Animal sketches

Front matter

BBS

^«J«l§lwK imis

■«ssssiaar-5a««

Preface

My object in writing the Animal Sketches collected in this volume has been rather to stimulate interest, and, if it may be, to encourage observation, than to impart information. Seldom have I turned to books in preparing, at sundry times and in divers places, these sketches ; but hardly ever have I ventured to write without renewing my acquaintance with the subject in hand, in the country, at the Zoological Gardens, or in the Museum. Such information as I do impart can therefore in most cases be readily verified by any one who will take the trouble to obtain personal interviews with the subjects of the sketches. And if I may induce my younger friends, whom in especial I have had in view, to look with more observant and intelligent eyes on animals great and small, from the elephant to the honey-bee, their increased interest in the world of living things will be my sufficient reward.

I know not whether I ought to apologize for the familiar and conversational style which I have adopted — or rather, to speak more accurately, fallen into, for I am not conscious of having sought out any special style in which to elaborate my sketches. Nay, rather 1 have just let eye and hand play freely and easily over my subject, caring little for detail, and having no thought of elaboration. My sketches make no pretence of being either scientific memoirs or literary essays. As sketches, however, I have tried to make them accurate and faithful.

It is my pleasant duty to acknowledge my indebtedness to the Editors and Publishers of Atalanta and Murray s Maga¬ zine for their courteous permission to reprint articles which have appeared in their pages.

Bristol, November, 1891,

C. Lloyd Morgan,

Contents

Chapter page

INTRODUCTION . 1

I. —THE KING OF BEASTS . 9

Introduction

“ 0 world as God lias made it ! All is beauty.

And knowing this is love, and love is duty,”

Guardian Angel.

“ This world’s no blot for us Nor blank — it means intensely, and means good.

To find its meaning is my meat and drink.”

Fra Lippo Lippi.

I WISH to advocate for all young folk tlie claims of the study of nature. By the study of nature I mean, not the poring over books on science, nor minute investigations in the laboratory or the museum, but the habit of taking an interest — earnest, deep, and real — in all natural objects ft B

ANIMAL SKETCHES.

and natural operations. I want you, my young friends, to be, with Wordsworth’s Boy, to every mood of nature,

‘ ‘ As sensitive as waters are To the sky’s influence in a kindred mood Of passion : and obedient as the lute That waits upon the touches of the wind.”

I want you to feel that

‘ ‘ The earth

And common face of nature speak to you Rememberable things.”

And I want you to have an eye ever restless in its search for the beauty and the wonder of the world —

“ An eye

Which from a tree, a stone, a withered leaf,

To the broad ocean and the azure heavens Spangled with kindred multitudes of stars,

Could find no surface where its power might sleep.”

Do not think, however, that I am advocating the study of nature to the exclusion of the study of mankind. Remember that he who wrote the words that I have quoted wrote also the Two Voices and the Sonnet to Milton.

First of all, then, I would have you cultivate the spirit of interest — for you may cultivate as you may stunt, or even destroy, the varied germs of your nature. The child is generally brimful of keenest interest in the natural sights and sounds of the busy, restless world around him ; and we may encourage or snub this early tendency of the mind. The latter is, no doubt, the easier course. Snubbing requires no knowledge and leaves a comfortable sense of superiority; encouragement needs more knowledge than some of us possess. It requires patience and sympathy ; and since the young philosopher will no doubt press on

INTRODUCTION.

with questions which cannot be answered, even by the wisest of us, there remains, alas ! but little sense of superiority, nay, rather a sense of distress, that man should be so ignorant that a child can ask questions in reply to which we can but answer “ I do not know.”

But some will say “ May not snubbing after all be best ? Who wants his child to spend his life in collecting beetles, or labelling bits of rock, or spending his time over dried vegetables ? There are more important things in life than these to perform.” But I have not found that those who love to understand nature’s ways are more liable than others to leave important things undone, or to do them ill. Bid Charles Kingsley fail in these respects ?

I want you, I even implore you, to cultivate this interest in, this sympathy with, nature in all her moods and in all her manifestations. I would have you dull to no aspect of nature. I would have you know how the clouds are formed in the sky, and why they sometimes lie in wreaths on the mountain sides or in the valleys, sometimes form billowy masses near the earth, sometimes spread out in long streaks along the horizon, sometimes float in fleecy fragments in the upper regions of the atmosphere. I would have you know (from observation and not from reading only) what the rain-drops are doing in helping to model the surface of the earth, and what the collected rain-drops in streams and rivers can effect. 1 would have you understand why it is that in different parts of England you find different kinds of scenery. Why the scenery of the Isle of Wight differs from that of the Isle of Man, why the South Downs, the Cotteswolds, the Mendips, Exmoor, and the mountains of Wales all have their peculiar and characteristic stamp. Believe me, if you will be at the pains to learn how the elements of scenery are constituted, how form is dependent upon structure, you

A NIMA L SICE TCHES.

will find your interest and delight in the bays and promon¬ tories of our coast-line, the hills and valleys of our inland districts, increased and deepened many-fold.

