Domesticated animals
by Nathaniel Southgate Shaler · English · Gutenberg #25568 · 422,915 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Domesticated animals
Their relation to man and to his advancement in civilization
Author: Nathaniel Southgate Shaler
Release date: May 23, 2008 [eBook #25568]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25568
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOMESTICATED ANIMALS ***
Produced by Julia Miller, Joseph Cooper and the Online
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[Illustration: AFRICAN ELEPHANT]
DOMESTICATED ANIMALS
THEIR RELATION TO MAN AND TO HIS
ADVANCEMENT IN CIVILIZATION
BY
NATHANIEL SOUTHGATE SHALER
DEAN OF THE LAWRENCE SCIENTIFIC SCHOOL OF
HARVARD UNIVERSITY
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1908
COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION, 1
THE DOG
Ancestry of the Domesticated Dogs.--Early Uses of the Animal:
Variations induced by Civilization.--Shepherd-dogs: their
Peculiarities; other Breeds.--Possible Intellectual
Advances.--Evils of Specialized Breeding.--Likeness of Emotions
of Dogs to those of Man: Comparison with other Domesticated
Animals.--Modes of Expression of Emotions in Dogs.--Future
Development of this Species.--Comparison of Dogs and Cats as
regards Intelligence and Position in Relation to Man, 11
THE HORSE
Value of the Strength of the Horse to Man.--Origin of the
Horse.--Peculiar Advantage of the Solid Hoof.--Domestication
of the Horse.--How begun.--Use as a Pack Animal.--For
War.--Peculiar Advantages of the Animal for Use of Men.--Mental
Peculiarities.--Variability of Body.--Spontaneous Variations
due to Climate.--Variations of Breeds.--Effect of the Invention
of Horseshoes.--Donkeys and Mules compared with Horse.--Especial
Value of these Animals.--Diminishing Value of Horses in Modern
Civilization.--Continued Need of their Service in War, 57
THE FLOCKS AND HERDS: BEASTS FOR BURDEN,
FOOD, AND RAIMENT
Effect of this Group of Animals on Man.--First Subjugations.--Basis
of Domesticability.--Horned Cattle.--Wool-bearing Animals.--Sheep
and Goats.--Camels: their Limitation.--Elephants: Ancient History;
Distribution; Intelligence; Use in the Arts; Need of True
Domestication.--Pigs: their Peculiar Economic Value; Modern
Varieties; Mental Qualities.--Relation of the Development of
Domesticable Animals to the Time of Man's Appearance on the Earth, 103
DOMESTICATED BIRDS
Domestication of Animals mainly accomplished by the Aryan Race;
Small Amount of Such Work by American Indians.--Barnyard Fowl:
Mental Qualities; Habits of Combat.--Peacocks: their Limited
Domestication.--Turkeys: their Origin; tending to revert to the
Savage State.--Water Fowl: Limited Number of Species domesticated;
Intellectual Qualities of this Group.--The Pigeon: Origin and
History of Group; Marvels of Breeding.--Song Birds.--Hawks and
Hawking.--Sympathetic Motive of Birds: their AEsthetic Sense;
their Capacity for Enjoyment, 152
USEFUL INSECTS
Relations of Men to Insect World.--But Few Species Useful to
Man.--Little Trace of Domestication.--Honey-bees: their Origin;
Reasons for no Selective Work; Habits of the Species.--Silkworms:
Singular Importance to Man.--Intelligence of Species.--Cochineal
Insect.--Spanish Flies.--Future of Man relative to Useful Insects, 190
THE RIGHTS OF ANIMALS
Recent Understanding as to the Rights of Animals; Nature of these
Rights; their Origin in Sympathy.--Early State of Sympathetic
Emotions.--Place of Statutes concerning Animal Rights.--Present
and Future of Animal Rights.--Question of Vivisection.--Rights of
Domesticated Animals to Proper Care; to Enjoyment.--Ends of the
Breeder's Art.--Moral Position of the Hunter.--Probable
Development of the Protecting Motive as applied to Animals, 204
THE PROBLEM OF DOMESTICATION
The Conditions of Domestication; Effects on Society; Share of the
Races of Men in the Work.--Evils of Non-Intercourse with
Domesticated Animals as in Cities; Remedies.--Scientific Position
of Domestication; Future of the Art.--List of Species which may
Advantageously be Domesticated.--Peculiar Value of the Birds and
Mammals.--Importance of Groups which tenant High Latitudes.--Plan
for Wilderness Reservations; Relation to National Parks.--Project
for International System of Reservations.--Nature of Organic
Provinces; Harm done to them by Civilized Men.--Way in which
Reservations would Serve to Maintain Types of the Life of
the Earth; how they may be Founded.--Summary and Conclusions, 218
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
AFRICAN ELEPHANT, _Frontispiece_
SHEEP-DOGS GUARDING A FLOCK AT NIGHT, 10
HOUNDS RUNNING A WILD BOAR, 53
ON ROTTEN ROW, HYDE PARK, LONDON, 63
CAVALRY HORSE, 71
A HURDLE JUMPER, 79
ENGLISH POLO PONIES, 89
WINNOWING GRAIN IN EGYPT, 111
THE HALT IN THE DESERT AT NIGHT--THE STORY TELLER, 121
CARRYING THE SUGAR CANE IN HARVEST--EGYPT, 125
FEEDING SILKWORMS WITH MULBERRY LEAVES IN JAPAN, 193
THE FARMER'S APIARY, 199
ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT
GREYHOUND AFTER "THE KILL," 13
ST. BERNARD, 15
SPANIEL RETRIEVING WILD DUCK, 17
BULL-DOG, 22
FOX-HOUND AND PUPS, 25
POINTER RETRIEVING A FALLEN BIRD, 26
POINTER AND SETTER, FLUSHING GAME, 27
DUTCH DOGS USED IN HARNESS, 30
KING CHARLES SPANIEL, 33
THE POUNCE OF A TERRIER, 35
POMERANIAN OR "SPITZ," 38
POODLES, 39
COLLIE, 41
A HUNTER, 60
HORSE OF A BULGARIAN MARAUDER, 67
MARE AND FOAL, 68
PLOUGH HORSES, FRANCE, 73
BELGIAN FISHERMAN'S HORSE, 76
HORSES FOR TOWING ON THE BEACH IN HOLLAND, 78
EXERCISING THE THOROUGHBREDS, 84
AN ARABIAN HORSE, 85
ARABIAN SPORTS, 86
SYRIAN HORSE, 92
IN THE CIRCUS, 96
DOMESTICATED BUFFALOES IN EGYPT, 104
CATTLE OF INDIA, 105
INDIAN BULLOCK AND WATER-CARRIER, 108
PLOUGHING IN SYRIA, 109
EGYPTIAN SHEEP, 114
BEDOUIN GOAT-HERD--PALESTINE, 116
THE GREAT CARAVAN ROAD--CENTRAL ASIA, 119
CAMELS FEEDING, 123
CAMELS ALONG THE SEA AT TWILIGHT, 127
AN INDIAN ELEPHANT, 134
THE ORIGINAL JUNGLE FOWL (_Gallus bankiva_) AND SOME OF HIS
DOMESTIC DESCENDANTS, 153
HOUDIN, COCHINS, LEGHORNS, AND GAME, 158
BANTAMS, BRAHMA, AND DORKINGS, 160
CONTRIBUTIONS FROM ASIA, AFRICA, AND AMERICA--PEACOCKS,
GUINEA-FOWL, AND TURKEY, 163
THE DOMESTICATED TURKEY, 165
THE LARGEST OF ALL POULTRY--THE OSTRICH, 168
AN EIDER COLONY, 170
TERNS AIDING A WOUNDED COMRADE, 171
SOME RECENT ADDITIONS TO THE POULTRY YARD, 173
SWANS, 174
THE ORIGINAL WILD ROCK DOVE (_Columba livia_) AND SOME OF ITS
DOMESTIC DESCENDANTS, 175
TURTLE DOVES, 177
THE GIANT CROWNED PIGEON OF INDIA, 178
THE ENGLISH PHEASANT, 181
THE FALCONER'S FAVORITE--PEREGRINE FALCON, 184
THE BANDIT'S BROOD, 186
DOMESTICATED ANIMALS
INTRODUCTION
One of the effects of the modern advance in natural science has been
greatly to increase the attention which is devoted to the influences
that the conditions of diverse peoples have had upon their development.
Man is no longer looked upon, as he was of old, as a being which had
been imposed upon the earth in a sudden and arbitrary manner, set to
rule the world into which he had been sent as a master. We now see him
as one of the myriad species which has won its way by powers of mind out
of darkness and the great struggle to the place of command. The way in
which this creature, weak in body and exceedingly dependent on his
surroundings, has in the modern geologic epoch come forth from the mass
of the lower animals, is by far the most impressive and as yet the most
unexplained phenomenon which the geologist has to consider. It is not
likely that the marvellous advancement can be accounted for by any
single cause; it is probably due, as are most of the great evolutions,
to the concurrence of many influences; but among these which make for
advance, we clearly have to reckon the animals and plants which man has
learned to associate with his work of the household and the fields.
Although certain species of insects, particularly the ants, have the
well-developed habit of subjugating certain creatures of their own
family, man is the only vertebrate that has ever adopted the plan of
domesticating a variety of animals and plants. The beginnings of this
custom were made in a very remote time, and for long ages the profit
which was thereby gained appears to have been but slight. Gradually,
however, races, owing to their masterful quality and to the
opportunities which were offered by the wild life about their dwelling
places, obtained flocks and herds. In the group of continents commonly
termed the old world, where there were several ancient primitive peoples
of innate ability, and where there were many species of larger mammals
which were well fitted for domestication, the advance in social
development went on rapidly. In the new world, though the primitive
races contained tribes of much ability, there was practically no chance
for the people to add to their strength by the subjugation of beasts of
burden, or to their food resources by the adoption of various animals
which could be used for the needs of food or raiment. The advance of men
when they have obtained valuable domesticated animals, and their failure
to win a high station where the surrounding nature denied such
opportunities, go far to prove the bearing of this accomplishment in the
development of peoples.
A little consideration makes it evident to us that the advance of
mankind above the original savage state is in several ways favored by
the possession of domesticated animals. In the first place, each
creature which is adopted into the household or the fields usually
brings as its tribute a substantial contribution to the resources which
tend to make the society commercially successful. When we consider the
enlargements of resources and the diversification of industries which
rest upon the adoption of any one of these animals--as, for instance,
the horse--we see in a way what the possession of domesticated animals
and plants really means, and are in a position to conceive, though at
best but dimly, what the scores of these captive species have done for
us. We recognize the fact that while, under almost any conditions, a
certain manner of advance above the most primitive savagery is possible
to a naturally able people, this on-going cannot lead any distance
unless the folk have other help than their own weak bodies can give
them. It is hardly too much to say that civilization has intimately
depended on the subjugation of a great range of useful species.
