Tennent writes:—
At dusk, and after nightfall, a pack of jackals, having watched a hare or a small deer take refuge in one of these retreats, immediately surrounded it on all sides; and having stationed a few to watch the path by which the game entered, the leader commences the attack by raising the cry peculiar to their race, and which resembles the sound 'okkay' loudly and rapidly repeated. The whole party then rush into the jungle and drive out the victim, which generally falls into the ambush previously laid to entrap it.
A native gentleman, who had favourable opportunities of observing the movements of these animals, informed me that when a jackal has brought down his game and killed it, his first impulse is to hide it in the nearest jungle, whence he issues with an air of easy indifference to observe whether anything more powerful than himself may be at hand, from which he might encounter the risk of being despoiled of his capture. If the coast be clear he returns to the concealed carcass and carries it away, followed by his companions. But if a man be in sight, or any other animal to be avoided, my informant has seen the jackal seize a cocoa-nut husk in his mouth, or any similar substance, and fly at full speed, as if eager to carry off his pretended prize, returning for the real booty at some more convenient season.[262]
Again, Jesse records the following display of the same instinct by the fox, as having been communicated to him by a friend on whose veracity he could rely:—
Part of this rocky ground was on the side of a very high hill, which was not accessible for a sportsman, and from which both hares and foxes took their way in the evening to the plain below. There were two channels or gullies made by the rains, leading from these rocks to the lower ground. Near one of these channels, the sportsman in question, and his attendant, stationed themselves one evening in hopes of being able to shoot some hares. They had not been there long, when they observed a fox coming down the gully, and followed by another. After playing together for a little time, one of the foxes concealed himself under a large stone or rock, which was at the bottom of the channel, and the other returned to the rocks. He soon, however, came back, chasing a hare before him. As the hare was passing the stone where the first fox had concealed himself, he tried to seize her by a sudden spring, but missed his aim. The chasing fox then came up, and finding that his expected prey had escaped, through the want of skill in his associate, he fell upon him, and they both fought with so much animosity, that the parties who had been watching their proceedings came up and destroyed them both.