I would have you, too, study the trees, and shrubs, and flowers with which nature invests and decks so lavishly and so gladly the bare bones of her sculptured scenes. Don’t say that you love the flowers too well to mar the effects of their beauty by a knowledge of their structure. Think you that Linnaeus, when he thanked God that he had been permitted to see the golden gorse, had lost his love of the beauty of flowers by his knowledge of their structure ? Depend upon it, that is but half enjoyment that leaves untouched the intellectual faculties.

And then I would have you observe, with ever-renewed sympathy, the animal world around you — the kitten that plays about your room ; the dog that gambols round you in your walks; the horse that lends us so willingly his strength ; the patient oxen and the “ mild and innocent ” sheep ; the hare and the white-tailed rabbit ; even the rats that infest our barns, and the mice that make us dream of ghosts ; the domestic fowl and all the choir of woodland songsters ; the snake that glides through the grass and the lizard that runs across our path ; the frog that croaks in the ponds and the ugly jewel-eyed toad ; the fish that dart through the water ; the sea-anemone that looks like a flower in the sea-side pools ; the crab, the limpet, and the star-fish on the rocks ; the spider in his silken web ; the butterfly that flits through the summer air, and the bee that, “as he hums along, seems to be talking heavily of the heat;” the midges that pester us on summer evenings, and all the myriad minutiae of insect life. I want you to take an interest in them all, each in his due degree. Each has his secret to tell you if you will only learn the language in which he tells it. But yon must listen with sympathetic

INTRODUCTION.

car. Sympathy is one of the great and beautiful bonds of life to life. Without sympathy you cannot study even a humble-bee aright. I heard the other day a story, which is perhaps worth repeating, of a young pupil-teacher who was dealing in stern severity with a class of somewhat refractory small urchins. “ Don’t you think,” said a clergyman standing near, “ that you would be more successful if you showed a little more sympathy ? I am sure you would lead them to obey you more readily.” “ Sir,” replied the pupil-teacher, “ I bend them to my will.” Now do not, I beg you, go and study nature in that spirit. It is one of the peculiarities of nature that she will not be moulded to one’s will. One must humour her. If you refuse to put yourself into sympathy with her, you may as well let her alone. But if you do go to work sympathetic¬ ally — that is, moulding your spirit to hers — you will induce her to whisper you the very secrets of her heart. I am sure that if you will only thus study nature you will find that you have added a new joy to life.

Not only so. I am persuaded that your appreciation of literature will be deepened. In descriptions of nature, you will be able to distinguish true gold from baser metal. You will see the force of a hundred analogies, which would otherwise have escaped you. Our great modern writers have nearly always been students of nature, and he only can rightly appreciate their works who is also a student of nature.

It has been said that the antithesis to poetry is not prose, but science. And there is truth in the saying. A scientific interpretation of nature often differs widely from a poetic interpretation of nature. But I trust that it does not necessarily follow that the man of science is incapable of appreciating poetry, or that the poet is and must be antagonistic to scientific investigation. The latter is

ANIMAL SKETCHES.

perhaps more frequently the case than the former. But surely in the richly-varied nature of man there is room for both poetry and science. A feeling for poetry may save the man of science from narrowness and a too mechanical interpretation of nature. A knowledge of scientific method may save the poet from vagueness and from wandering too far from the stern facts of existence.

And in the interpretation of nature, no matter at what point of observation, be it never so minute, you start, you will be led on in ever-widening circles throughout the whole broad universe. I have sometimes during one of the jdnasant breathing spaces in the ascent of a Swiss snow-peak yielded up my mind to the reverie which a single snow-flake would suggest, and the flake has told me its story ; has spoken of its former free existence in the ocean as a minute droplet, of its yet freer aerial life as the winds bore it mountain-wards, of its crystallization amid the fury of an Alpine storm, of its coming to rest where I found it ; and then of its future, the constrained motion in the glacier, the freedom of the mountain torrent, the stately flow of the great river in which it will participate, the final arrival once more in its ocean home. All this would the snow-flake suggest with a fulness which I need not here describe, and side avenues of thought would open out on all sides. Many scenes, for example, does the river of which the transformed snow-flake will form a constitu¬ ent atom, reflect in the mirror of its broad surface. The cottage and the hamlet are not less faithfully reflected than the castle and the populous city ; the sheep in the upland meadow are as clearly imaged as the deer in the broadstretching park ; sloping fields of corn and flax are mirrored as truly as ancient trees of stately growth. But in the upper reaches the reflections are only disturbed by the plash of the ferryman’s oars, while nearer the ocean the

INTRODUCTION.