It would be interesting to trace, if we could, what share the several
domesticated animals have had in the development of the human races; but
this task is not to be done. We can, however, discern that the Arab
without the camel and the horse would not have found the place in
history which he has filled, and that our own race could not have
attained its place save for the aid which the horned cattle, sheep, and
a host of other helpers which we have pressed into service, have
afforded. These economic gains have to be judged in mass, they cannot be
reckoned in detail. When we have made the best account of them we can,
there remains another class of influences, the value of which, though
evidently great, is yet harder to reckon; these arise from the education
which has been attained through the care of these adopted creatures.
Among savages the great need is a training in forethoughtfulness; all
primitive peoples are like children, they live in the interests of the
day; the cares of the seasons to come, or even of the morrow, are not
for them. The possession of domesticated animals certainly did much to
break up this old brutal way of life; it led to a higher sense of
responsibility to the care of the household; it brought about systematic
agriculture; it developed the art of war; it laid the foundations of
wealth and commerce, and so set men well upon their upward way.
Moreover, the use of domesticated animals of the better sort enabled the
more vigorous and care-taking races to gain the strength which led to
their advancement in power to a point where they were able to displace
the lower and feebler tribes. In other words, the system of
domestication has provided a method by which those peoples who were
fitted to develop the qualities which make for civilization could
advance; it has provided the opportunity for selection.
Of all the influences which have been exercised on man by the care of
his flocks, herds, and droves, perhaps the most important is that which
has arisen from the broader development of his sympathies. The savage
may be defined as a man who cares only for his family and his tribe; the
civilized man as one whose kindly interest extends to mankind and beyond
to all sentient beings. In the development of this altruistic motive the
care of the dependent species has evidently been most effective. We note
that the peoples who have attained the first upward step in the
association with domesticated animals are in their quality, so far as
tested by literature and history, much above the mere savage. With the
care of the flocks we find associated poetry, the first notes of higher
religious motives, and a largeness of the sympathetic life which is
favored by the nature of the occupation. Where the nomadic habits of the
original shepherds pass into the more sedentary state of the soil
tiller, the element of personal care and the affection and the
consequent education of the sympathy were increased. Men had now to care
for half a dozen or more kinds of animals; they had to learn their ways,
in a manner to put themselves in their places and conceive their needs.
Thus the life of a farmer is a continual lesson in the art of sympathy;
with the result, certainly in part due to this cause, that there is no
class of people from whom the brutal instincts of the ancient savage
life which we all inherit have been so completely eradicated.
It is perhaps too much to attribute the advance of the agricultural
classes of our civilized peoples, in all that serves to remove them from
the brutality of their savage ancestors, altogether to the nature of
their work--to the very large element of kindly care for which it calls,
and which is the price of success in the occupation. Yet when we note
the immediate way in which the people bred in cities, under
circumstances of excitement are wont to behave like savages of the lower
kind, showing in their conduct a lack of all sympathetic education, and
contrast their behavior with that of their kinsmen from the fields--we
see essential differences in character which cannot well be explained
save by the diverse natures of the training which the men have received.
Thus in the French Revolution, the baser, more inhuman deeds were not
committed by the peasants, who had been the principal sufferers under
the regime which was overthrown, but by the people of the great towns
who had been less oppressed by the iniquities of the old system of
government.
If it be true--as my personal experiences and observations lead me
firmly to believe is the case--that man's contact with the domesticated
animals has been and is ever to be one of the most effective means
whereby his sympathetic, his civilized motives may be broadened and
affirmed, there is clearly reason for giving to this side of life a
larger share of attention than it has received. So far the presence of
these lower creatures in our society has generally been accepted as a
matter of course. Sentimentalists, after the fashion of Laurence Sterne,
have dwelt upon the imaginary woes of the creatures. Associations of
well-meaning people have endeavored to diminish the cruelty which people
of the towns, rarely those bred on the soil, often inflict upon them. It
seems, however, desirable that we should place this consideration upon a
plane more fitting the knowledge of our time. It should be made plain,
not only that the success of our civilization depends now as in the past
on the cooperation which mankind has had from the domesticated animals,
but also that the development of this relation is one of the most
interesting features in all history. On through the ages of the geologic
past comes this great procession of life, in the endless succession of
species whose numbers in the aggregate are to be reckoned by the scores,
if not by the hundreds of millions. Until this modern age, the throng
goes forward blindly, groping its way towards the higher planes of life.
At length certain of the more advanced forms attain to a measure of
intellectual elevation. Still, for all this advance, the life is not
organized so as to attain any large ends; no society arises from it.
Suddenly, in the last geological epoch, man, the descendant of a group
which like all others had led the narrow life of the preparatory ages,
appears upon the scene. At first, and in his lower human estate, his
position was not noticeably higher than that of his kindred, but there
was in him the seed of a great unlikeness, of very new things, in that
his desires had an element of the unlimited which was to grow apace, and
in time to make him greedy of on-going. As this innovating creature
sought for agents of power in the wilderness about him, he blindly laid
hands upon such of the fellow tenants of the wilds as might serve his
immediate needs. This species, both animals and plants, endowed with the
capacity for variation, the plasticity which is in general a
characteristic of all organic forms, were early led by their new master,
as of old they had been guided by the old organic laws. They changed
according to his choice, abandoning their ancient ways for the novel
paths of civilization. With this association of the higher forms of the
earth under the leadership of man, there began an entirely new and
unprecedented condition of the world's affairs. In place of the ancient
law of nature there came the control of our species which had been, in a
way, chosen to be the overlord of life.
At first, the number of species of animals and plants which man brought
under his control was very limited; it was indeed confined to those
which might readily be subjugated to meet immediate needs. Gradually,
however, the list has been extended until it included thousands of
forms, which, while they meet no need such as the savage recognizes, are
gratifying to the taste or the ambitions of civilized peoples. These
aesthetic devices, or those of necessity, are advancing so rapidly that
each generation sees hundreds of new animal and plant species added to
our living collections, so that our plant and animal gardens now contain
a large share of the more attractive forms which are to be found in the
various geographical realms. Our tilled fields yield perhaps a hundred
times as many varieties of plants as they did in the earliest historic
agriculture. The advance in the process of domestication is not so rapid
as regards the animal kingdom as it is with the realm of plants, and
this mainly for the reason that animals have a will of their own which
has to be bent or broken to that of man. Still it goes on apace. We of
to-day have at our command many times the number of sentient species
contributive to our pleasure or profit that had been made captive at the
beginning of our era. Naturally, in the early days of domestication, men
brought under their control the greater number of the animals which gave
promise of utility. As no new species of any economic importance have
been created within the last geologic period, the field for the
extension of economic domestication has of late been very limited. But
the realm of sympathetic appreciation, unlike the economic, knows no
definite bounds, and promises in time to bring all the more important
organic forms under the care of the sympathetic and masterful being who
has been chosen as the ruler of terrestrial life.
We thus see that the matter of domesticated animals is but a part of the
larger problem which includes all that relates to man's destined mastery
of the earth--a mastery which he is rapidly winning. It means that, in
time, a large part of the life of this sphere is to be committed to his
care, to survive or perish as he wills, to change at his bidding, to
give, as other subjugated kinds have done, whatever of profit or
pleasure they may contribute to his endless advancement. From this point
of view our domesticated creatures should be presented to our people,
with the purpose in mind of bringing them to see that the process of
domestication has a far-reaching aspect, a dignity, we may fairly say a
grandeur, that few human actions possess. If we can impress this view,
it will be certain to awaken men to a larger sense of their
responsibility for, and their duty by, the creatures which we have taken
from their olden natural state into the social order. It will, at the
same time, enlarge our conceptions of our own place in the order of this
world.
In the following pages little effort has been made to present those
facts concerning domesticated animals which would commonly be reckoned
as scientific. The several essays which, in larger part, were separately
printed in Scribner's Magazine, are intended for those persons who,
while they may not care to approach the matter in the manner of the
professional inquirer, are glad to have the results which naturalists
have attained, so far as they may serve to extend knowledge of things
which lie in the field of familiar experiences. To the text as it at
first appeared, numerous additions have been made, and the concluding
chapters, on the Rights of Animals, and on the Problem of Domestication,
are new. In them an effort is made to direct attention to the importance
of the problem of man's relation to the lower life which is about him,
and which in the future far more than in the past is to be helped or
hindered by his rule. Our life is made up of large problems; but there
seem few that are greater than this, which concerns our duty by the
creatures that share with us the blessings of existence, and over which
we have come to rule.
[Illustration: Sheep-Dogs Guarding a Flock at Night]
THE DOG
Ancestry of the Domesticated Dogs.--Early Uses of the Animal:
Variations induced by Civilization.--Shepherd-dogs: their
Peculiarities; other Breeds.--Possible Intellectual Advances.--Evils
of Specialized Breeding.--Likeness of Emotions of Dogs to those of
Man: Comparison with other Domesticated Animals.--Modes of
Expression of Emotions in Dogs.--Future Development of this
Species.--Comparison of Dogs and Cats as regards Intelligence and
Position in Relation to Man.
It is an interesting fact that the first creature which man won to
domesticity was made captive and friend for the sake of companionship
rather than for any grosser profit. The dog was, the world over, the
first living possession of man beyond the limits of his own kindred. He
has been so long separated from the primitive species whence he sprang
that we cannot trace with any certainty his kinship with the creatures
of the wilderness. Like his master he has become so artificialized that
it is hard to conjecture what his original state may have been.
Naturalists are much divided in opinion in all that relates to the
origin of our ancient and common domesticated animals; and this for the
reason that the longer a creature has been subjected to the
change-bringing conditions of our fields and households, the further it
has departed from the parent stock. This difficulty is naturally the
greatest in the case of the dogs, for the reason that they have been
longer and more completely under the control of man than any other of
the lower animals. Some students of the problem have inclined to the
opinion that the dog is a descendant of the wolf; the whelps of this
species, it is supposed, were captured by primitive men and brought
under domestication. Savages, like children, are much given to bringing
the young of wild animals to their homes; if the conditions are
favorable they will care for these captives, even if the charge upon
their resources is tolerably heavy. With most primitive people, however,
life is so vagarious and starvation so recurrent that they are not apt
to retain their pets long enough to establish domesticated forms. Thus,
among our American Indians, though they show fondness for wild creatures
as much as any other people, no species save the dog ever became
permanently associated with their tribe. It is, however, possible, that
in some sedentary group of savages the work of domesticating the
ancestors of the dog, even if they were wolf-like, was accomplished.
The difficulty of this view is that even with the high measure of care
which the conditions of civilization permit us to devote to the
effort, it has been found impossible to educate captive wolves to the
point where they show any affection for their masters, or are in the
least degree useful in the arts of the household or the occupations of
the chase. They are, in fact, indomitably fierce and utterly
self-regarding. It seems unreasonable to believe that any savage would
have found either pleasure or profit from an effort to tame any of the
known species of wolves. Moreover, the fact that dogs show little or
no tendency to revert to the form and habits of their brutal kindred,
or to interbreed with them, is clearly against the supposition that
there is any close relation between the creatures.
