Part 29

Taking these characteristics in order, Pride, or Self-esteem, is developed as fully in many animals as in the proudest of the human race. Most conspicuously is this shown in animals which herd together. There is always one leader at the head, who will not permit any movement to be made without his order, and who resents the least interference with his authority. This is particularly the case with the deer, the horse and the ox. Even when these animals are domesticated, and the habits of their feral life have materially changed, the feeling of pride exists to the fullest extent.

Whoever has carefully watched and studied the inhabitants of a farm-yard cannot fail to have observed that the cows have their laws of precedence and etiquette as clearly defined as those of any European Court. Every cow knows her own place and keeps it. She will never condescend to take a lower, nor would she be allowed to assume a higher. A new-comer in a farm-yard has about as much chance of approaching the rack at feeding-time as a new boy at school has of getting near the fire on a cold winter day. But as the young calf increases in growth, and is nearing maturity, she is allowed to mingle with her companions on tolerably equal terms. Should, however, a younger animal than herself be admitted, it is amusing to see with what gratification she bullies the new-comer, and how much higher she ranks in her own estimation when she finds she is no longer the junior.

But should the fates be propitious, and she should arrive at the dignity of being senior cow, she never fails to assert that dignity on every occasion. When the cattle are taken out of the yard to their pasture in the morning, and when they are returned to it in the evening, she will not allow any except herself to take the lead. An instance is recorded where the man in charge of a herd of cows would not permit the “ganger,” as the head cow is often called, to go out first. The result was that she refused to go out at all. Therefore, to get her to go out of the yard, the man had to drive all the other cows back again, so that she might take her proper place at the head of the herd.

Few people know much about the real disposition of the mule. Judging from popular ideas respecting the animal, one would think that it had no pride in its composition. It is in reality a very proud animal, and fond of good society. One of his most striking characteristics is his aversion to the ass, and the pride which he takes in his relation to the horse. An ass would be hardly safe in a drove of mules, for he would, in all probability, be kicked and lamed by his proud relatives; whereas a horse, on the contrary, takes a distinguished position, the mules not only crowding around him and following his movements, but exhibiting a violent jealousy, each striving to get the nearest to their distinguished relative.

We have seen the pride of rank and love of precedence in cows, and the pride of ancestry in mules. There is, however, a pride that takes the form of sensitiveness to ridicule. Nothing is so galling to a proud man as to find himself the object of ridicule. The same trait of character is to be found in many animals, and especially in those that have been domesticated, for it is in these that we have the most opportunities for observation. All high-bred dogs are exceedingly sensitive to ridicule. We knew of a cat that was quite conscious if spoken of in a disparaging manner, and testified his disapprobation by arching his tail, holding himself very stiff indeed, and marching slowly out of the room.

There is, however, another form of pride which is often to be seen among the lower animals, but more especially among birds notable for gaudy or abundant plumage. This is the pride which manifests itself in personal appearance. Vanity is the name which is currently applied to this form of pride. Those who have observed a peacock in all the glory of his starry train will recognize the intense pride he feels at his own splendor. This display of his magnificent train is not for the purpose of attracting the homage of his plainly-attired mates solely, but seems to be intended to evoke the admiration of human beings as well. Not even the homage of birds, whom he regards his inferiors, is to be despised.

We have seen him, with his train fully spread, displaying his grandeur around a dozen or more barn-yard fowls, and apparently as satisfied with the effect he produced, as he stalked majestically among them, as if he had been surrounded by his own kith and kin. Then there is the turkey. No movements are more grotesque than his. See him as he struts about in his nuptial plumage, and yet no bird, notwithstanding the ludicrousness of his behavior, surveys himself with greater complacency. The whidah-bird, or widow-bird, as it is often called, exhibits this trait of character in its highest development. He is wonderfully proud of his beautiful tail, and, as long as he wears it, loses no opportunity of displaying it to every person who visits his cage. But when the moulting season has arrived, and he has taken on the plain, tailless attire of his mate, a change as great has come over his manner, and, instead of exhibiting himself in all his pride and glory, he mopes listlessly and stupidly about, and seemingly ashamed of his mean condition. In all these instances the character of pride in personal appearance is as strongly developed as it is possible for it to be in any human being.

