University of Virginia Library

16. INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS.

—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.

The natural dispositions of animals differ, as do
those of mankind; but the intelligence and docility
of brutes, as well as of human beings, is wonderfully
increased when they are judiciously reared,
and treated with habitual kindness. It is not easy
to tell how far the superiority of Arabian horses
may be attributed to the affectionate companionship

that exists between them and their masters.
The whip is a detestable instrument. The evil it
produces is immensely disproportioned to the temporary
convenience it promotes. It compels submission
for the time being; but it stupefies the intellect,
and infuses malignity into the disposition,
whether tried on children, slaves, or animals. The
common practice of whipping a horse, to cure him
of being frightened by some particular object, usually
has the effect of giving him two causes of fear,
instead of one. I remember reading of a much
more judicious method, in Mrs. Hamilton's Essays
on Education, published in England about thirty
years ago. A horse of an excellent disposition
had been frightened by a drum, when he was a
colt, and nothing could overcome his excessive terror
of that instrument. The whippings he received,
when he reared and plunged at the sound,
rendered his associations with it so exceedingly
painful, that his whole nervous system was excited
to violent agitation, the instant he heard it approaching.
He was finally purchased by a gentleman,
who believed more in the efficacy of kindness,
than he did in coercion. He kept him without
food till he was hungry, and then spread oats
on a drum-head. As soon as he began to eat, the
groom began to drum. The frightened animal ran
away, and could not be lured back again by the
tempting display of provender. He was deprived
of food for a still longer time, and the experiment
was again tried with similar result. But the third
time, hunger proved stronger than fear, and he devoured
his oats with the hated noise sounding louder
and louder in his ears. After being thus rationally
convinced that a drum would do him no harm,
he ceased to be troublesome, and voluntarily walked
toward the sound which had become so pleasantly
associated in his memory.

If men would educate animals in a sensible and
patient manner, and treat them with habitual gentleness,
it would produce intelligence and docility
apparently miraculous, and realize on earth the
prophecies of the millenium.