[Illustration: Greyhound after "the Kill"]
Yet other speculative inquirers have sought the origin of the dog
through the admixture of the blood of several different species, the
wolf and the jackal being, perhaps, the principal or the only components
of the hybrid stock. Here, too, the evidence of nature is against the
supposition. No one has ever succeeded in hybridizing the wolf and the
jackal, nor do our dogs show any more tendency to revert to the jackal
than to the wolf. They meet their tropical relative with as much
animosity as is proper, or at least customary, in the intercourse of
allied yet distinct species. In fact, all the indices by which we are
able to carry back the history of other domesticated animals to their
primitive or even extinct ancestry, fail in the case of the dog. When
the stock is allowed to go as nearly wild as they can be induced to
become, we do not find that they thereby approach to any known wild
form. It therefore seems reasonable to betake ourselves to another
basis for the natural history of the dog, which has not yet been made a
matter of much inquiry, but which promises to afford us more substantial
truth than the conjectures which we have just considered.
We should, in the first place, note the fact that the ancestors of our
more important domesticated animals, those which have been longest in
subjugation, have commonly disappeared from the wild state--the species,
except for the cultivated forms, having gone into the irrecoverable
past. This is the case with the wild kindred of our bulls, horses,
sheep, and camels, there probably being none of the original wild
species of these groups now living, except those which have been more
or less completely subjugated by man, and then have returned to the
wilderness. The fact is, that with any large mammal the domestication
of the species tends to bring about the destruction of the remaining
wild forms. If we go back in fancy to the time when the dog was taken
in from the wilderness, we readily perceive how certainly the
subjugated individuals would have mingled with their wild kindred, so
that either the wild would have become tame or _vice versa_. The same
incompatibility which exists between slavery and freedom in our own
species in any given territory may be said to hold in the case of
captive animals. It is particularly on this account that I am disposed
to think that our races of dogs have been derived from one or more
original species of truly canine ancestors, the wild forms of which
have long since disappeared from the earth.
[Illustration: St. Bernard]
Although there are no species of wild dogs now in existence to which we
can refer the origin of our household friends, there are several known
to us only in their fossil state, from which they may possibly--indeed,
we may say probably--have been derived. These creatures are, of course,
represented only by their skeletons, and even these remains have only
been found in an imperfect state of preservation. It is evident,
however, that these extinct species, or at least certain of them, lived
down to the time when man had come upon the earth, and was beginning to
speculate on his surroundings for such company and help as he might win
therefrom. It may interest the reader to know that a species of American
dog existed in the Southern Appalachians down to a very recent
time--recent, at least, in a geological sense. The remains of one of
these animals were found by the writer in a cave in East Tennessee, near
Cumberland Gap. From the fragments of the skeleton, Mr. J. A. Allen has
described the species. The animal appears to have been of moderate
size, and, from the position of the bones, it seems tolerably certain
that it lived but a few centuries ago.
It is clearly a reasonable supposition that some of these primitive
canine species may have been far more domesticable than the existing
kindred of the dog--the wolves, foxes, jackals, or hyenas--differing
from their fiercer kindred much as the zebras do from the wild asses,
the one form being utterly undomesticable, and the other lending its
back almost willingly to the burdens which man chooses to impose. It
seems likely that this primitive species--perhaps more than one--whence
the dog sprang was not a very vigorous or widespread form; else, as
before remarked, a savage would have found it impossible to keep his
half-tamed creatures from rejoining their wild kinsmen. Thus, if a man
should in this day succeed in taming wolves, in a region where they were
plenty, to the point where they began to abide his presence, or even to
have some slight affection for him, the call of nature would be likely
to lead them back to reunion with their kind.
It seems pretty certain that the first steps in the domestication of the
dog must be attributed not to any distinct purpose of acquiring a useful
companion, but to that vague instinct which leads children to make
captives of any wild animals with which they come in contact. The fancy
for pets is not only common to all mankind, civilized and savage alike,
but is clearly exhibited in many of the mammals below the level of man.
Almost every one has observed cases where dogs, cats, and horses have
become attached to some creature of an alien species with which they
have been by chance thrown in contact. The higher the grade of the
intelligence, the more sympathetic with other life the animal is likely
to become. Thus the elephants, whose natural endowments in the way of
intelligence are perhaps superior to those of any other wild creatures,
are, when brought into captivity, curiously prone to form attachments to
human beings. Savages appear to make but little use of their dogs in
hunting. In fact, those peculiar combinations of instinct and training
which we find in our hounds, pointers, setters, and other dogs which
have been bred to serve the purposes of sportsmen, have been acquired
but slowly, and are of no value except where the search for game is
carried on under what we may term civilized conditions. The dog of the
savage is in all countries much like his master--a creature with few
arts and unaccustomed to subdue his rude native impulses.
[Illustration: Spaniel Retrieving Wild Duck]
It seems most likely that for ages the principal use of the dog which
dwelt about the camps of the primitive people was found in the reserve
food supply which they afforded their thriftless masters. When the
hunting was successful the poor brutes had a chance to wax fat, and
even in times of scarcity they managed to pick up enough food to keep
them alive. When their masters were brought to a state of famine they
were doubtless accustomed, as are many savages at the present time, to
eat a portion of their pack. In the early conditions of humanity there
was no other beast which could be made to serve so well this simple
need in the way of provender. The dog is, in fact, the only animal
ever domesticated which can be trusted through his own affections
alone to abide with his master in the endless changes of camp and the
rapid movements of flight and chase which characterized men before
their housed state began. In a certain curious way the use of dogs for
food has served greatly to advance the development of these captives.
When the savage was driven to feed upon his dogs he was naturally more
willing to sacrifice the least intelligent and affectionate of them,
delaying, to the point of extremity, the time when he would kill those
which had endeared themselves to him. In this way for ages a careful
though unintended process of selection was applied to these creatures,
and to it we may fairly attribute, as many considerate naturalists
have done, a large part of the intellectual--indeed, we may say
moral--elevation to which they have attained.
When the place of the dog as the first and most intimate companion of
man was affirmed in the rude way above described--when the savagery to
which he was at first made free gradually enlarged to civilization, a
number of special uses were found for the peculiar capacities of the
creature. These varied in the different parts of the world, according
to the peculiarities in the conditions of the masters. In high
latitudes, where the ground is snow-covered during the winter season,
dogs were used, as they are to this day, in dragging sleds. They were,
indeed, perhaps the first animals which were harnessed to vehicles. When
they were brought to serve this definite end, we may well believe that
the stronger and more enduring individuals were spared in times of
dearth for the reason that they were almost indispensable to their
masters, and even the little forethought which we find among primitive
peoples would lead to their preservation. Here again, doubtless, came in
the process of unintended selection which has made the Esquimau sled-dog
one of the most remarkable varieties of his kind.
Perhaps the most interesting of the early variations induced among
dogs is that which has arisen from the pastoral habit. We do not know
when this custom of keeping sheep in large flocks was first
instituted, but it is evidently of exceeding antiquity, probably far
older than the pyramids of Egypt. The custom could hardly have been
instituted without help of the shepherd's mate, the sheep-dog.
Although the creatures of this breed are probably in form very near to
the original wild species whence our canines came, the variety has as
regards its instincts been, by a process of education and selection,
led very far away from the original stock.
The wild forefathers of this species were clearly natural born
sheep-slayers, and the motive abides to this day in all the breeds which
have the strength to assail our unresisting flocks. The spirit is so
ingrained that even the most civilized of our house-dogs, which may for
generations never have tasted blood and which show no disposition to
attack the other animals of the barn-yard, cannot be trusted alone with
sheep. When two or more of them are together the old instincts of the
wild pack return, and they will slay with insensate brutality until they
are fairly exhausted with their fury. Their behavior on such occasions
reminds one of the actions of their masters when possessed with the
blind rage of a mob. Yet in the shepherd-dog we find this ancestral
motive, once a large part of the life of the creature, so overcome by
education and selection that they will not only care for a flock with
all the devotion which self-interest can lead the master to give to the
task, but they will cheerfully undergo almost any measure of privation
in order to protect their charges from harm. The annals of shepherd
districts, especially those where winter snows fall deeply, as in
Scotland, abound in anecdotes of a well-attested nature which show how
profoundly the dogs which tend the flocks are imbued with the love of
the animals committed to their care. This affection is more curious for
the reason that it is never in any measure returned by the sheep. To
them the custodian is ever a dreaded overseer. He seems to bring to them
nothing but the memories of danger derived from the experience which
their species acquired in far-away times.
It is very interesting to note the behavior of a young shepherd-dog when
he is first brought in contact with a flock. It is easy to see that he
has an amazingly keen interest in the sheep. He regards them with an
attention which he gives to no other living things, except perhaps his
master. Out of a litter of well-bred pups belonging to this variety, the
greater part will at once assume a curatorial attitude toward a flock.
They will show a disposition to keep them together, and will seize on
an individual only in case he undertakes to break away. They will
generally use no more force than is necessary to reduce the recalcitrant
to order. They arrest him by catching hold of the leg or fleece, and
rarely seize hold of the throat, which other dogs, led by their
inherited instincts, are apt at once to assail. Very rarely does a
shepherd-dog of good ancestry, even at the outset of his career, attack
a sheep in a way which shows that the ancient proclivities have been
revived in his spirit. Even then a little remonstrance, or at most a
slight castigation, is pretty sure to turn him from his evil ways. If we
could measure in some visible manner the psychic peculiarities of
animals, we would be led to regard this great change in the instincts of
the dog, which has been brought about by his use in herding, as perhaps
the most momentous transformation which man has ever accomplished in any
creature, including himself; for none of our own inherited savage traits
are so completely sublated at the time of our birth as is this old and
sometime dominant slaying motive in the shepherd-dog.
With the advancing differentiation of human occupations and amusements,
our breeds of dogs have, by more or less deliberate selection, been
developed until by form and instincts they fit a great variety of
purposes. Some of these pertain to industrial work, but the greater
portion are related to the sports or fancies of men. The turnspit was
bred for its short legs and small, compact body, and was serviceable in
those treadmills of the hearth which have long since passed out of use,
but which were for centuries features in our kitchens.
[Illustration: Bull-Dog]
The massive type of bull-dogs, characterized by heavy frames and an
indomitable will, appears to have been brought about by a process of
selection having for its unconscious end the development of a breed
which should render the herdsman of horned cattle something like the
assistance which the shepherd-dog gave to those who had charge of
flocks. In the more primitive state of our bulls and cows the
creatures were much wilder than at present, and were generally kept,
not in enclosed pastures, but on unfenced ranges. In these conditions
the care taken needed the help which the ancestors of our modern
bull-dog afforded. The tasks which the animal was called on to perform
were of a ruder nature than those which were allotted to the
shepherd-dog. Their business was to conquer the unruly beast. They
were taught to seize the muzzle, and by the pain they thus inflicted
they could subdue even the fiercer small bulls of the ancient type of
form. From this original use the cattle-dogs were turned to the brutal
sport of bull-baiting, a rude diversion which was indulged in by our
ancestors for centuries, and has only disappeared in our less cruel
modern days. Bred for the bull-ring, these dogs acquired the
formidable strength and ferocity under excitement which made their
name a terror and their qualities a satirical embodiment of the ruder
traits which characterized the British folk.
