INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.
“The whole subject of the brute creation is to me one of such painful mystery, that I dare not approach it.”—Dr. Arnold.
“If we deny them soul, we must admit that they have some spirit direct from God, what we call unerring instinct, which holds the place of it.”—Sir Isaac Newton.
Any reflecting person who has lived much in the country, and been observant of animals, must have had thoughts similar to those expressed in the above mottoes. Even the smallest and most common animals sometimes give indications of thought, feeling, and memory, almost as remarkable as those related of the “half-reasoning elephant.” If we could penetrate into the mysteries of their domestic arrangements, and learn of the humming-bird why she makes her little thimble of a nest so exactly the color of the tree on which it is placed, and of the mason-bee why he makes his small mortared cell to resemble so closely the stones of the wall where he inserts it, we should probably be still more puzzled to define the boundary between instinct and reason.
Several times in my life my attention has been arrested, and my mind excited to activity, by singular manifestations of intelligence in animals that came under my observation. A few summers ago, when I was living at an old farm-house in New York, I chanced to go into the garret late in the afternoon. The sun was setting in a blaze of glory, and I knelt at the western window, looking out long and lovingly upon the broad expanse of field and meadow, on which he was throwing a shower of gold as he passed away. After a while, my attention was diverted from this beautiful scene by the motions of a wasp, that emerged from a crevice in the old window, and began to nibble off thin, soft slivers of the decaying wood, to be used in constructing her nest. I bent very near to her, trying to ascertain by what process she cut up the materials so dexterously. Suddenly, she stopped working, drew back a little, and appeared to watch me as closely as I watched her. At first, I thought this was a delusion of my imagination; for I supposed her eyes were too small to see me. So I continued gazing at her, waiting to observe what she would do. She remained motionless, in an attitude that expressed surprise and consternation as plainly as an insect could express them. Presently, another wasp came up from the same crevice, and began to nibble at the rotten wood. The first wasp immediately put out one of her antennæ, and pulled the antenna of her neighbour, as I would jog the elbow of a companion, if I wished to call her attention to something extraordinary. The second wasp drew back instantly, in the same attitude, and, without stirring, appeared to gaze at me fixedly. A third wasp came. One of her antennæ was cautiously pulled by the second comer; and she did precisely as they had done. It may seem absurd to say I was troubled by the fixed stare of three wasps; but there was something so human about their proceedings, that I was troubled. I was in the presence of a mystery. I asked myself, What am I to them? Do I appear like a vision of some superior being from another world? From this thought, I came down to the recollection that the sun was gleaming brightly on my eyes, and that, perhaps, their attention had been arrested merely by two great orbs of glittering light. What were they thinking of? Would they finally conclude to attack my eyes? I turned away suddenly, deeming it imprudent to stay any longer to ascertain that point. I was so much impressed by this little incident, that I frequently related it to my friends; and for years afterward, I frequently found myself conjecturing what those wasps thought of the apparition by which they were so obviously startled.
At the same farm-house there were two cats. Tom, who was old, heavy, and cross; and Mouser, who was remarkably active and nimble. Her hunting qualities were famous throughout the neighbourhood. She kept the premises clear of rats and mice, and visited all the barns and fields in the vicinity for the same purpose. While I was there, she had three kittens, which seemed to be the especial objects of Tom’s ill nature. When they began to open their eyes and stagger about, they sometimes stumbled over him; for which they were sure to receive a smart box on the ear. More than once, I saw his heavy paw knock the little blundering things topsy-turvy when they came near him. He even kept up a threatening growl if they seemed to be approaching from a distance. Things were in this state, when Mouser came into the kitchen one day, writhing and moaning, and giving every indication of great pain. Her body soon began to swell, and her manifestations of suffering grew more and more violent. The family were remarkably kind to animals, and Mouser was such a valuable creature, that they were very desirous to save her life. They knew not whether she had been poisoned, or kicked by the horse, during her frequent visits to the barn; and of course, they were doubtful what remedies to apply. They put her in a warm bath, and tried to pour catnip tea down her throat; but their efforts were unavailing. In an hour or two, poor pussy was dead.