That peculiar uneasiness, which arises from the fear that a rival will dispossess us of the affection of one whom we love, or the suspicion that he has already done so, is termed jealousy. There are two forms of this passion, one connected with the love of some other being, and the other dependent on the love of self. But it is the former, whose definition begins the present paragraph, with which we shall exclusively deal. It is evident from the meaning of jealousy, as given above, that the power of reasoning is implied, and that any creature by which it is manifested must be able to deduce a conclusion from premises. No matter if the conclusion drawn by the animal be wrong, the process, however incorrect it may be, is, it cannot be denied, still one of reasoning. All who have possessed pet animals must be familiar with the exceeding jealousy displayed by most of them. Most strongly is this feeling manifested when an animal has been the only pet and another is introduced into the house. Where there are two or more dogs in the same family, one is often amused at the boundless jealousy displayed toward each other while engaged in the service of the master, although at other times they were on the most excellent terms. Bus is the name of a favorite dog belonging to a friend. No more affectionate dog ever lived. Beagle was his companion. When they were by themselves, life was a round of frolics and rambles. No matter how rough and exciting their plays were, they never got cross, but endured everything with patience and forgiveness of spirit. Beagle was a clever animal, and very fond of the chase. Many a ground-hog would he dislodge from its burrow and fight to the death, while Bus would look on with wonder and admiration. But let the slightest attention be shown by the master to Beagle, and Bus’s jealousy and anger became unbounded. He would fly at his friend in the most infuriated manner, rending him with tooth and claw, while Beagle would quietly slip around the corner of the house to get out of the reach of his companion’s temper. Beagle, being a large and powerful dog, had in him the ability to give Bus a very sound whipping, but he was too noble and magnanimous a creature to take advantage of one younger and smaller than himself. He would always allow Bus to have his own way, knowing that the passion which was lacerating the bosom of his young companion and playmate would soon spend itself, and the latter, ashamed and abashed, would be soon seeking forgiveness and reconciliation.

Even in such rarely tamed animals as the common mouse the feeling of jealousy has been known to be so intense as to lead to murder. A young lady, one of Rev. J. G. Wood’s correspondents, had succeeded in taming a common brown mouse so completely that it would eat out of her hand and suffer itself to be taken off the floor. She had also a tame white mouse in a cage. One morning when she went to feed the white mouse, as was her usual custom, she found it lying dead on the bottom of the cage, and beside it was its murderer, the brown mouse. The cage being opened, the latter made its escape, as though fearful of the consequences that might ensue, but how it had managed to gain admission was always a mystery.

Instances are on record where the jealousy of a rival has been restrained for long years through fear, and has ultimately broken out when the cause of the fear has been removed. A case of the kind came under our notice some few years ago. There were two cocks, belonging to different breeds, whom fate had placed as denizens of the same family. One was a magnificent dunghill cock, and the other a Malay, a cowardly caitiff, that was kept in fear and subjection by the former. In the course of events the dunghill cock suddenly died. His rival, coming by chance on his dead body, and perceiving that the time had come to wreak out the mixture of hatred and revenge that had lain smouldering in his bosom for years, instantly sprang upon it, kicked, spurred and trampled upon the lifeless bird, and, standing upon the corpse, flapped his wings in triumph, as it were, and crowed himself hoarse with the most disgusting energy. He immediately took possession of the harem, but he was far from being the noble, generous and unselfish creature that his predecessor had been. Again, comparing man with beast, it is at once apparent that the bird in this instance acted exactly as a savage does when his enemy has fallen, for the savage not only exults over the dead body of an enemy, especially if the latter has been very formidable in life, but also mutilates in futile and silly revenge the form which he feared when alive.

Tyranny, or the oppression of the weak by the strong, is another of the many traits of character common to man and the lower animals. But whether or not that strength belongs to the body or the mind, it is tyranny all the same. Taken in its most obvious form, it not only manifests itself in many of the animals in the oppression of the weak by the strong, but also in the killing and the eating of the same, even though they be of the same species. Human cannibals act in just the same manner, eating their enemies after they have killed them. There is hardly an animal in which the milder forms of tyranny may not be found. Insects, especially, manifest it in a light manner when they drive away their fellows from some morsel of food which they desire to keep to themselves. Among gregarious animals, the herd or flock is always under the command of an individual who has fought his way to the front, and who will rule with imperious sway until he has become old and in turn has been supplanted by a younger and more vigorous rival. In the poultry-yards the same form of tyranny is manifest, one cock invariably assuming the leadership, no matter how many may be the number of birds.

