No bird, it would seem, could be expected to manifest so little of generosity as the sparrow. As a rule, sparrows are remarkable for their ability to take care of themselves. Theirs is a nature which is based upon self. They are an avaricious species, and little they reck for their neighbors. As the eagle is known to treat the osprey, and the skua-gull its weaker brethren, so the sparrow has been known to act towards its neighbors. But exceptions exist to every rule, and we are pleased to record an honorable one in the case of this most detested species. Close by a maple-tree, which a pair of sparrows had appropriated and made the support for their home, dwelt a sturdy robin with his mate. Their home, a mud-lined domicile, was placed in the crotch of a small tree. Three children appeared in process of time to bless the happy couple. Everything went along smoothly and pleasantly with the robins, the sparrows being too much engrossed with their own affairs to think of giving them any trouble. But a tragedy soon happened which, sad to relate, foreboded evil and consequent death to the nest-full of young robins. Father and mother had, while searching for food for the little ones, been cruelly killed by a conscienceless sportsman. But the fledglings, which seemed doomed to die the death of starvation, were spared by some good genius who put it into the heart of the sparrows to pass that way, and thus was their sad and pitiable condition brought to the light of day. Their heart-rending appeals for food, combined with their orphaned situation, struck a sympathetic chord in the breast of the sparrows, and day after day these birds, whose chief concern naturally seems for self, might be seen acting the part of the good Samaritan towards these unfortunate of God’s children.
But let us now pass to that form of generosity which has been called Magnanimity. Few qualities in human nature are more noble than the capability of foregoing revenge when the offender is powerless to resist. This unwillingness to resent an injury, even though the power to do so is present in the individual, is what is implied by magnanimity. When we find those beings whom we designate brutes rising to a moral grandeur which few men can attain, disdaining to avail themselves of the opportunity of vengeance, and even rewarding evil with good, it does seem an utter absurdity to affirm that they are not acting under the inspiration of Him who gave us the celestial maxim, “Love your enemies.” By their actions they show themselves worthy of everlasting life, and what they deserve they will assuredly receive at the hands of Him who is Justice and Truth. Consciously, or unconsciously, the feeling of magnanimity is acknowledged among mankind. Even in the lowest stratum of society it is recognized. As with man, so with the lower animals; and there are many instances on record where the strong have disdained, no matter what the offence had been, to make reprisals upon the weak.
Bus and Jack are two dogs whose acquaintance I made three years ago. The one is a beagle, and the other a pug. No one that has seen these animals in their frolics and plays, would ever suspect that any differences could arise between them. But when such disagreements do occur, and there is hardly a day that does not witness a dozen or more, it is always Bus that is the instigator. The most trifling act upon the part of Jack will be made the cause of offence, and an excuse for the precipitation of a quarrel. In a rage, Bus will fly into the face of Jack, but the latter will coolly shake him off and walk leisurely away. No provocation will induce him to resent an insult or an injury, especially where Pug or a dog smaller than himself is concerned. It is not that he is afraid of Pug, for, when once aroused in the presence of equal or even superior strength, he becomes a terror. He is too magnanimous to avenge a wrong done him by one less powerful than himself. The look which he would give Pug, after one of these attacks had been made, was one of pure contempt, and said, as plainly as words could have said, “Your assaults are mere child’s play, and are unworthy of recognition by one who is so much your superior in feats of valor.” That Pug felt the meaning and force of the look was apparent, for he would always slink away abashed to some corner, where he would remain for an hour or two without showing himself. Over and over again has Jack allowed little dogs to bite him without troubling himself to retaliate; but if a big dog ventured upon an insult, that dog had to run or pay the penalty for his temerity. No dog could give a more disdainful look than Jack, and that look always gave him an easy and uninterrupted passage wherever he chose to go.