The training which instituted the breed of bull-dogs was evidently
much less continuous and effective than that which developed the
shepherding variety. The use for the creature in the care of herds has
passed away. In the older parts of the world cattle are kept only in
enclosures; and where, as on our frontier, they still range over
unbounded fields, they are guarded by horsemen who do not need the
assistance of dogs to control the movements of the herds. No longer
serviceable either in economies or sports, the breed of true bull-dogs
is rapidly disappearing. As we may often observe in other fields of
development, the peculiarities of this breed are now under the control
of fancy, and the blood is being led far away from its old
characteristics. The bull-terrier and other varieties, which retain
something of the form and of the solemn demeanor which characterized
their ancestors, but which are too small to assail horned cattle, mark
the vanishing stages of this great stock, which will soon be known
only in memory. The history of this peculiar herd-dog shows us how
marvellously pliant the body and mind of this species has become under
the conditions of civilization. The rude process of unconscious
selection, acting without steadfastness of purpose or rationally
developed skill, serves to sway the qualities of the animal this way
or that to meet the ever-changing requirements of use or fancy. A
similar selection in the case of our horned cattle has within a few
centuries converted the cows into mild-mannered and sedentary
milk-making machines, and has deprived the bulls of the greater part
of their ancient savage humor. Owing to this change in the quality of
their associates in captivity the dogs have also been led into great
variations. The same type of interaction may be traced again and again
in the isolated part of the world enclosed within our fences, as well
as in the free realm of the wildernesses. All the individuals in the
great host of life affect each other as do the soldiers of a
well-organized army in the movements of a battle.
The shepherd-dog, the turnspit, and the bull-dog are the three
remarkable variations of the canine blood which were brought about by
a process of training and selection unconsciously directed to the
institution of breeds suited to special economic ends. The other
varieties of dogs have been shaped more distinctly for purposes of
amusement or for the indulgence of mere fancy. The several varieties
of hounds, harriers, beagles, pointers, setters, terriers, etc., have
been designed to meet a dozen or more variations in the conditions of
the chase. The marvellously complete way in which special
peculiarities have been developed in mind and body makes this field of
domestic culture the most fascinating subject of inquiry to the
naturalist. The ordinary fox-hound has had his inheritances determined
so as to fit him for pursuing a small animal which can rarely be kept
in view during its flight, and which can only be followed by the odor
it leaves in its trail, so these creatures run almost altogether under
guidance of their sense of smell. The stag-hound, on the other hand,
pursues a relatively large animal which cannot well be followed by the
nose, at least with any speed; they therefore trust almost altogether
to vision in their chase. The packs which hunt otters have developed
the swimming habit and an array of instincts which fit them
especially for this peculiar sport. If space allowed we could note at
least a dozen divisions of the group of hounds or chasing dogs, each
of which has developed a peculiar assemblage of qualities, more or
less precisely adapted to some particular game.
[Illustration: Fox-Hound and Pups]
Perhaps the most special adaption which man has brought about in his
domesticated animals is found in our pointers and setters. In these
groups the dogs have been taught, in somewhat diverse ways, to
indicate the presence of birds to the gunner. Although the modes of
action of these two breeds are closely related, they are sufficiently
distinct to meet certain differences of circumstances. The
peculiarities of their actions, it should be noted, are altogether
related to the qualities of our fowling-pieces. These have been in
use, at least in the form where shot took the place of the single
ball, for less than two centuries, and the peculiar training of our
pointers and setters has been brought about in even less time. It
seems likely, indeed, that it is the result of about a hundred and
fifty years of teaching, combined with the selection which so
effectively works upon all our domesticated creatures. It thus appears
that this peculiar impress upon the habits of the hunting-dog is the
result of somewhere near thirty generations of culture.
[Illustration: Pointer Retrieving a Fallen Bird]
Although, as has been often suggested, the pointing or setting habit
probably rests upon an original custom of pausing for a moment before
leaping upon their prey, which was possibly characteristic of the wild
dog, it seems to me unlikely that this is the case, for we do not find
this habit of creeping on the prey among our more primitive forms of
dogs nor the wild allied species as a marked feature. All the canine
animals trust rather to furious chase than to the cautious form of
assault by stealthy approach and a final spring upon their prey, as is
the habit with the cat tribe. Granting this somewhat doubtful claim that
the induced habits of these dogs which have been specially adapted to
the fowling-piece rest upon an original and native instinct, the amount
of specialization which has been attained in about thirty generations of
care remains a very surprising feature, and affords one of the most
instructive lessons as to the possibilities of animal culture.
[Illustration: Pointer and Setter, Flushing Game]
It is an interesting fact that the variation of a spontaneous sort,
which is now taking place in our pointers and setters, is
considerable. It is, perhaps, more distinctly indicated here than in
any other of the breeds which are characterized by peculiar
qualities of mind. All those familiar with the behavior of these
strains of dogs have observed the high measure of individuality
which characterizes them. I have recently been informed by a friend,
who is a hunter and a very observing naturalist, of one of these
variations in the pointer's instinct, which may, by careful
selection, possibly lead to a very useful change in the habits of
the animal. Hunting the Virginia partridge in the tall grass on the
sea-coast of Georgia, his dog found by experience that his master
could not discern him when he was pointing birds, and that a yelp of
impatience would put up the covey before the gun was ready for them.
The sagacious dog, therefore, adopted the habit of backing away from
the point where he first fixed himself, so that he, by barking,
denoted the presence of the birds without giving them alarm.
Although, in this first instance, the action is purely rational, and
is indeed good evidence of singular discernment and contriving
skill, it seems likely that by careful breeding it may be brought
into the realm of pure instinct or inherited habit.
The great variation in habits which is taking place in those varieties
of dogs which are immediately under the master's eye during all the
process of the chase, is easily explained by the fact that these
creatures are in a position to be immediately and constantly
influenced during their most active, and therefore teachable state of
mind, by the will of man. A pack of fox-hounds is, to a great extent,
out of hand while engaged in the pursuit of their prey; but a pointer
or setter, even when under extreme excitement, is almost completely
mastered by the superior will. When we observe the extent to which
human intelligence is affecting the qualities of our hunting-dogs, it
is not surprising to note that, in almost every district where there
are peculiar kinds of game, varieties of the dog are developing which
are especially adapted to its pursuit. Thus, in the parts of North
America where the raccoon abounds, a variety of hunting-dog is in
process of development which has a singular assemblage of qualities
which fit it for this peculiar form of the chase. Although as yet
"coon-dogs" have not been cultivated for a sufficient time to acquire
distinct physical characteristics, their habits exhibit a larger range
of specialization than those of any other breed of sporting dogs.
In those parts of the Americas where peccaries are hunted, the dogs
used in their pursuit have learned to beware of assaulting the pack
which they have brought to bay, and instead of indulging in the
instinct which leads them into that way of danger and of certain
death, they circle round the assemblage, compelling them to show front
on every side and so to remain stationary until the hunters come up.
Perhaps a score of similar specializations in the modes of action of
our dogs which are employed in the chase could be recited; but as they
all lead us to one conclusion--which is to the effect that these
creatures are, as far as their mental powers are concerned, like clay
in the hands of the potter--we may pass them by for some
considerations which appear to have escaped the attention of writers
who have discussed the problems of canine intelligence.
The singular elasticity as regards both mental and physical qualities
which the dog exhibits, may well be compared with the other conditions
which we find in certain of our domesticated animals, as, for instance,
in the horse, where the mind shows but slight changes, and where the
body has proved far less plastic than among dogs. The readiness with
which the proportions of the dog may, by the breeder's art, be made to
vary, is probably due to the fact that the group to which this creature
belongs is one of relatively modern institution. It has the plasticity
which we note as a characteristic of many other newly-established forms.
The flexibility of mind is a concomitant of the carnivorous habit where
creatures obtain their prey by the chase. Such an occupation tends to
develop agile minds as well as bodies, and where exercised as it
doubtless was by the ancestry of the dog, in the manner of pack hunting,
where many individuals share in the chase, it is well calculated to
insure a certain free and outgoing quality of the mind.
[Illustration: Dutch Dogs used in Harness]
So long as our dogs were employed in the labor or the organized
recreations of man, the tendency of the association with the superior
being was in a high measure educative. They were constantly submitted
to a more or less critical but always effective selection which
tended ever to develop a higher grade of intelligence. With the
advance in the organization of society the dog is losing something of
his utility, even in the way of sport. He is fast becoming a mere
idle favorite, prized for unimportant peculiarities of form. The
effort in the main is not now to make creatures which can help in the
employments of man, but to breed for show alone, demanding no more
intelligence than is necessary to make the animal a well-behaved
denizen of a house. The result is the institution of a wonderful
variety in the size, shape, and special peculiarities of different
breeds with what appears to be a concomitant loss in their
intelligence. We often hear it remarked by those who are familiar
with dogs that the ordinary mongrels are more intelligent and more
susceptible of high training than the carefully inbred varieties,
which are more highly prized because they conform to some thoroughly
artificial standard of form or coloring. This is what we should
expect from all we know concerning the breeding. Where for
generations the dog-fancier has selected for reproduction with
reference to the trifling and often injurious features of shape he
seeks to attain, he naturally and almost necessarily neglects to
choose the creatures in regard to their mental peculiarities. The
result is that the breed tends to fall back in these regards to below
the level of the ordinary cur, who makes his place in the affections
of his owner because he has attractive or useful qualities of mind.
It appears to me, in a word, that our treatment of this noble animal,
where he is bred for ornament, is in effect degrading.
Although the formation of our fancy breeds does not serve to advance the
development of those intellectual features which are the most
interesting part of our dogs, the experiments have served to show the
amazing physical plasticity of this species under the conditions of long
domestication. The range in size between a tiny spaniel, such as those
which are bred in Chihuahua, in northern Mexico, and the great Danes or
mastiffs of northern Europe, is, perhaps, the greatest which has ever
been attained in any mammal. In some cases the larger individuals
belonging to the mastiff breed probably weigh nearly thirty times as
much as their smaller kinsmen. Great as are these variations, they are
only in form and bulk. They involve none of those curious changes in the
number of bones of the skeleton which we may trace among the
domesticated pigeons. We therefore turn from these results of breeders'
fancy to consider certain of the mental qualities of dogs which have not
come in our way in our review of the history of its relations to man.