I screw-blades of the ocean steamer leave a longer and more troubled track on the waters. From a Swiss snow-flake to an ocean steamer and all that it carries and implies may seem a long step, and you will say that it is merely a train of association of ideas which leads me from the one to the other. But I believe that this is only another way of stating the fact that so closely interwoven are the strands of causation that a perfect knowledge of the snow-flake’s history would involve nothing less than a complete know¬ ledge of the universe.

“ Flower in the crannied wall,

I pluck you out of the crannies ; —

Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,

Little flower — but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all,

I should know what God and man is.”

And if you are tempted to go deeper, and, following Tennyson in his poem, to come nearer to the heart of things, it is only in and through a study of nature that you can hope to understand what has been done during the last half century in philosophy. Within that time a new philosophy based on a deeper and wider study of nature has arisen, and has deeply influenced all our best thought. Only the student of nature can hope fully to appreciate its teaching.

Lastly, in the study of nature, you will find, I hope, a deep religious inspiration. On this subject I dare not speak at length, even if I had here the space, lest per¬ chance I should say too little, or too much. Few, I think, can stand untouched by a deep feeling of reverence in the presence of the wonders and the mysteries that are opened up by the study of nature. And here, perhaps, I may be permitted to reiterate a hope, which I have elsewhere expressed, that with ail our advances in science we shall

A NIMA L SKETCHES.

always keep our hearts open to the simplest and commonest daily occurrences. “ The daily light, fresh as a young child every morning, and dignified as the mellowness of age at even,” — I quote from Dr. James Martineau,— “the weari¬ ness of nature as she drops her leaves, the glee with which she hangs them out again, the silver mists of autumn, the slanting rains of spring, the sweeping lines of drifted snow, all are as the natural language of God — the turns of His Almighty thought — to the spirit that lies open to their wonder.” And again — “ The modest flower nestling in the meadow grass ; the happy tree, as it laughs and riots in the wind ; the moody cloud, knitting its brow in solemn thought; the river that has been flowing all night long; the sound of the thirsty earth, as it drinks and relishes the rain. These things are as a full hymn when they flow from the melody of nature, but an empty rhythm when scanned by the finger of art ”

Again I say, Let us all so live our life that our spirits may “ lie open to the wonder ” of these things ; then will the “ empty rhythm ” form an integral part of the “ melody of nature ” ; then, indeed, shall we be able to feel that “ beneath the dome of this Universe we cannot stand where the musings of the Eternal Mind do not murmur round us, and the visions of His loving thought appear.”

Chapter I. The King Of Beasts

“ De Lion, he wuz dere, kaze lie wuz de King, en he hatter be dere. En w’en de Lion shuck his mane, en tuck his seat in de big cheer, den de sessliun begun fer ter commence.” — Uncle Remus.

Is be king or coward ? That is a question which has been raised in these later unheroic days. We have been so accustomed to regard the lion as the type of kingly magnanimity, that it seems almost like listening to a piece of impiety when it is suggested that Leo the Magnificent is in truth a sneaking, cowardly, underhand beast, who cannot even meet a timid, soft-eyed antelope face to face, but always attacks his prey from the rear and in the dusky half-light of evening. And yet this is not only suggested but maintained with no little show of reason ; by those, too, who have hunted the lion and seen him in his native haunts. Dr. Sparrman says : “ From all the most credible accounts that I could collect concerning lions, as well as from what I saw myself, I think I may safely conclude that this beast is a great coward.” Livingstone also tells us that nothing he ever learned of the lion could lead him to attribute to this animal either the ferocious or the noble character so often ascribed to it ; and he makes invidious comparisons between the roar of the king of beasts and the voice of the ostrich ! Selous grants him his roar, considering

ANIMAL SKETCHES.