Other anecdotes of a similar nature might be given to show that animals can act magnanimously towards each other. That they are as capable of displaying the magnanimity of their nature towards men whom they hated has frequently been observed. The manager of a mill in Fifeshire, Scotland, was, according to Rev. J. G. Wood, very much disliked by the watch-dog, probably from some harsh treatment which the animal had received from his hands. One very dark night the manager had strayed from his path and fell over the dog. Seeing the mistake he had made, and finding that he could not recover himself, he gave himself up as lost, for the dog was a very powerful animal. But the dog was magnanimous enough to spare a helpless enemy, and to lay aside old grievances. Instead of seizing the prostrate man by the throat, as a brute would be expected to do, the dog only licked his face and exhibited his sympathy. Ever afterward the man and the dog were fast friends.
Just as there are animals capable of exercising great self-denial by giving to others what belongs to themselves, and even manifesting a generosity which would put human nature to the blush, so there are animals which can cheat like accomplished swindlers. As all Cheatery requires the use of the intellect, it is therefore evident that the most intellectual animals will be the most accomplished cheats. Dogs have shown themselves to be considerable adepts in cheating, and this we would naturally expect. Some curious and rather ludicrous instances of cheatery upon the part of the dog are noticed. We once knew a pair of dogs, a spaniel and a pug, that were inmates of the same house. They were very jealous of each other so far as the master was concerned, and neither could endure to see the other caressed. It happened that the spaniel was taken quite ill, and was in consequence very much cared for and petted. His companion, seeing the attention and sympathy that were bestowed upon him, pretended to be sick herself, and, going to a corner of the room, lay down upon the floor and looked the very picture of misery and distress. A cat and a dog, that for many years were members of the writer’s family, had taken a fancy to the same spot, a soft cushion at the head of a sofa. While they were the best of friends, yet a difference of opinion would occasionally arise, and a slight loss of temper would be the result. When the cat would be in the possession of the cushion, the dog would torment her in every possible way with the view of causing her to abandon the pet spot. He would pull at the cushion, seeking to drag it to the floor, or, seizing the occupant by the ear or tail, endeavor to dislodge her by force. But the cat, seemingly unmindful of what was going on, and the very impersonation of patience all the while, would refuse to give up so comfortable a couch. At last the dog hit upon a ruse which he knew would bring the cat down from the sofa. He rushed out into the kitchen, and began acting as though in pursuit of a mouse. He and puss had often engaged in such diverting business. This was more than the latter could stand. She was down from her cozy bed in an instant, and was soon by the side of the dog. But as soon as puss, all ablaze with excitement, had her head in a corner and was straining her eyes to get a glimpse of the supposed mouse, the dog ran to the sofa at full speed, jumped on the cushion, curled himself round, and was happy. Poor puss, perceiving that the dog had left her, was not slow to discern that she had been imposed upon by the latter, and that it was only a trick that had been played upon her by her shrewd companion, that he might get possession of the soft spot upon the sofa. She, however, bore it good-naturedly and decorously, and was ever afterward on the alert for these little tricks of her canine friend.
Birds can be as capable of cheating, not only each other, but other animals. A crow, belonging to John Smedley, a resident of Lima, Pa., was an adept in the business. When dinner was preparing, he would fly around the corner of the house, set up a terrific cawing as though in great distress, and when the mistress of the house, with whom he was a great favorite, would come out on a tour of investigation, the rascally bird would elude her and manage to steal round to the table in the opposite direction and seize what food suited him the best, which he would carry to the top of the house, where he would eat it at his leisure. No persuasions would induce him to come down, for he knew that such action was a breach of the peace, and he was fearful of the punishment, that of confinement to a cage, which would follow. When, however, he felt assured that his mistress had forgiven the wrong-doing, he would fly down to the porch, and do his utmost to convince her that he was a well-meaning bird, and that he was thoroughly ashamed of his actions. But there was one member of the family that utterly detested the bird. It was the dog Rover. Many a trick had the bird practised upon the latter, especially at meal time. Poor Rover was not allowed to eat in peace. When he would be wholly absorbed in his dinner, the crow would approach him in the rear, give him a severe twirl of the tail, and then in a twinkling fly to one side, looking the very picture of innocence. But ere the dog had recovered his self-possession and was ready to resume his feeding again, the bird had captured the daintiest morsel, and was off to the tree-top. Discomfited and outwitted, the dog would rush to the base of the tree, bark his growls of anger and defiance, while the crow would look quizzically down from above, and chuckle with delight.