There is a curious analogy between these birds and human beings, especially those of the East, whether at the present day or in more ancient times. Many petty chieftains are found in Eastern countries, but there is always to be met with one among them who is more mighty than the rest, and who holds his place by superior force, either of intellect or military power. Challenged by one of the inferior chiefs and victorious, he retains his post, but if vanquished, his conqueror takes his place, his property and his wives. But curious to relate, with men as with birds, the members of the harem seem to trouble themselves very little, if any, about the change of master. The Scriptures are full of allusions to the invariable custom that the conqueror takes the possession of the harem belonging to the vanquished. David did so with regard to the women of Saul’s household, and when Nabal died, who had defied the authority of David, so the latter, as a matter of course, took possession of his wife, together with the rest of his property. And when Absalom rebelled against David, he publicly took possession of his father’s harem, which was a sign that he had assumed the kingdom.

Where a number of creatures are confined in the same place, a very curious sort of tyranny is sometimes manifested. Mandarin ducks, according to Mr. Bennett, when confined to an aviary, show a very querulous disposition at feeding-time. The males of one and the same kind of a different species endeavor to grasp all the nourishment for themselves, unmindful of the wants of others, and will not even permit their companions to perform their ablutions without molestation, although they may themselves have completed what they required. Often the mandarin ducks have been observed to excite the drakes to assail other males or females of the same species, and other kinds of birds in the aviary, against whom the ladies, from some cause or other, have taken a dislike. One pair of these ducks are always to be noticed that exercise a tyranny over the others, not allowing them to wash, eat or drink, unless at their pleasure and approval.

But, of all tyrants, none can be compared to a spoiled dog, who is even worse than a spoiled child. Obedience is a stranger to his nature. Does his master want him to go out for a walk, and he prefers to stay at home, he stays at home, and his master is compelled to go out without him. But if he wants to go for a walk, he makes his master go with him, and even to take the direction he prefers. Duchie is the name of a Skye terrier whose history is given in a work on the latter breed of dogs by Dr. J. Brown. So completely had this little animal domineered over her mistress, that the latter could not even choose her own dinner, but was obliged to have whatever the dog preferred. It is related that for a half of a winter’s night she was kept out of bed, because Duchie had got into the middle and refused to move. Certainly, no better example of tyranny could be adduced.

That so-called brutes possess, in common with ourselves, a Conscience, that is, a sense of Moral Responsibility, and a capability of distinguishing between right and wrong, may seem a very strange assertion to be made, especially to those who have never studied the ways of the lower animals. Animals which are placed under the rule of man, and those, like the dog, which belong to his household and are made his companions more particularly, would naturally be expected to show the strongest development of the principle. Conscience, in their dealings with man, constitutes their religion, and they often exercise it in a way which would put many a human being to the blush. This feeling it is that induces the dog to make himself the guardian of his master’s property, and often to defend that property at the risk of his life. However hungry may be the dog that is placed in charge of his master’s dinner, nothing would, as a rule, tempt him to touch a morsel of the food, for he would rather die of starvation than eat the food which belongs to his master. Often have we seen field-laborers at work at one end of a large field, while their coats and their dinner were at the other end, guarded by a dog. Not the least uneasiness did they seem to manifest about the safety of their property, for well they knew that the faithful animal would never allow any one to touch either the clothes or the provisions.

There could hardly be a stronger instance of moral responsibility than the one which I shall now relate, which is substantially the same as appears in Wood’s “Man and Beasts Here and Hereafter.” Living in an unprotected part of Scotland was a poor woman, who unexpectedly became possessed of a large sum of money. She would have taken it to the bank, could she have left the house, but lack of bodily health prevented her from so doing. At last she asked the advice of a butcher of her acquaintance, telling him that she was afraid to live in the house with so much money about her. “Never fear,” said the butcher, “I will leave my dog with you, and I’ll warrant you that no one will dare to enter your house.” Towards the close of the day the dog was brought, and chained up close to the place where the money was deposited. That very night a robber made his way into the house and was proceeding to carry off the money, when he was seized by the dog, who held him a prisoner until assistance arrived. The thief turned out to be the butcher himself, who thought he had made sure of the money, but he had not considered that his dog was a better moralist than himself, for who would, rather than betray a defenceless woman, take her part against his own master. Kindly pardoned by the woman, the intending robber made his way home, and it is to be hoped that for the future he learned a lesson from his own dog and amended the evil of his ways.

