Similarly, Mr. E. C. Buck records ('Nature,' viii., 303) the following interesting observation made by his friend Mr. Elliot, B.C.S., Secretary to Government, N.W.P.:—
He saw two wolves standing together, and shortly after noticing them was surprised to see one of them lie down in a ditch, and the other walk away over the open plain. He watched the latter, which deliberately went to the far side of a herd of antelopes standing in the plain, and drove them, as a sheep-dog would a flock of sheep, to the very spot where his companion lay in ambush. As the antelopes crossed the ditch, the concealed wolf jumped up as in the former case, seized a doe, and was joined by his colleague.
Mr. Buck draws attention to another closely similar display of collective instinct of wolves in the same district observed by a 'writer of one of the books on Indian sport.'
With reference to this case I wrote to 'Nature' as follows. The friend to whom I allude was the late Dr. Brydon, C.B. (the 'last man' of the Afghan expedition of 1841), whom I knew intimately for several years, and always found his observations on animals to be trustworthy:—
In response to the appeal which closes Mr. Buck's interesting letter ('Nature,' vol. viii., p. 302), the following instance of 'collective instinct' exhibited by an animal closely allied to the wolf, viz., the Indian jackal, deserves to be recorded. It was communicated to me by a gentleman (since deceased) on whose veracity I can depend. This gentleman was waiting in a tree to shoot tigers as they came to drink at a large lake (I forget the district), skirted by a dense jungle, when about midnight a large axis deer emerged from the latter and went to the water's edge. Then it stopped and sniffed the air in the direction of the jungle, as if suspecting the presence of an enemy; apparently satisfied, however, it began to drink, and continued to do so for a most inordinate length of time. When literally swollen with water it turned to go into the jungle, but was met on its extreme margin by a jackal, which, with a sharp yelp, turned it again into the open. The deer seemed much startled, and ran along the shore for some distance, when it again attempted to enter the jungle, but was again met and driven back in the same manner. The night being calm, my friend could hear this process being repeated time after time—the yelps becoming successively fainter and fainter in the distance, until they became wholly inaudible. The stratagem thus employed was sufficiently evident. The lake having a long narrow shore intervening between it and the jungle, the jackals formed themselves in line along it while concealed within the extreme edge of the cover, and waited until the deer was waterlogged. Their prey, being thus rendered heavy and short-winded, would fall an easy victim if induced to run sufficiently far, i.e., if prevented from entering the jungle. It was, of course, impossible to estimate the number of jackals engaged in this hunt, for it is not impossible that as soon as one had done duty at one place, it outran the deer to await it in another.
A native servant who accompanied my friend told him that this was a stratagem habitually employed by the jackals in that place, and that they hunted in sufficient numbers 'to leave nothing but the bones.' As it is a stratagem which could only be effectual under the peculiar local conditions described, it must appear that this example of collective instinct is due to 'separate expression,' and not to 'inherited habit.'
Cases of collective instinct are not of unfrequent occurrence among dogs. For the accuracy of the two following I can vouch. A small Skye and a large mongrel were in the habit of hunting hares and rabbits upon their own account, the small dog having a good nose, and the larger one great fleetness. These qualities they combined in the most advantageous manner, the terrier driving the cover towards his fleet-footed companion which was waiting for it outside.
The second case is remarkable for a display of sly sagacity. A friend of mine in Ross-shire had a small terrier and a large Newfoundland. One day a shepherd called upon him to say that his dogs had been worrying sheep the night before. The gentleman said there must be some mistake, as the Newfoundland had not been unchained. A few days afterwards the shepherd again called with the same complaint, vehemently asserting that he was positive as to the identity of the dogs. Consequently the owner set one watch upon the kennel and another outside the sheep enclosure, directing them (in consequence of what the shepherd had told him) not to interfere with the action of the dogs. After this had been done several nights in succession, the small dog was observed to come at daydawn to the place where the large one was chained; the latter immediately slipped his collar, and the two animals made straight for the sheep. Upon arriving at the enclosure the Newfoundland concealed himself behind a hedge, while the terrier drove the sheep towards his ambush, and the fate of one of them was quickly sealed. When their breakfast was finished the dogs returned home, and the larger one, thrusting his head into his collar, lay down again as though nothing had happened. Why this animal should have chosen to hunt by stratagem prey which it could easily run down, I cannot suggest; but there can be little doubt that so wise a dog must have had some good reason.
A similar instance of the display of collective instinct is thus narrated by M. Dureau de la Malle:—