Many of my readers may, perhaps, remember the story of the two dogs that used to hunt the hare in concert, the one starting the hare and driving it toward the spot where his accomplice lay concealed. I recall an instance where a somewhat similar arrangement was made, only the two contracting parties, instead of being two dogs, were a dog and a hawk, the latter making use of his wings in driving the prey out of the copse into the open ground. Innumerous examples of such alliances are known, and in all of them there is manifest the curious fact that two animals can arrange a mode of cheating a third. One of the principal stratagems used in war, that is the ambuscade, whereby the enemy is induced to believe that danger is imminent in one direction, when it really lies in the opposite and unsuspecting direction, is employed. No one would admit that a general who contrived to draw the enemy into an ambuscade acted by instinct. The act would be construed as proof of the possession of reasoning powers surpassing those of the adversary. And if this be the case with the man, why not with the dog, or with the raven or hawk, when the deception is carried out by precisely the same line of reasoning?
Beasts possess, in common with man, the sense of Humor. This is developed in many ways. Generally it assumes the phase of teasing or annoying others, and thus deriving pleasure or amusement from their discomfort. Sometimes, both with man and beast, it takes the form of bodily torture, the struggles of the victim being highly amusing to the torturer. Civilized man has now learned to regard the infliction of pain upon a fellow as anything but an amusement, and would rather suffer the agony than inflict it upon another. But with the savage it is otherwise, for there is no entertainment so fascinating as the infliction of bodily pain upon a human being. Among our Indian tribes, torture is a solemn usage of war, which every warrior expects for himself if captured, and which he is certain to inflict upon any prisoner whom he may happen to take. The tortures which he inflicts are absolutely fiendish, and yet a whole tribe will assemble around the stake, and gloat upon the agonies which are being borne by a fellow-creature. Similarly the African savage inflicts the most excruciating sufferings upon the man or woman accused of witchcraft, employing means too horrible to be mentioned. But in all these cases the cruelty seems to be in a great measure owing to obtuseness of perception. Yet the savage who binds his victim to a stake, and perforates the sensitive parts of his body with burning pine-splinters, behaves very much like a child who amuses itself by catching flies, pulling off their wings and legs, and watching their unavailing efforts to escape.
Many years ago cockchafers were publicly sold in Paris for children to torture to death. The amusement consisted in running a hooked pin through the insect’s tail, fastening a thread thereto, and watching the poor creature spin in the air. After the poor beetle was too enfeebled to expand its wings, it was slowly dismembered, the child being greatly amused at its endeavors to crawl, as leg after leg was pulled from the body. A similar custom, though in a more cruel form, prevails in Italy, the creatures which are tortured by way of sport being more capable of feeling pain than are insects. Birds are employed in this country for the amusement of children. A string is tied to the leg of the bird, and the unfortunate creature, after its powers of flight are exhausted, is generally plucked alive and dismembered. The idea of cruelty does not seem to enter at all in these practices, but they are done from the sheer incapacity of understanding that a bird or a beast can be a fellow-creature. Italians are notorious for their cruel treatment of animals, and if remonstrated with become very much astonished and reply, “Non è Cristiano,” that is to say, “It is not a Christian.” Englishmen have little to boast of on this score. Bear-baiting was abolished by the Puritans, not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators. Even at the present day, both in England and in this country, there is a latent hankering after similar scenes, and dog-fighting, rat-killing and cock-fighting, even though they are now contrary to law, are still practised in secret. Similarly the sense of humor is developed in the lower animals by causing pain or annoyance to some other creature, and the animal acts in precisely the same manner as a savage or a child.
Sparrows, as might be expected from their character, will gratify their feelings of aversion by banding together for the purpose of mobbing some creature to which they have an objection. In Hardwicke’s Science Gossip for December, 1872, there is a short account of a number of sparrows mobbing a cat. Evidently the cat had intended making a meal on one of the birds, but was greatly mistaken, for the sparrows dashed upon him so fiercely, that he soon turned tail and ran into the house, one of the sparrows actually pursuing him into the house. The poor cat ran up-stairs, and was found crouching in terror under one of the beds. This happened in London, where the sparrows are less numerous now than they used to be.