First of all, we may note the fact that the friendly relations which
dogs have become accustomed to form with men vary exceedingly in their
range and activity. Perhaps in no other regard does the dog exhibit
such distinctly human characteristics as in the way in which he meets
the individuals of the mastering species. The gamut of their social
relations with men is almost exactly parallel with our own. With from
one to a dozen persons a dog may maintain an attitude of almost equally
complete sympathy and mutual understanding. He may be on terms of
acquaintanceship in varied degrees of familiarity with a few score
others with whom he comes in frequent contact. Toward the rest of
mankind he maintains a position of more or less complete distrust,
which with experience may attain the indifference which men commonly
show toward perfect strangers. If we observe a dog going along a
much-frequented street, we may note that his relations to the people
are substantially those which the folk have to each other. He shows as
they do a certain consideration for the individuals he encounters,
gives them their due place, and yet holds to his own. It is
particularly noticeable that he avoids all contact with the other
passers--in fact a dog has to be much beside himself with rage or fear,
or insane from disease, before he will break those bounds of
personality which civilization has set up to guide the conduct of life.
[Illustration: King Charles Spaniel]
The social culture of dogs appears to have gone to the point where
they recognize the meaning of an introduction--at least as far as the
sympathetic relations of that understanding are concerned. Almost any
well-bred dog will submit to be presented by his master, or even by
persons whom he knows but is not accustomed to obey, to a stranger to
whom he has already exhibited some dislike. During the introduction
he will submit to those formal exchanges of courtesy which he is
accustomed to recognize as the indices of friendship. The impression
of this understanding seems to be so permanent that on subsequent
meetings the dog, though he may maintain his original dislike of the
man who has been forced upon his acquaintance, will continue to treat
him with a certain consideration, though it is often easy to see that
it is a difficult matter for him to conform to the requirements of
society. When we compare the conduct of dogs in these regards with
the behavior of other animals, even highly domesticated forms, we
perceive how marvellously successful has been man's unconscious
effort to mould this creature on his own nature.
Another extremely human characteristic of our canine friends is shown
in their susceptibility to ridicule. Faint traces of this quality are
to be found in monkeys and perhaps even in the more intelligent horses,
but nowhere else save in man, and hardly there, except in the more
sensitive natures, do we find contempt, expressed in laughter of the
kind which conveys that emotion, so keenly and painfully appreciated.
With those dogs which are endowed with a large human quality, such as
our various breeds of hounds, it is possible by laughing in their faces
not only to quell their rage, but to drive them to a distance. They
seem in a way to be put to shame and at the same time hopelessly
puzzled as to the nature of their predicament. In this connection we
may note the very human feature that after you have cowed a dog by
insistent laughter you can never hope to make friends with him. A case
of this kind is fresh in my experience. A year or two ago I was
imprudent enough to laugh at a very intelligent dog in my neighborhood,
he having unreasonably assailed me at my house-door, where he had been
left for a long time to wait while his owner was within and had thereby
been brought into an unhappy state of mind. Sympathizing with his
situation, I preferred to laugh him out of his humor rather than to
beat him with my stick. I regret I did not take the other alternative,
for I made the poor brute my implacable enemy by my pretence of
contempt for him. I am inclined to think that if I had beaten him the
matter could have been arranged afterward in a friendly way.
[Illustration: The Pounce of a Terrier]
Another very remarkable and I believe hitherto unnoticed likeness
between the mind of dogs and that of man is found in the fact that
these dumb beasts, unlike all other inferior animals, except, perhaps,
some of the more intelligent species of monkeys, will learn lessons
from isolated experiences. In this regard they are indeed quite as apt
as the lower kinds of men. Thus a dog who has had an unsavory or
painful experience with a skunk or a porcupine is apt to keep away
from these creatures for a long time thereafter. Where, as is not
infrequently the case, a cur takes to eating eggs, a single dose of
tartar emetic concealed in an egg which is placed where he can readily
find it, is apt to effect an immediate and complete reform. This ready
learning from experience is almost the gist of our human quality--at
least on the intellectual side of it.
Perhaps the greatest success to which man has attained in his education
of the dog is to be found in the measure in which he has overcome the
fierce rage which clearly characterized the ancestors of this creature
when they first felt the mastering hand. The reader cannot understand
the intensity of the rage motive in the carnivora unless he has studied
some of these brutes in their wild state, where from the time in the
remote ages when they first began to take on the qualities of their
species they have survived and won success by the fury of their assault.
In almost all our breeds of dogs this primal ferocity has been overlaid
by the various motives of rationality, sympathy, and conventional
demeanor, until one may live half a lifetime with well-bred dogs without
a chance to see the demon which we have buried in their breasts, as we
have in our own, beneath a host of civilizing influences. It is rare
indeed in our day that a dog, unless insane, will bite a human being.
The most of their assaults are pure bluster, mere pretence of fury, as
is shown by the fact that if, carried away by their pretence, they are
led to use their teeth, it is usually a mere sham assault, having no
semblance of the effectiveness of true combat.
Something of the pristine fury of the primitive dogs may still be noted
in a certain brutal variety of watch-dogs which are still to be found in
parts of continental Europe. The best types of this breed which I have
ever seen are to be found among the dogs which are kept to guard the
quarries of Solenhofen, in Bavaria, whence come all the fine
lithographic stones which are so extensively used in printing. These
quarries are scattered over several square miles of untilled country,
and the separate pits are to be numbered by the score. As much valuable
stone is necessarily left over night in the quarries, their care is
confined to packs of watch-dogs which are turned loose at night and
appear as if by instinct to spend the hours of darkness in prowling over
the territory. Such is their size and ferocity that it takes a sturdy
beggar to face them. I remember inadvertently disturbing one of these
brutes from sleep, in the strong cage where he was confined, and I have
never beheld such a picture of blind fury as he exhibited. I had not
come within twenty feet of him, and was merely moving past his place of
confinement; yet he sprang to the grating and strove with his teeth to
break his way through the bars. I thought the animal must be mad, but
his keeper assured me that such was his ordinary state of mind and that
the humor was common to all the breed; even the masters dwelt in fear of
them. Ordinarily the only exhibitions of the innate ferocity of our dogs
are to be seen in their combats with each other, when for a time the
creatures return to their primitive state of mind. Even these occasional
exhibitions of fury are not found among all breeds of dogs, and among
many individuals even of the combative strains of blood the motive of
battle appears to have quite passed away.
[Illustration: Pomeranian or "Spitz"]
In antithesis to the old Ishmaelitic humor of our primitive dogs, man
has developed a singular, sympathetic, and kindly motive in these
creatures. From the point of view of the dog's education we must not
set too much store by his affection for his master. This kind of
devotion of one being to another is displayed elsewhere in the animal
kingdom, though it is more common among birds than among mammals. We
find traces of it in the greater part of our domesticated creatures or
in those which we have individually adopted from the wilderness. It is a
part of the great sympathetic motive, which, originating far down in the
series of animals, increases as they gain in the scale of being, until
it reaches the highest level it has yet attained in spiritually minded
men. The eminent peculiarity in the case of a dog is that the very
centre of his life is formed of the affections, which are evidently the
same as those which rule the days of the most cultivated men. To him
these elements of friendliness are absolutely necessary to a comfortable
existence. If by chance he becomes separated from his master and the
other people with whom he is familiar, his bereavement is intense; but
in most cases, at the end of a day or two, he is compelled to form new
bonds, and he sets about the task in an exceedingly human way. I dwell
in a town where dogs abound and where the frequent coming and going of
the people puts many of the creatures astray. Perhaps as often as once a
week, almost always late in the evening, one of these unhappy lost ones
seeks to make friends with me. His advances toward this end always begin
by his dogging my footsteps at a little distance. If I do not repulse
him he will come nearer until he has made sure of my attention. A
friendly word will bring him to my hand; but his behavior is never
effusive, as it would be if he had found his rightful owner, but mildly
propitiative and with a touch of sadness. There is, it seems to me, no
other feature in the life of the dog which tells so much as to his moral
nature as his conduct under these unhappy circumstances.
[Illustration: Poodles]
In the long catalogue of human qualities which characterize our
thoroughly domesticated dogs, we must not fail to take account of
their sense of property. In this the creature differs from all other
of our domesticated animals. It is a common characteristic of mammals,
both in their wild and tame state, that they feel a motive of
ownership in the food which they have captured or in the den which
they have made their lair; but beyond these narrow personal limits we
see no evidence of any sense of ownership in land or effects. We
readily observe, however, that our household dogs not only know the
chattels of their master and distinguish them from those of other
people, but they also learn to recognize the bounds of their house-lot
or even of a considerable farm. When a dog, even of a militant
quality, enters on territory which he does not feel to belong to him,
he is at once a very different creature as compared to his condition
when he is on his own land. He treads warily and will accept without
dispute an order to take himself off. A perception of this sort
indicates an extraordinary amount of sympathy and discernment. It
requires us to assume that the creature has a good sense of topography
and that he observes closely the various acts, none of them perhaps
very indicative, which go to show the limits of his master's claims.
Although the mental qualities of our highly domesticated dogs are
singularly like those of their masters, the likeness going to the
point that the household pet is apt to have acquired something of the
general character of the people with whom he dwells, there are many
suggestive differences arising from failures of development which are
in the highest measure interesting to those who study the species. We
note, in the first place, that although for ages in contact with the
constructive work which occupies his masters, the dog shows no
tendency whatever to essay any undertakings of this nature. He is
quite alive to considerations of personal comfort and is particularly
fond of a warm bed; yet, except for a few unverified stories, we may
say that there is no evidence whatever to show that they ever try to
improve their conditions by deliberately providing themselves with warm
bedding. In no well-attested case has a dog shown any sense as to the
nature of any mechanical contrivance. They will learn which way a door
opens, and rarely if ever do they undiscerningly close it when it is
slightly ajar and they wish to pass through the opening; but I have
never been able to observe or obtain evidence to show that they would
without teaching pull down a latch in the way in which a cat readily
learns to do. Much as dogs have had to do with guns, they display no
kind of interest in the arms except so far as they are tokens of sport
to come. They connect the explosion with the capture of game, and will
search for it in the direction toward which the barrel was pointed. I
have not, however, been able to find that they know, as they might
readily do, and as a crow would surely do, when the weapon was loaded
and when empty. They show no interest in it, such as monkeys readily
display toward any mechanical contrivance to which their attention has
been directed. All these negative features indicate that the mechanical
side of the canine mind is entirely undeveloped.
[Illustration: Collie]
Although there is some evidence that the sense of number attains a
measure of development in dogs, the ability to form mathematical
conceptions of any kind appears to be very weak in this species. The
fact that shepherd-dogs, in a way, keep an account of considerable
flocks so that they will know when one is gone astray, can readily be
explained on the supposition that they know their charges individually
and not in sum. The absence of arithmetical capacity is, however, less
important than the lack of mechanical sense, for the reason that such
incapacity is also common in the lowest races of men. Although dogs, as
before noted, quickly and clearly acquire a notion of property rights in
all which pertains to their owner's holdings, they appear never to
extend their sense of their own personal possessions beyond the original
limit to which they had attained when the species was domesticated. The
creature feels a sense of personal property in his food and in his
sleeping-place, but appears not to extend his conception of individual
rights beyond these primitively established limits.
All our well-bred household dogs quickly learn certain bodily habits
which are necessary to make them acceptable members of a household.
