A chance deliverance and not premeditated; for, if the happy event had been the result of a mental combination, the other prisoners, practically his equals in powers of perception, would all, from first to last, have discovered by rational means the elbowed path leading to the outer world; and the cage would promptly be deserted. The failure of the great majority proves that the single fugitive was simply digging at random. Circumstances favoured him; and that is all. We must not put it to his credit that he succeeded where all the others failed.
We must also beware of attributing to the Necrophori a duller understanding than is usual in insect psychology. I find the ineptness of the undertaker in all the Beetles reared under the wire cover, on the bed of sand into which the rim of the dome sinks a little way. With very rare exceptions, fortuitous accidents, not one thinks of circumventing the barrier by way of the base; not one manages to get outside by means of a slanting tunnel, not even though he be a miner by profession, as are the Dung-beetles par excellence. Captives under the wire dome and anxious to escape, Sacred Beetles, Geotrupes, Copres, Gymnopleuri,3 Sisyphi,4 all see about them the free space, the joys of the open sunlight; and not one thinks of going round under the rampart, which would present no difficulty to their pickaxes.
3 Cf. The Sacred Beetle and Others: chap. vii.—Translator's Note.
4 Cf. idem: chap. xv.—Translator's Note.
Even in the higher ranks of animality, examples of similar mental obfuscation are not lacking. Audubon5 tells us how, in his days, wild Turkeys were caught in North America. In a clearing known to be frequented by these birds, a great cage was constructed with stakes driven into the ground. In the centre of the enclosure opened a short tunnel, which dipped under the palisade and returned to the surface outside the cage by a gentle slope, which was open to the sky. The central opening, wide enough to give a bird free passage, occupied only a portion of the enclosure, leaving around it, against the circle of stakes, a wide unbroken zone. A few handfuls of maize were scattered in the interior of the trap, as well as round about it, and in particular along the sloping path, which passed under a sort of bridge and led to the centre of the contrivance. In short, the Turkey-trap presented an ever-open door. The bird found it in order to enter, but did not think of looking for it in order to go out.
5 John James Audubon (1780-1851), the noted American ornithologist, of French descent, author of Birds of America (1827-1830) and Ornithological Biography (1831-1839).—Translator's Note.
According to the famous American ornithologist, the Turkeys, lured by the grains of maize, descended the insidious slope, entered the short underground passage and beheld, at the end of it, plunder and the light. A few steps farther and the gluttons emerged, one by one, from beneath the bridge. They distributed themselves about the enclosure. The maize was abundant; and the Turkeys' crops grew swollen.
When all was gathered, the band wished to retreat, but not one of the prisoners paid any attention to the central hole by which he had arrived. Gobbling uneasily, they passed again and again across the bridge whose arch was yawning beside them; they circled round against the palisade, treading a hundred times in their own footprints; they thrust their necks, with their crimson wattles, through the bars; and there, with their beaks in the open air, they fought and struggled until they were exhausted.
Remember, O inept one, what happened but a little while ago; think of the tunnel that led you hither! If that poor brain of yours contains an atom of ability, put two ideas together and remind yourself that the passage by which you entered is there and open for your escape! You will do nothing of the kind. The light, an irresistible attraction, holds you subjugated against the palisade; and the shadow of the yawning pit, which has but lately permitted you to enter and will quite as readily permit you to go out, leaves you indifferent. To recognize the use of this opening you would have to reflect a little, to recall the past; but this tiny retrospective calculation is beyond your powers. So the trapper, returning a few days later, will find a rich booty, the entire flock imprisoned!
Of poor intellectual repute, does the Turkey deserve his name for stupidity? He does not appear to be more limited than another. Audubon depicts him as endowed with certain useful ruses, in particular when he has to baffle the attacks of his nocturnal enemy, the Virginian Owl. As for his behaviour in the snare with the underground passage, any other bird, impassioned of the light, would do the same.