Baker says of the stickleback, that when the fry made their appearance from the eggs, "Around, across, and in every direction the male fish, as the guardian, continually moved." There were three other fish in the aquarium, two tench and a gold carp. As soon as these fish saw the fry, they endeavored to devour them, but were driven off by the brave little father, which seized their fins and struck with all his might at their eyes and heads.[73]
"The well-known habit of the lophobranchiate fish, of incubating their eggs in their pouches, also displays highly elaborated parental feeling. M. Risso says when the young of the pipe-fish are hatched out, the parents show them marked attachment, and that the pouch then serves them as a place of shelter or retreat from danger."[74]
An experimenter, whose name escapes me, on one occasion caught a number of recently hatched catfish and placed them in a glass jar, close to the water's edge. The mother fish soon discovered the presence of her young ones and swam to and fro in front of the jar, evidently much harassed and worried. She eventually came out on dry land and attempted to get into the jar where her young were imprisoned. Truly, a wonderful example or instance of mother love when self was entirely forgotten in solicitude for the offspring!
The Surinam toad hatches her eggs and then carries her young about with her on her back until they are old enough to shift for themselves; the "horned toad" of the southwestern states and Mexico acts in a similar manner toward its young.
I had been informed that snakes evinced parental love for their offspring, but never until a recent spring had I been able to verify this information and give it my unqualified endorsement. In March (1896), on one of the bright warm days of that phenomenal month, one of my dogs attracted my attention by his manœuvres on my lawn. I noticed him walking "stiff legged" about a circumscribed spot, now and then darting his muzzle towards the ground. On going to him I discovered that he had found a lot of snakes, which, influenced by the summer-like weather, had abandoned their den and had crawled out and were enjoying a sun-bath. These snakes were knotted together in a ball or roll, but I quickly discovered that they were all yearlings save one—the mother. I resolved then and there to test the maternal affection of the mother snake for her young, so I killed two of them and dragged their bodies through the grass to the paved walk which ran within a short distance of the nest. The old snake and the remainder of her brood took shelter in the den; I then retired to a little distance and awaited developments. In a very short time the mother emerged from the nest, and, after casting about for a moment or so, struck the trail of the young ones which had been dragged through the grass, and followed it to the dead bodies lying on the pavement. Here she met her fate at the hands of my iceman (whom I had called to witness the great sagacity of this lowly creature), for he had killed her ere I could prevent him.
On one occasion I saw a copperhead (Ancistrodon contortrix) in the midst of her young, and they seemed to be subservient to her beck and call. Before, however, I could satisfy myself positively that the old snake really held supervision over her brood, the gentleman with whom I happened to be came upon the scene, whereupon the interesting family disappeared beneath the undergrowth of the forest.
The higher animals sometimes show, unmistakably, that the maternal love of offspring has taken a step upwards, and that it has become, in a measure, refined by the addition of an æsthetic, if not ethical, element. For instance, a dog acquaintance of mine, on the advent of her first puppies seemed to be exceedingly proud of them; she not only brought them, one by one, to her mistress for admiration, but she also brought them in to show to her master, and yet again, to myself, who happened to be visiting her owner at the time. She deposited them, one by one, at the feet of the person whose regard she solicited, and, after they had been admired, she returned them to the kennel. Here, in my opinion, was an instance of pride, which has its prototype or exemplar in the pride of the young human mother who thinks that her baby is the handsomest child that was ever born! The dog's actions cannot be translated or interpreted otherwise. Again (and in this instance, strange to relate, the proud parent was the male), a cat brought his offspring, one by one, from the basement to my room, two stories above, in order to exhibit them! He brought them, one at a time, and, after each had been admired, carried them back to their box in the basement. Loud were his purs and extravagant were the curl of his tail and the arch of his back! No father of the genus Homo could more plainly evince his pride in his baby than did this cat in his kittens. The mother cat came with him on his first trip; she evidently did not quite comprehend, at first, the intentions of her spouse. She soon found out, however, that he meant no harm to her young, so she allowed him to work off his superabundance of pride without let or hindrance.
Birds will defend their young to their uttermost abilities and will often yield up their lives in unequal combats with the ravagers of their nests. Last summer I saw two jays whip in a fair fight a large cat, which had attempted to rob their nest. They seemed to have arranged the order of combat with one another before they attacked the would-be ravisher of their home. The male bird confined his attack to the cat's head, while the female went at its body with beak and talons. The song-sparrow which remembered the boy who killed the snake which was about to devour its young, and whose story I have told elsewhere, undoubtedly cherished and loved its young. The gratitude which could change the timid, wild nature of a bird in such a manner must have had its origin in a feeling, the depths of which can only be equalled in the psychical habitudes of the most refined of human beings! As we ascend higher in the scale of animal life, we find that new and refining elements are added to this love for the preservation of kind, until finally, in the civilized human being, it has lost its strictly material function and has become wholly and entirely ethical and æsthetic. Yet, far back in the beginning, the maternal love or parental love of the civilized human being was, fundamentally, based on no higher emotion than that engendered by an inherent love for kind-preservation.
Animals very frequently turn to man when they find themselves in difficulties and need assistance. The following instance of maternal love and trust in man in a horse was related to me not long ago, by a farmer[75] in whose probity and truthfulness I have implicit confidence. The horse in question, a mare, had been placed in a field some distance from the house, in which there was no other stock. The animal was totally blind, and, being in foal, it was thought best to place her there in order to avoid accidental injury to the colt when it was born. One night this gentleman was awakened by a pounding on his front porch and a continuous and prolonged neighing. He hastily dressed himself, and, on going out, discovered this blind mare, which had jumped the low fence surrounding the front yard, and which was pawing the porch with her front feet and neighing loudly. She whinnied her delight as soon as she heard him, and at once jumped the fence as soon as she ascertained its locality. She then proceeded toward the field, stopping every now and then to ascertain if he were following, and, when they arrived at the field, the horse jumped the fence (a low, rail structure), and proceeded toward a deep ditch which extended across one corner of the lot. When she came to the ditch or gully she stopped and neighed once or twice. The farmer soon discovered the trouble; the colt had been born that night, and, in staggering about, it had accidentally fallen into the ditch. He got down into the gully and extricated the little creature, much to the delight of its loving mother, which testified her joy and thankfulness by many a grateful and heartfelt whinny.
As I have indicated in the first part of the chapter, parental affection is an acquired emotion which has reached its acme in the civilized human being; yet the germs of this highly developed psychical manifestation are to be observed in creatures low in the scale of animal life. As psychos develops, we observe that this emotion becomes purer and more refined, until, in some of the higher animals, such as the monkey and the dog, it can hardly be distinguished from the parental affection of certain savages, who leave their children to shift for themselves as soon as they are "tall enough to look into the pot"; or, until, as Reclus declares of Apache babies, "they can pluck certain fruit by themselves, and have caught a rat by their own unaided efforts. After this exploit they go and come as they list."[76]