CHAP.

a chorus of lions the grandest sound in nature; he also, as does Dr. Sparrman, admits his courage when hungry or provoked ; but he questions his majesty. “ It has always appeared to me,” he says, “ that the word majestic is singularly inappropriate to the lion in its wild state, as when seen by daylight he always has a stealthy, furtive look that entirely does away with the idea of majesty. To look majestic he should hold his head high. This he seldom does. When at bay, standing with open mouth and gleam¬ ing eyes, holding his head low between his shoulders, and keeping up a continuous low growling, twitching his tail the while from side to side, no animal can look more unpleasant than a lion ; but there is nothing majestic or noble in his appearance.” Sir Samuel Baker, however, than whom there lives no higher authority, says of a lion he encountered, “ He rose majestically as we disturbed him by our noise in breaking through the bushes.” The hunter put a bullet through his shoulder, rolling him over wounded but not killed. He proceeded to reload, but the bullet stuck. In this perplexity his Arab hunter advanced to¬ wards the wounded lion, with his drawn sword grasped firmly in his right hand, while his left held his projected shield, and thus, unsupported and alone, this determined fellow marched slowly forward until within a few yards of the lion, which, instead of rushing to attack, crept like a coward into impenetrable thorns, and was seen no more. All this is to some of us very painful. We do not like to have our heroes — even our natural history heroes — proved to be less heroic than we had thought them to be. King Richard of the Lion’s Heart may not have been all that romance once painted him, but no one has yet accused him of cowardice. And yet the lion, his symbol and device, is written down a coward. What a shattering of ideals ! We have been wont to imagine that the one thing in nature

I. The King Of Beasts

that could quell him was the steady gaze of the human eye. We have loved to picture the noble hunter, whose gun has exploded or somehow gone wrong, and who therefore stands at the mercy of his splendid foe, gazing fearlessly at the king of beasts, who answers him for a while with a look as proud, but at last, unable to sustain the concen¬ trated power of man’s eye, turns and walks majestically into the thicket. Even as he turns we have fancied the danger hardly past, for Mr. Bingley tells us that “ one sweep of his tail will throw a strong man to the ground.” Have you ever tried, at a safe distance and through the bars of a cage, to stare the lion out of countenance ? In my experience he generally blinks at us sleepily and considers us beneath his notice. But I lately tried the experiment on a little wild cat at the Dusseldorf Zoological Gardens, and can safely say that had it not been for the wire network I should have had my eyes scratched out for my pains, so savagely did the little spitfire fly at me. A gentleman once tried the subduing effect of the human eye on an ostrich at the Cape. At first he thought that his theory was shown to be correct, for the bird sat down, flapped his wings, inflated his neck, and struck its flat stupid head against its hollow bony body. The effect could only have been temporary, however, for the gentleman was found some hours afterwards lying on his stomach, in such a position that his eye could no longer quell the stupid bird, which alternately jumped upon and sat upon his prostrate body. The great John Hunter, the anatomist, when his lion got loose at Earl's Court House, and his friends urged him to retreat to a safe place, trusted not to the power of his eye, but took out his handkerchief and flipped the beast back into his den. There is something, I say, painful in these disclosures. And I went to the Clifton Gardens the other day thinking mean and democratic

ANIMAL SKETCHES.

CHAP.

things of the king of beasts. King of beasts ! Scarce worthy to be called the king of cats ! But as I stood before Hannibal the Second — perhaps the finest captive lion in Europe — my democratic doubts vanished, and I became again a royalist pur sang. Whatever may be his conduct in action, in repose he looks every inch a king. And many would have us believe that this is now the sole surviving kingly function. In any case, the king of beasts in the popular mind the lion is likely to remain.

Many stories are told of the lion’s recollection and re¬ quital of acts of kindness. One of these I will quote : — In the reign of James the First Mr. Henry Archer, a watch¬ maker in Morocco, had two whelps given him, which had been stolen not long before from a lioness near Mount Atlas. They were a male and a female ; and till the death of the latter were kept together in the Emperor’s garden. He at that time had the male constantly in his bedroom, till it grew as tall as a large mastiff dog ; and the animal was perfectly tame and gentle in its manners. Being about to return to England, he reluctantly gave it to a Marseilles merchant, who presented it to the French king, from whom it came as a present to our king ; and for seven years afterwards was kept in the Tower. A person of the name of Bull, who had been a servant to Mr. Archer, went by chance with some friends to see the animals there. The beast recognized him in a moment, and by his whining voice and motions, expressive of anxiety for him to come near, fully exhibited the strongest symptoms of joy at meeting with a former friend. Bull, equally rejoiced, ordered the keeper to open the grate, and he went in. The lioned fawned upon him like a dog, licking his feet, hands, and face, and skipped and tumbled about, to the astonishment of all the spectators. When the man left the place the animal bellowed aloud, and shook his cage

I.

THE KING OF BEASTS.

in an ecstasy of sorrow and rage ; and for four days after¬ wards refused to take any nourishment whatever.