While she was in this agonizing extremity, Tom seemed to rouse from his usual state of drowsy indifference. He lay with his head between his paws, watching her earnestly for awhile; then he rose up and walked round her, evidently much disquieted. When he saw her lying stiff and cold on the floor, he made no whining noise; but his proceedings seemed to indicate that he knew what had happened. The kittens were nestled together on the platform of the old Dutch “stoop.” He went out to them, and began to lick their fur in the most affectionate manner. After that, he was never seen to knock them about, and never heard to growl at them. Their own mother could not have treated them with more tenderness, or submitted to their gambols with more patience. Apparently, they mistook the gruff old fellow for their mother; for they went to him for nourishment, and he made no resistance. Again and again, I saw him stretched on the floor of the “stoop,” while the kittens appeared to be sucking with all diligence, moving their little paws, as if satisfied and happy. This circumstance, of course, excited surprise in the family. One asked another whether it was possible that they obtained milk, or whether they drew blood for their sustenance. Tom never gave any indications of suffering inconvenience from this singular imitation of the maternal office. He must have nourished them in some way; for they did not learn to lap milk for several days; yet they lived, and seemed comfortable and thriving. After Tom took upon himself the care of the orphans, he seemed to become really fond of them, and to enjoy the frolics that had formerly made him so angry. The voluntary exercise of benevolence improved his temper wonderfully for the time being, and evidently made him a much happier cat.
An intimate friend has often mentioned to me incidents that occurred on his farm, illustrative of brute sagacity. He owned a noble great ox, uncommonly strong, docile, and intelligent. One day, when he and another ox were ploughing swampy land, they sank very deep into a quagmire. Having made vigorous exertions to extricate himself, and finding the utmost exertion of his strength was ineffectual, he quietly waited for human aid. But his companion had an impatient and irritable disposition, to which the lessons of experience could teach no wisdom. He continued to struggle violently, at intervals, and every motion wrenched the neck of his suffering yoke-fellow. The gentle creature bore it patiently for a while; but at last it became insupportable. His owner was standing completely behind him, leaning on the plough, until more help could be brought to draw them out of the “slough of despond,” into which they had fallen. The much-enduring animal turned his long neck slowly round, and fixed his large patient eyes upon the man, with such an earnest, imploring gaze, so human in its expression, that it could never be forgotten. It said, as plainly as a look could say it, “Can you not contrive some way to relieve me from this tormenting companion?” His owner understood the silent appeal, and immediately divorced the unhappy couple, by removing the yoke from the restless one; thus leaving him free to waste his own strength, without injuring his more philosophic companion. This happened fifteen years ago; but I was reminded of it yesterday, by hearing my friend utter his often-repeated exclamation: “If I live to be a hundred years old, I shall never forget how that ox looked at me.”
The same person often speaks of the sagacity manifested by another ox on his farm. It was late in the evening, and all the animals were safely lodged in the barn, when his attention was arrested by loud knocks in that direction. They continued to be repeated, at intervals of ten or fifteen minutes, for an hour or more; and the idea that some vagrant might be in the barn doing mischief, at last induced him to go out with a lantern to examine the premises. Finding nothing unusual, he gave up the search and retired to rest. But the heavy, measured sound continued, and excited curiosity to such a degree, that it was impossible to sleep. Another examination of the barn was made with the same result as before; but this time, my friend ensconced himself in a corner, and waited for a recurrence of the mysterious noise. In a few minutes, he saw an ox raise one of his hind hoofs, and strike the floor heavily three times. Supposing the animal must have some cause for dissatisfaction, he examined his stable, and found that the man had forgotten to furnish the usual supply of fresh straw for him to lie down upon. His demand for clean sheets was complied with, and no more knockings were heard from him.
Another agricultural friend owned a colt endowed with uncommon beauty and intelligence. He was about a year and a half old when he first saw a string of bells suspended round his mother’s neck when she was harnessed for a drive. The novel sound immediately arrested his attention, and seemed to enliven him greatly. He stood with uplifted ears, watching and listening, till the sleigh had passed out of sight and hearing; then, giving a snort and a rear, he capered round the barn-yard, in a state of unusual excitement. When the mare returned, the sound of the bells attracted him from afar, and he appeared to observe them closely when they were taken off and laid in the sleigh with the harness. As soon as the man had left them, the playful creature seized them between his teeth and trotted up and down the road, shaking them with prodigious satisfaction. This manner of playing old horse was evidently as entertaining to him, as it is to a boy to imitate the trainers with his feathered cap and drum.