These habits are not well affirmed by inherited instinct, but the ease
with which the instruction is acquired shows that they have become prone
to submit to such regulations. Culture on this line rests upon a primal
instinct, originating we know not how, which leads a number of wild
animals to conceal their excrement. On the other hand, these creatures
exhibit no sense of modesty, though that, in a more or less complete
measure, is characteristic of all human tribes whatsoever.
As regards the memory, dogs appear to have a considerably greater
measure of capacity than is observable in any other group of
domesticated animals. There is no question that they can recall their
associations with people from whom they have been separated for a year
or more. Some trustworthy anecdotes appear to establish the fact that
the recollections may endure for two or three years. I have observed
an instance in which the memory seems perfectly clear after an
interval of eighteen months, and this concerned a person who had been
with the dog for a period of not more than four days. It is
interesting to note the behavior of a dog when he has failed to
recognize a person whom he has known well, but from whom he has been
long separated. I have a shepherd-dog that has known me well, but the
friendship is often interrupted by partings of some months' duration.
When, after one of these absences, I appear to him in the distance, he
comes furiously towards me, quite possessed by his enmity. At a certain
point in his charge a doubt begins to beset him; he moderates his pace;
his roaring bark passes into a whine; and as the full measure of his
blunder is borne in upon him by my voice, he becomes the picture of
shame. In his perplexity, he always finds relief in endeavoring with
his paw to scrape a supposititious fly from the side of his nose. He
then deals with what I suppose to be an equally imaginary flea; after
he has thus gained a few seconds for readjustment, he welcomes me
joyously. All this is so thoroughly human-like, that even the
naturalist, the professional doubter, is forced to believe that the
dog's mind works substantially as his own, and that the feelings
connected with the action are essentially the same.
While in the case of the elephant and the pig, and in a less measure
in several other of the lower animals, we have indices of as high or
even higher intelligence than the dog, no other brute shows anything
like the same measure of what we may term human quality. So far as the
field of the emotions is concerned, we are driven to believe that it
has been bred into the kind by the ages of intimate associations,
supported by the selective process which has led people to preserve
the individual of the species with which they found themselves the
most in sympathy. I repeat the suggestion, and shall repeat it yet
again, for the reason that just here--how effectively the reader's
imagination will suggest--we find a basis for the hope that, with
time and care, man may bring his subjects of the lower realm into a
more intimate, affectionate, and helpful relation than is dreamed of
by those who look upon them as mere brutes.
The most curious limitation which we find in dogs is as to the measure
of expression to which they have attained. No one who has well
considered the facts can doubt that our civilized varieties of this
species have something like a hundred times as much which deserves
utterance as their savage forefathers possessed. Yet the capacity for
giving note to these thoughts or emotions has not gained anything like
the proportion to the needs. It seems, however, that some gain in this
direction has been made, and that much may be won hereafter in the way
of further advance. Never having known the species whence our dogs came
in its wild state, we are uncertain as to its modes of expression; but,
observing the varieties of dogs which are kept by savages, it seems
probable that the primitive canines used their voice only in howling or
yelping; that is, as a continuous sound akin to the bellowings or other
cries of the various wild mammals. It is characteristic of all these
primitive forms of utterance that they are, to a great extent,
involuntary, and that when the outcry is begun it continues in a
mechanical manner, with no trace of modulation arising from the
conditions of the moment. In other words, these actions resemble, in a
way, sneezing or hiccoughing in human kind; actions which are
stimulated by certain states of the body, but which are not at all
under the control of the will. Howling or bellowing doubtless
represents, in a measure, a state of mind as well as of body, but the
action is of a general and uncontrolled kind.
The effect of advancing culture upon a dog has been gradually to
decrease this ancient undifferentiated mode of expression afforded by
howling and yelping, and to replace it by the much more speech-like
bark. There is some doubt whether the dogs possessed by savages have the
power of uttering the sharp, specialized note which is so characteristic
of the civilized forms of their species. It is clear, however, that if
they have the capacity of thus expressing themselves, they use it but
rarely. On the other hand, our high-bred dogs have, to a great extent,
lost the habit of expressing themselves in the ancient way. Many of our
breeds appear to have become incapable of ululating. There is no doubt
but this change in the mode of expression greatly increases the capacity
of our dogs to set forth their states of mind. If we watch a high-bred
dog, one with a wide range of sensibilities, which we may find in breeds
which have long been closely associated with man, we may readily note
five or six varieties of sound in the bark, each of which is clearly
related to a certain state of mind. The bark of welcome, of fear, of
rage, of doubt, and of pure fun, are almost always perfectly distinct to
the educated ear, and this although the observer may not be acquainted
with the creature; if he knows him well, he may be able to distinguish
various other intonations--those which express impatience and even an
element of sorrow. This last note verges toward the howl.
It does not seem to me that we should regard barking as a new and
useful invention; there are, indeed, few such in the organic world. The
sound appears to me to have been derived from the primitive habit of
howling. If we hearken to this utterance we perceive that it is not an
unbroken sound, but is somewhat intermittent. At either end of the
prolonged sound we can often notice that it is divided into rather
distinct yelps more or less completely separated from the other notes.
The cries of a dog when beaten often exhibit the same peculiarity; so,
too, the puppy, before he has attained skill in barking, will often
prolong each utterance in a way which makes its relation to the ancient
mode of expression tolerably clear. At the risk of being deemed
fanciful, I venture to suggest that the bark is in effect a division
of the howl into clearly separated notes, the change having come about
as a similar alteration is effected in our own speech, by the increase
in the intelligence which the creature is called upon to express. I
conceive that while the primitive and massive emotions found
satisfying utterance in the long-drawn notes, the more divided state
of mind of the humanized successor has led to a change in its
utterances. Although these modifications of speech, if such we may
term them, have probably been developed on the basis of the dog's
human relations, there is, it seems to me, good reason to believe that
the diversities in note have come to have a distinct conventional
value between the individuals of all the different breeds. Any one who
closely observes these animals must have noticed the fact that the
degree of attention they give to the utterances of their kindred
varies in a way which indicates that they have great varieties of
denotations. Some of the shades of the meaning which a dog's bark has
to others of his species probably escape our less fine ears.
The creation of something like a language among our civilized dogs
has naturally been accompanied by the development of an understanding
of human speech. Although we cannot attach much importance to the
mass of anecdote on this point, there is enough which is well
attested--sufficient, indeed, which has come within the limits of my
own observation--to make it clear that dogs, even without deliberate
teaching, frequently acquire a tolerably clear understanding of a
number of words and even of short phrases. They will catch these not
only when given in distinct command, but when uttered in an ordinary
tone, without any sign that they relate to their affairs. It is true
that these understood words generally relate to some action which the
dog is accustomed to perform, yet there are instances so well
attested that they deserve credit, which seem to show that the
creatures can get some sense of the drift of conversation even when
it is carried on by persons with whom they are not familiar and does
not clearly relate to their own affairs.
It should be observed that within the narrow limits of this essay little
or no effort has been made to interpret the state of mind of dogs from
the vast but rather untrustworthy mass of anecdote with which our books
are filled. So large a part of this evidence is contaminated by
prepossessions, and a yet larger part is so unverified in any scientific
sense, that for purposes of sound inquiry it is worthless. It therefore
seems best to limit ourselves, as has been done in this paper, to those
general actions of the creatures which are matters of common knowledge
and safely beyond question. From these indices we are able to determine
a basis for some important conclusions. These are in effect as follows,
viz.: Our domestic dog is derived from a species, one or more, akin to
the wolf, the jackal, and the fox; to a group of animals not
characterized by great native intelligence, but distinguished for their
ferocity and their general untamableness. There is no reason to believe
that the primitive dog had any more foundation for his great attainments
than his obstinately savage kindred, except that he may have had a
greater disposition to form an attachment to a master. We can hardly
believe that he had any share of that marvellous sympathy with man
and understanding of his motives which characterize the high-bred
varieties of his species. All this vast transformation, which from a
psychological point of view has carried the dog relatively as far up
above his origin as civilization has lifted man above his lowest
estate, has been due to human intercourse and the long and effective
concomitant selection of good from bad. It is hardly too much to say
that a large part of our human nature has been transferred into the
descendants of this ancient wild beast. The sense of property, a great
part of human affections, many of the attributes which constitute the
gentleman, have been passed over to him.
In considering the effects arising from the intercourse of man with the
dog, we should not overlook the development of human sympathy which has
come about through this relation. The fact that the dog has been made by
far the most sympathetic of the lower animals, is due to the affection
which men for thousands of years have given to him. In his intercourse
with this creature, man first learned to develop his altruistic motives
beyond the limits of his own kind. With this extension of his affection
must have begun the growth of that large motive, which is the most
distinguishing feature of our modern life, which leads us to go forth in
a loving manner to the living beings about us, not only to our flocks
and herds but to the life of the unsubjugated realm as well. Thus, in a
way, we may look upon the dog as affording the first steps on the path
of culture which was to lift man from his primitive selfishness to the
altruistic state to which he has attained.
Great as has been the work of man upon the dog--it deserves, indeed,
to be ranked high among all the accomplishments of his culture--there
is reason to believe that if he but go forward with understanding in
the ways which have hitherto led him blindly to his success, the
final result may be very much more perfect than that which has been
attained. It is on this account that I feel it fit to make a strong
protest against the system our breeders pursue. Except in the case of
dogs used in sport and for herding sheep, the sole effort appears to
be to create breeds which shall exhibit peculiarities of form which
are mere extravagances, and move the real lover of this noble animal
to indignation. In these preposterous and unseemly tasks no care is
taken to continue the mental development on lines which have been
established by long use. Still less is there any effort to essay the
development of the intelligence in ways which are clearly open to us,
and which afford possibilities of lifting this species to a yet
nobler companionship with our own kind.
It seems worth while for our associations of dog fanciers to undertake
to develop varieties of dogs solely with reference to the intellectual
qualities of the animal. I venture to suggest that those who seek this
end should select some of the primitive types of form, such as are
found among the undifferentiated mass of the species, those which are
improperly termed mongrels, and this for the reason that among these
unselected creatures the intelligence is quicker and more varied than
it is in the highly developed varieties. Under skilful trainers the
successive generations bred in the experimental station should be
subjected to tests which will indicate the measure of intellectual
ability. The results already attained by the unconscious selection
which man has applied serve to indicate that at the end of a century,
and perhaps in much less time, we might develop an animal which in
various ways would come to a closer intellectual relation with man than
any other lower species has attained.
Cats deserve some mention for the reason, that, while they are the least
essential, and on the whole the least interesting, of domesticated
animals, they have had a certain place in civilization. They afford,
moreover, a capital foil by which to set off the virtues of the dog.
Nowhere else, indeed, among the creatures which are intimately
associated with men, do we find two related forms which afford, along
with a certain likeness, such great diversities of quality.
We know nothing as to the time when the cat first found its way to the
associations of man. Presumably this period was much later than the
advent of the dog into the human family. The presumption rests upon the
fact that while the dog does not demand fixed residence as a condition
of its fealty, but is at home wherever his master is, the cat is the
creature of the domicile, caring more indeed for its dwelling-place than
it ever does for the inmates thereof. In a word, the creature must have
come to us after our forefathers gave up the nomadic life.
