The rabbits introduced into Australia, where they found conditions ideally favorable to their increase, have multiplied so exceedingly that they have become a veritable pest. In a brief period, the progeny of a few rabbits has multiplied into millions, and these creatures have become so destructive of agriculture that rabbit-killing parties are organized from time to time and tens of thousands of the animals are killed with sticks and stones, in open places, the object being to exterminate as many rabbits as possible in the interest of the farmers’ crops.
In 1850, some enterprising citizens of Brooklyn imported a hundred English sparrows and gave them to the free city air. A little later, New York City imported two hundred and twenty of the noisy birds and liberated them in the parks of the metropolis. Rochester imported one hundred of the birds, and Philadelphia, with generous public spirit, opened the bosom of brotherly love to one thousand of the little strangers whose perpetual chatter formed a striking contrast to the worshipful quiet dear to the heart of the Quaker City. In the parks, among the trees, and in the streets of these cities, the sparrows—at home everywhere—twittered and quarreled in their friendly way, and multiplied. In twenty-five years the children of these birds had spread over five hundred square miles. Ten years later they had flung their domain over fifteen thousand square miles, and men were beginning to doubt the wisdom of those who had invited them to our shores. Since then the ubiquitous sparrow has about completed the conquest of the continent. Darting like an arrow amongst horses’ feet, or dodging hurrying automobiles, his legions are familiar sights among the traffic of busy streets. He builds his rude nest under the eaves of houses, and in the architectural pockets around the roofs of public buildings, and thrives and multiplies through his wary association with man. The phenomenal increase in the number of sparrows in North America during a period of seventy years has been due to the gregarious habit of these birds and to the favorable character of the environment.
Fig. 43.—Joe and Sallie at Home.
A Chimpanzee couple of Edward’s Zoological Exhibition. From Dr. Paul Carus’s “The Rise of Man.” Courtesy of The Open Court Publishing Co.
Some animals tend to multiply ten fold in a generation; some would multiply to a hundred fold, and others to ten thousand fold. Not only could the progeny of any land animal, if given the right of way, soon crowd the earth, but the fishes, under favorable conditions, would, in a short time, literally fill the sea. A million eggs are spawned by the cod-fish in order that two cod-fish may reach maturity. The eel also spawns millions of ova that a few eels may reach the spawning age. It is clear, therefore, that if all these eggs produced fishes, and if these reached maturity and in their turn multiplied with such lavish prodigality, a few generations would suffice to transform the ocean into a solid mass.
The same phenomenon obtains in the plant world. Every plant gives its seeds to the soil as Autumn’s spendthrift hand gives its withered leaves to the wind, but of the millions of seeds thus scattered, comparatively few take root and mature and reproduce their kind.
Notwithstanding Nature’s tremendous efforts to overwhelm the earth with the creatures of every species, the checks upon over-population are so numerous and so effective that, speaking generally, the number of animals and plants in any given area where the conditions are unchanging remains fairly constant. This relatively rigid limitation of the number of creatures that shall survive in any environment is due to the operation of Nature’s efficient machinery whose grim function is the destruction of life.
Millions of creatures live only by devouring other creatures. The carnivorous animals eat the flesh and drink the blood of the herbivorous. The larger carnivores feed upon the smaller. That the badger may make a meal, a whole nest of bees must be destroyed. The ant-eater swallows a tongue load of ants at a single gulp. The eagle and the hawk dine on doves and other birds. To the appetite of smaller birds are sacrificed worms, insects and larvae. Big fishes eat the little ones; bigger fishes eat the eaters and in turn are eaten. On land, in the air, and in the sea the incalculable sacrifice of life proceeds without cessation. Pursuit and flight, capture and death—a tragedy on which the curtain never falls!
This is the struggle for existence. In this struggle which, in a sense, is a constant test of skill, the most highly qualified creatures are the ones best adapted to catch their prey or to escape their enemies. Differing from their parents and from one another in numerous variations, some animals excel others in important respects—in having stronger legs with which to run, better eyes with which to see, a keener sense of smell, hearing more acute, and teeth and claws better fitted to hold and rend their prey. To the animal that would obtain food or avoid being eaten, some or all of these characters are prime essentials. In the struggle for existence the animals possessing these attributes in superior form will survive while those in which they are less developed must perish.