Not only does the dog guard the property which is intrusted to its charge, but frequently goes a little further and assumes a charge on its own account. When the writer was a boy living in the country, where much of the spring and summer of the year was spent in working upon a farm, he became on very excellent terms with a little bull-terrier, named Tip, that belonged to a certain farmer by whom he was employed. Upon my first introduction to Tip, I felt a sort of aversion towards him. This grew out of the mysterious actions of the animal. He was always around when I was busy at work and seemed to be eying me in a suspicious sort of manner, which at times made me feel very unpleasant. After the lapse of a few days I discovered that I was not so closely watched as before, and that I was treated by him as he was accustomed to treat the other members of the family. Upon inquiry I learned that he always acted in this way toward people whom he did not know intimately, and that, after a time, he had confidence in their honesty and left them alone. While in many instances Tip was entirely wrong in his surmises, yet cases are recalled where the dog was right and acted in a manner that would have been creditable to a human being. One of the men employed upon the place, presuming upon the friendship of the dog, sought to carry away under cover of darkness something belonging to the farmer, but he was immediately beset by the animal, who was an eye-witness of the proceeding, and compelled to desist from the intended theft. From that time the man was under the closest surveillance by the dog. Unable to effect a reconciliation, and chafing under the look of suspicion with which he was always greeted, the man soon took his departure, much to the delight and satisfaction of the faithful canine, and was never afterwards seen.

Quite a common form of conscience among the lower animals is that which may be defined as a recognition of having done wrong, and acknowledgment that punishment is deserved. Animals have in their way very pronounced ideas as to right and wrong. When they have committed an act which they know will offend their master, they display as keen a conscience as any human being self-convicted of sin could exhibit. In many instances, the offence in not merely acknowledged, but the creature remains miserable until forgiveness has been granted. This condition of mind, if manifested by man, is called Penitence, and, assuredly, it cannot be known by any other name when manifested by animals that are lower down in the scale of life. My little dog Frisky, about whom mention has already been made, affords a very fine illustration of this phase of conscience. Whenever he did wrong, the severest punishment that could be meted out to him was to ignore his presence and decline his offered paw. For hours the poor fellow would moan and cry, and even refuse food, when he thought I was angry with him. But a word or a look of forgiveness was sufficient to change his sadness into joy. A shaking of hands, so to speak, would then follow, and master and dog would be good friends again. No love could be more intense than his, and this was especially shown when I would return from a short absence, when the little fellow would almost overwhelm me by his affectionate caresses.

No loftier characteristic adorns humanity than Love. But how far it is shared by the lower animals it is now our purpose to inquire. That there are many phases of development cannot be doubted. Sympathy, or that capacity of feeling for the sufferings of another, is the first phase. Many, and perhaps all, living creatures possess the capacity of sympathy. In the majority of cases it is not restricted to their own species, but is extended to those beings which appear to have very little in common with each other. Ordinarily, however, it is exhibited between animals of the same species, and it is often seen in the dog, as, for example, where a dog, having been cured of an injury, has been observed to take a fellow-sufferer to his benefactor. Such sympathy, it need hardly be remarked, could not be carried out unless the animals possessed a language adequately defined to enable them to transmit ideas from one to the other. Cats are often kind to each other, sympathizing under difficulties, and helping their friends who require assistance. A cat, belonging to a friend, has been known, when oppressed with the cares of a family, to employ a half-grown kitten to take charge of the young while she went for a ramble. Between the cat and the dog an enmity exists that is hereditary, and yet, when in good hands, they are sure to become very loving friends, and even to show considerable sympathy towards each other. Such an exhibition of good feeling was observed by the writer a few years ago. The dog, a large black Newfoundland, had contracted a warm and devoted friendship for a gray cat that was an inmate of the same family. When the cat was assailed by one of her kind, or by a strange dog, the Newfoundland would pick her up in his mouth and carry her to the house out of reach of danger, the cat maintaining all the while the most perfect serenity of composure, knowing that she was in the care of one who meant her no ill. When the same cat would become sick, the Newfoundland would lie down by her side, caress her with his tongue, and show in every way possible that he was sorry that she was sick.

Many examples are recorded of birds feeling sympathy with the lost or deserted young of other species, and that have taken upon themselves the task of feeding the starving children. A pair of robins had constructed a nest near to the writer’s home in the country, where in due season a family of four children was raised. Disaster soon came to the little ones, for both parents were slain by some wicked boys of the neighborhood. There dwelt in the same locality a pair of bluebirds, but between the two families there had never been apparent the least interchange of friendship. Each family kept to itself, and attended to its own business. But when the cry of the young robins in their piteous demands for food rent the air, the bluebirds came over to their home to discover what the trouble was. They were not slow to perceive the sad state of things. Their sympathies were at once aroused, and their energies soon bent in the direction of relieving the sufferings of the little orphaned robins. For the next two weeks they had all they could do in providing meat for their own and the robins’ young.