Nevertheless, the association is very ancient; it has endured in Egypt
at least for a term of several thousand years.
Among the curious features connected with the association of the cat
with man, we may note that it is the only animal which has been
tolerated, esteemed, and at times worshipped, without having a
single distinctly valuable quality. It is, in a small way,
serviceable in keeping down the excessive development of small
rodents, which from the beginning have been the self-invited guests
of man. As it is in a certain indifferent way sympathetic, and by
its caresses appears to indicate affection, it has awakened a
measure of sympathy which it hardly deserves. I have been unable to
find any authentic instances which go to show the existence in cats
of any real love for their masters.
In the matter of intelligence cats appear to rank almost as high as
dogs. They are even quicker than their canine relatives in
discerning the nature of man's artful contrivances; they readily
acquire the habit of opening doors which are closed by means of a
latch, even where it is necessary to combine the strong pull on the
handle with the push that completes the operation. Feats of this
sort are rarely if ever performed by dogs.
The most peculiar quality in the mind of cats is the intense way in
which they cling to a well-known locality. Their memory of places, and
affection for them, if we may so term it, is evidently far greater
than that which they feel for people. Some years ago I had an
interesting exhibition of this singular humor. A well-grown and
thoroughly domesticated cat, one that seemed more than usually
attached to people, was brought from my house in town to a place on
the shore. When released, the creature seemed for some days to be
nearly insane. It did not recognize any of its friends, it betook
itself to the fields, and was with difficulty captured at the end
of a week of roaming, during which it appeared to have had no food.
Confined within one room, it gradually recovered its powers of mind,
and began to take account of its friends. In the course of a month it
seemed to be reconciled to its surroundings. Nine months after its
first sojourn in the wilderness it was again brought from the town to
the same place. On the second visit the creature was somewhat uneasy,
but this passed away in a day or two. On a third visit, after a like
interval, it seemed at once and entirely at home. Nevertheless, its
habits while in the country differ very much from those it has in
town. In its original domicile it insists on being about the table at
meal-times. While in the country it does not care to be present; in
fact, it appears to avoid associations with the household. It seems
to me that this cat, after the manner of some men whose brains are
diseased, now lives in two distinct states of consciousness, each
relating to one of its places of abode.
[Illustration: Hounds Running a Wild Boar
(Showing the habit of attacking neck of prey.) ]
The differences as regards affection for localities which is shown by
cats and dogs are perhaps to be accounted for by an original and
essential variation in the habits of life in their wild ancestors.
Judging by the kindred of the species which are known to us in their
wild state, we may fairly suppose that the dogs were of old accustomed
to range over a wide field, having no fixed place of abode; the pack
ranging, if the occasion served, for hundreds of miles in any direction.
On the other hand, with the cats, it is characteristic of the species
that they have lairs to which they resort, and a definite hunting ground
in which they seek their food. They are, in a word, animals of very
determined routine. As there has been no effort by breeding to change
this feature, it has remained in all its old ingrained intensity.
As a consequence of the affection which cats have for particular places,
they often return to the wilderness when by chance the homes in which
they have been reared are abandoned. Thus in New England, in those
sections of the district where many farmsteads have of late years been
deserted, the cats have remained about their ancient haunts and have
become entirely wild. In this State they are bred in such numbers that
their presence is now a serious menace to the birds and other weaker
creatures of the country. The behavior of these feralized animals
differs somewhat from that of creatures which have never been tamed.
They have not the same immediate fear of a man, but the least effort to
approach them leads to their hasty flight.
While considering the inelastic quality which is exhibited by cats as
compared with the dog, the naturalist notes with interest the fact that
the former creature belongs to a family which has never been accustomed
to any social life beyond the limits of the family. Moreover, all the
cats have the habit of hunting in a solitary way, each for itself, in
the achievement and in the result. It is otherwise with dogs. They
belong to a group which hunts in packs. For ages they have been used to
a communal life. Their minds have thus become accustomed to social
intercourse; they are used to having their excitements of the chase in
comradeship, and generally they are accustomed to the rough-and-tumble
fraternity which we behold in a pack of wolves. It was long ago remarked
that the really social animals are those which afford the only good
material for subjugation. The difference between the cat and dog seems,
in a way, to warrant this statement.
Although it is likely that many efforts have been made to domesticate
the other larger felines, no distinct success has attended these
experiments. A large Asiatic cat known as the chetah is somewhat used
in hunting for sport, but the species has never been adopted in any
definite way. In fact, with all the larger cats, including the lion,
which is structurally a little apart from the other members of
the group, the size and furious nature of the animal have made it
impossible to begin the process of selection which has been the means
whereby the wilderness motive has been replaced by that of the
household in the case of all other domesticated beasts.
THE HORSE
Value of the Strength of the Horse to Man.--Origin of the
Horse.--Peculiar Advantage of the Solid Hoof.--Domestication of the
Horse.--How begun.--Use as a Pack Animal.--For War.--Peculiar
Advantages of the Animal for Use of Men.--Mental
Peculiarities.--Variability of Body.--Spontaneous Variations due to
Climate.--Variations of Breeds.--Effect of the Invention of
Horseshoes.--Donkeys and Mules compared with Horse.--Especial Value
of these Animals.--Diminishing Value of Horses in Modern
Civilization.--Continued Need of their Service in War.
The largest economic problem which primitive people on their way upward
towards civilization had unconsciously to face was that of obtaining
some kind of strength which could be added to the power of their own
weak limbs. For all his eminent capacities of body, man is not a strong
animal, nor is he so built that he can apply the measure of strength
that is in him to good advantage. There are scores if not hundreds
of species with which he came in contact in his effort to dominate
nature that are stronger, swifter, and better provided with natural
weapons. With the first step upward, as in almost all the succeeding
steps, the advance depended on securing more energy than that with
which our kind was directly endowed. It is hardly too much to say
that the progress of mankind beyond the savage state would probably
never have been effected but for the bodily help which has been
rendered by a few domesticated animals.
From the point of view of the student of domesticated animals the races
of men may well be divided into those which have and those which have
not the use of the horse. Although there are half a score of other
animals which have done much for man, which have indeed stamped
themselves upon his history, no other creature has been so inseparably
associated with the great triumphs of our kind, whether won on the
battle-field or in the arts of peace. So far as material comfort, or
even wealth, is concerned, we of the northern realms and present age
could, perhaps, better spare the horse from our present life than
either sheep or horned cattle; but without this creature it is certain
that our civilization would never have developed in anything like its
present form. Lacking the help which the horse gives, it is almost
certain that, even now, it could not be maintained.
We know the ancient natural history of the horse more completely than
that of any other of our domesticated animals. We can trace the steps
by which its singularly strong limbs and feet, on which rests its value
to man, were formed in the great laboratory of geologic time. The story
is so closely related to the interests of man that it will be well
briefly to set it before the reader. In the first stages of the
Tertiary period, in the age when we begin to trace the evolution of the
suck-giving animals above the lowly grade in which the kangaroos and
opossums belong, we find the ancestors of our mammalian series all
characterized by rather weakly organized limbs fitted, as were those of
their remoter kindred the marsupials, for tree climbing rather than for
moving over the surface of the ground. The fact is, that all the
creatures of this great clan acquired their properties of body in
arboreal life, and with such relatively small and light bodies as were
fitted for tree climbing. For this use the feet need to be
loose-jointed, and so the system of five toes, each terminating in a
sharp and strong nail or claw, became fixed in the inheritances. When,
gaining strength and coming to possess a more important place in the
world, these ancient tree-dwellers were able to occupy the ground which
of old had been possessed by the great reptiles, the limbs that had
served well for an arboreal life had to undergo many changes in order
to fit them for progression in the new realm.
If we watch the progress of a bear over the surface of the ground, we
readily perceive how lumbering is its gait and how poor the speed which
it attains. Its slow and shambling movement is due to the fact that it
has the tree-climbing foot, and is not well fitted for motion such as is
required in running. To attain anything like speed in this exercise it
is necessary to support the body on the tips of the toes. Every man who
has gained any skill in this art knows full well how incompetent he is
if he tries to run with rapidity in the flat-footed manner. The bear
cannot essay this method of progression on the toe-tips because its
loose-jointed feet cannot be made to support its heavy body. In this way
arose the necessity of developing a peculiar kind of foot when that part
had to serve for rapid locomotion. The experiments to this end have been
numerous and varied. Thus in the elephants, which retain the originally
numerous toes, the bones of these members are planted in an upright
position and tied together with such strong muscles and sinews, that the
foot parts have something like the solidity and strength of the upper
portions of the legs. In the single-hoofed or horse-like forms, and in
the cloven-footed animals, other series of experiments have been tried
which in the end have proved most successful, giving us animals with the
speediest movements of any animals except the creatures of the air.
[Illustration: A Hunter]
The success which has been attained in our ordinary large herbivora, and
which has made them competent to evade the chase of the beasts of prey,
has been accomplished by reducing the number of the toes, giving the
strength of the aborted parts to increase the power of those remaining.
The result is the formation of two great groups, the double-hoofed
forms, including the pigs, deer, cattle, sheep, and their kindred, and
the single-toed species, of which our horse is the foremost example. In
the reduction of the number of toes, different plans were followed in
each of these groups. In the cloven-hoofed forms, a single toe first
disappeared, leaving but four; then the two outer of these were aborted,
leaving two nearly equal digits. In the series of the horse, where we
can trace the change more clearly, we find the earliest form five-toed,
but the outer and inner digit shrunken so as to become of little use.
This condition of the creature in the early Tertiaries gives us the
beginning of the equine series, and shows that far away as the creature
is now from ourselves, it originated from the main stem of mammalian
life, from which our own forms have sprung. In the next higher stage in
time, and likewise in development, we find these lessened toes at their
vanishing point, and two of the remaining digits, lying on either side
of what corresponds to the middle finger in our own hands, beginning to
shrink in length and volume, while the central toe becomes larger and
stronger than before. Last in the series we come to our ordinary equine
form, in which nothing is left but the single massive extremity, though
the remnants of two of the toes can be traced in the form of slender
bones known as splints, which are altogether enclosed within the skin
which wraps the region about the fetlock joints.
As if it were to show to us the history of this marvellous organic
achievement, nature now and then, though seldom--perhaps not oftener
than one in ten million instances--sends forth a horse with three hoofs
to each leg. Two of these are small and lie on either side of the
functioning extremity. Each of these hoofs is connected with a
splint-bone which has in some way suddenly become reminded of its
ancient use, and develops in a manner to imitate the creatures which
passed from the earth millions of years ago. In most cases the
splint-bones have no function whatever to perform. They are indeed
superfluous and injurious parts, and are likely from time to time to be
worse than useless, becoming the seats of disease. In this beautiful
instance, perhaps the fairest of all those showing how the highly
developed forms of our time retain a memory of their ancestral life, we
see how the advance in the series of the horse has been effected against
the resistance ancient organic habit opposes to all gains. We can
therefore the better understand how the building of the hoof represents
the labor of geologic ages during which the slow-made gains were won.