It is pleasant to read such stories, pleasanter perhaps than to be one’s self subjected to the blandishments of an affectionate lion. To have one’s face licked by one’s favourite soft-tongued dog requires an amount of affection at least equal to that of our canine friend. But if you have ever been licked by a cat you will have felt the difference between pussy’s tongue and Nero’s. The lion’s tongue is, like the cat’s, provided with a number of horny spines, by means of which the creature is able, very effectually, to rasp the meat from a bone. To be licked by a lion must therefore be something like being caressed by a warm damp nutmeg grater ; very touching, but hardly pleasant. The philosophy, or rather the psychology, of licking would seem to be as follows : There can be little doubt that the roughened spiny state of the tongue is of advantage to the cat tribe in cleaning their fur. We know how particular puss is in this respect. We know with what maternal fondness she licks her little ones. Her primary object is cleanliness ; but the affection she feels becomes associated with the act. And thus licking becomes an expression of endearment, very pleasant no doubt to Mr. Lion when coming from his spouse, but a little embarrassing one would think to mortals.

Of course you have seen the lions fed at the Zoo, and have noticed how they use the tongue then. Not many however have had the good fortune of the Hon. W. H. Drummond, who was able to watch a lion family enjoying a quiet meal at home in Africa. He once saw, towards evening, a lion pick out the leader of a herd of zebras, and lay the pretty striped creature dead at his feet. Then he sent forth a splendid and sonorous roar, which was answered from the direction in which the zebras had come ;

ANIMAL SKETCHES.

Chap. I

and soon Mrs. Lion and four whelps came up to join him. The little ones tore and worried at the dead zebra, but could not get through the tough skin. Then the lioness and her whelps politely lay down about five yards off, and waited till the head of the family had eaten a leg ; after which he in turn retired, and Mrs. Lion took her supper, while the whelps, quarrelling and snarling and fighting with each other, picked up a morsel here and there, the mother taking no notice of them except when they got in her way, at which times she soundly boxed their ears. Between them they left little but bones for the hungry vultures which were hovering near.

Lions as a rule prefer thus to kill their own prey, but they will sometimes not despise a dead carcase. When they grow old they often like to hang about the villages picking up what they can find, and killing goats and sheep, and if they get a chance, women and children. Hence the saying, “ His teeth are worn ; he will soon kill men.”

The whelps or chits, to use an old term long since diverted, are, like kittens, born blind, but I am informed by the keeper at the Clifton Gardens that their eyes are opened after two days instead of nine as with kittens. They are delightful, clumsy, kitten-like creatures, and are spotted, the spots not entirely disappearing for two years or more. I had an opportunity some little time ago of fondling one of these little princes, and letting him mumble my finger in his almost toothless mouth. He was really the most engaging little fellow. There are generally two or three, but sometimes as many as five in a litter. On one occasion a little lion-whelp had tottered forward to the front of the den, and I patted his head through the bars. I shall never forget the look which the lioness gave me as she rose with the utmost dignity, came forward slowly, took the whelp by the scruff of the neck, and car-

A Family Meal.

CHAV. i.

THE KING OF BEASTS.

1?

ried it back to the further end of the den. “ How dare you touch my child ! ” she seemed to say, or rather to look. But Mr Nettlesliip, who knows lions and how to paint them, to whom I mentioned this fact, observed, “ I dare say she was mightily afraid of you, and that was the meaning of her look.” So difficult is it to get at the thoughts of animals. Only a short time ago two little lions born at Clifton were sent out to some zoological gardens in India ; which seems a little like sending coals to Newcastle.

At the age of a year or somewhat earlier they begin to hunt for themselves, and then do a large amount of mis¬ chief, since they kill not only to appease their hunger, but to learn their trade. Like cats they often play with their prey, allowing it to escape and pouncing upon it again. This is often put down to wanton cruelty, but I think erroneously. The cat or kitten plays with the mouse not from innate cruelty, but for the sake of getting some little practice in the most important business of cat life. Only man, who has the capacity for nobler things, can be cruel for cruelty’s sake.

You cannot watch the lion* pacing to and fro in his den without noticing how like a cat he is, not of course in his colouring, but in his general build and gait. In the mane indeed he has an ornament, and more than an ornament, for it is probably a great protection to the neck in fighting, to which puss cannot aspire. And it is said that the wild lion seldom has so fine a mane as those we see in our zoological gardens and menageries. His tail too has a tuft of hair at the end, in the midst of which is a sharp horny spike, with which, according to some old writers, he goads himself to fury when he lashes his tail against his flanks. The eye of the lion is much smaller in pro¬ portion than that of the cat, and his muzzle is decidedly