In its present elaborate form, the hoof of a horse is the most perfect
instrument of support which has been devised in the animal kingdom to
uphold a large and swiftly moving animal in its passage over the
ground. The original toe-nail, and the neighboring soft parts connected
with it, have been modified into a structure which in an extraordinary
manner combines solidity with elasticity, so that it may strike violent
blows upon the hard surface of the earth without harm. The bones of the
toe to which it is affixed have enlarged with the progressive loss of
their neighbors of the extremity, until they fairly continue the
dimensions of the bony parts of the leg. Moreover, they have lengthened
out, so as to give the limb a great extension, and this, in turn,
magnifies the stride which the creature can take in running. The result
is that the horse can carry a greater weight at a swifter speed than
any other animal approaching it in size.
[Illustration: On Rotten Row, Hyde Park, London]
The needs which led, in a slow accumulative way, to the invention of
the admirable contrivance of the horse's foot, were doubtless founded
on the necessities of swift movement in fleeing from the great
predaceous animals. Incidentally, however, as this development has
gone on, the peculiarities of the extremity have proved highly
advantageous in defence, and the creatures have acquired certain
peculiar ways of using their feet effectively to this end. The solid
character of the hoof, its considerable weight, and the great power
of the muscles of the hams, which are the principal agents in
propelling the animal, make the hind feet capable of delivering a
very powerful blow. The measure of its efficiency may be judged from
the fact that a lion has been slain by a stroke from the foot of a
donkey, and in their wild state a herd of horses with their heads
together, can beat off the attack of the most powerful beasts of
prey. In using the hind feet for assault or defence, horses have
adopted an effective method of kicking which is unknown among other
animals. Resting on their fore-legs, the hinder feet are thrown
backward and upward, so that they may strike a blow six feet from the
ground. Many of our cloven-footed animals have learned to strike
cutting blows with the sharp hoofs of their fore-limbs--our bulls
will stamp a fallen enemy with great force; but the backward kick of
the horse is a peculiar movement, and is distinctly related to the
peculiar structure of the animal's extremities.
It is an interesting fact that the development of a long and slowly
elaborated series leading to the making of the horse appears to have
taken place mainly, if not altogether, in the region about the
headwaters of the Missouri River. In the olden days when this great work
was done, that part of our continent was a well-watered country, much of
its surface being occupied by great lakes which have long since
disappeared. In the deposits accumulated in these bodies of fresh water
are found the bones of the olden species telling the history of their
series. It is not yet certain that the final step of the accomplishment
which gave us our existing species was effected in this land. It seems
indeed most likely that the ancestral form of our domesticated horses
found their way to the continents of the Old World, and there underwent
the last slight changes, before they were made captive by man. If there
ever were perfect horses on this continent, they had passed away from
its area before the coming of man to the land. The history of our
aborigines would have been quite other than it has been, if they had
had a chance to win the assistance of this noble helpmeet.
Central Asia appears to have been the domicile of the horse when he
first began his acquaintance with our kind. We do not know the
original form of the creature. The wild horses existing at the
present day in that part of the world, and which plentifully occur
in other regions whereunto they have been taken by man, appear to
have been set free from captivity.
[Illustration: Horse of a Bulgarian Marauder]
The first domestication of the horse appears to have been brought
about, at an early time in the history of our race, in northern Asia.
The time when this feat was accomplished antedates our records. The
creature may first have come into possession of the Tartar tribes,
but it quickly passed over Asia and Europe and shortly became the
mainstay of the Aryan and Semitic folk. None other of our
domesticated forms has been disseminated with like rapidity, or at
the outset with as little change in its original features. From the
first the horse seems to have been mainly used as a saddle and pack
animal. It has never served in any considerable measure for food. The
failure to make use of the flesh of this animal appears to be common
to most of the savage or barbaric people who keep horses, and has been
transmitted in a singularly definite way to all civilized folk. The
origin of such a prejudice, despite the fact that the flesh of the
horse is of excellent quality, can only be explained through the
sympathetic motives common to all men. Their association with the
horse, as with the dog, is so intimate as to make the use of these
animals in the form of food more or less repugnant. In a small though
unimportant way, mares have been used for milk, and there seems no
reason to doubt that, if they had been carefully bred for this purpose,
they might have been as serviceable as the cow. It may be that the
failure to use the milk of the horse is to be accounted for on the
same ground as the dislike to its flesh.
The horse was probably at first most valued for its use in war. The
peoples which possessed it certainly had a great advantage over their
less well provided neighbors. In fact the development of the military
art, as distinguished from the mere fighting of savages, was made easy
by the strength, endurance, fleetness, and measure of bravery
characterizing this creature. In the wide range of species which have
been domesticated or might be won to companionship with man, there is
none other which so completely supplements the imperfect human body,
making it fit for great deeds. If the horse had been much smaller or
larger than he is, he would have been far less serviceable to man. It
was a most fortunate accident that the creature came to us with the
proportions which insured a high measure of utility in various lines
of activity. The elephant has been found too large for agricultural
uses, and too powerful to be controlled by the will and force of his
master under conditions of excitement.
[Illustration: Mare and Foal]
Those peoples which early acquired the resources in the way of
strength and fleetness which the horse put at their disposition,
became inevitably the conquerors of the folk who were denied these
advantages. If we consider the conditions which have led to the
domination of the world by the Aryan and Semitic people, and the
races which they have affiliated with them, we readily discern the
fact that they have, to a great extent, won by horse-power rather
than by their own physical strength. Thus equipped by their able
servants, they have pressed outward from their ancient realms and
have in a way overridden the tribes which were unmounted.
So imposing is the effect of the horsed man on all peoples who are
without previous knowledge of the united creatures, that it always
carries fear to their hearts. To such folk the combination appears as
a single terrible being. The ease with which the Spaniards conquered
Mexico and Peru can, to a great extent, be attributed to the awe
carried into the ranks of the savage footmen by their mail-clad
horses. The Greeks, who were wont to represent the forces of nature
and the accomplishments of man by skilfully constructed myths, have
left a record showing their appreciation of the strength derived from
the union of horse and man, in their fable of the Centaur, which
possibly grew up in a time before their people had won the use of the
animal, and when they only knew the creature by chance encounters
with enemies who were mounted upon them. Although the naturalist of
to-day perceives the impossibility of there ever having been on this
earth a form uniting the trunk and fore-limbs of a quadruped to the
upper part of a man's body, such scientific conceptions are a part of
our modern, recently acquired store of knowledge. To the Greeks of
the myth-making age the creature, half man, half horse, added but one
more wonder to the vast store the world already contained. The
currency of this fable shows us very clearly how great was the
impression which the horse made upon primitive peoples.
To perceive the value of the horse in those ancient contests which
opened the paths of civilization, we must note the fact that, until
the invention of gunpowder, success in breaking the ranks of an
enemy depended mainly on the charge. With a large body of vigorous
horsemen it was generally possible to overwhelm an enemy's line of
battle, either by direct assault or by an attack on its flank or
rear. If the reader is curious to see the value of horsemen in
ancient warfare, he should read the story of the campaigns of
Hannibal against the Romans in Italy. The first successes of that
great commander--victories which came near changing the history of
the western world--were almost altogether due to the strength lying
in his admirable Numidian cavalry. The Romans were already good
soldiers, their footmen more trustworthy than those which the
Carthagenian general could set against them; but with his horsemen,
as at Cannae, he could wrap in the Roman line and reduce the most
valiant legions to the confused herd which awaited the butcher.
[Illustration: Cavalry Horse]
Although the invention of firearms has somewhat changed the
conditions under which cavalry may be used, making indeed the direct
charge more costly to the assailant than the assailed, it has in no
wise diminished, but rather increased, the value of horses in
military campaigns. In the line of battle horses have become
necessary for the conveyance of field officers and messengers, and
the right arm of battle, the artillery, could not possibly be managed
except by horse-power. The swift marches of modern armies, by
hastening the issue of contests, have spared the world half the woes
of its great campaigns, and are made possible by the ready movement
of supply trains, which could not be effected except by the help of
these creatures. The result is that a large part of the military
strength of any state rests not only in the valor and training of its
fighting men, but in the supply of horses that its fields may afford.
In this connection it is instructive to compare the military
strength of a country like China, where the horse is not a common
element in the life of the people, with that of any of the western
folk who may hereafter have to wrestle with that populous empire.
Some writers, in their efforts to forecast the large politics of the
future, have imagined that when the hardy and obedient Chinaman came
to receive the European training in the military art, the armies of
that country might prove from their numbers a menace to our own
civilization. Such an issue seems in a high degree improbable, for
the reason that the eastern realm could not provide the horses which
would be necessary for the use of invading armies; nor is it at all
likely that the rigid framework of their society will ever be so
altered as to provide an abundance of these animals.
[Illustration: Plough Horses, France]
Although in the first instance the horse served mainly, if not
altogether, as an ally of man in his contests with his neighbors, its
most substantial use has been in the peaceful arts. As pack animal and
drawer of the plough, the ox appears in general to have come into use
before its swifter companion. The displacement of horned cattle has
been due to the fact that their structure and habits make them much
less fit for arduous and long-continued labor than the horse has been
found to be. The cloven foot, because of its division, is weak. It
cannot sustain a heavy burden. Even with the unincumbered weight of
the body of the animal, the feet are apt to become sore in marches
which the heavily mounted horse endures unharmed. Centuries of
experience have shown that while the ox is an excellent animal for
drawing a plough in a stubborn soil, and is well adapted to pulling
carriages where the burden is heavy and the speed is not a matter of
importance and the distance not great, the creature is too slow for
the greater part of the work which the farmer needs to do. The pace
which they can be made to take in walking is not more than half as
great as that of a quick-footed horse moving in the same gait; and the
ox is practically incapable, because of its weak feet, of keeping up a
trot on any ordinary road. But for the fact that an aged ox may be
used for beef, they would doubtless long since have ceased to serve us
as draught animals. As it is, with the growing money value of the
laborer's time, this slow-moving creature is steadily and rather
rapidly disappearing from our farms. This change, indeed, is one of
the most indicative of all those now occurring in our agriculture. It
is an excellent example of the operations which the increase in the
workman's pay is bringing into our civilization.
The natural advantages of the horse for the use of man consisted in
its size, strength, and endurance to burden; form of the body, which
enabled a skilful rider to maintain his position astride the trunk; and
the peculiar shape of the mouth and disposition of the teeth which made
it possible to use the bit. With these direct physical advantages there
were others of a physiological and psychic sort, of equal value. The
creature breeds as well under domestication as in the wilderness; the
young are fit for some service in the third year of their life, and
are, at least in the less elaborated breeds, in a mature condition when
they are five years old. Experience shows that the animal can subsist
on a great variety of diet, being in this regard surpassed only by its
humbler kinsman the donkey, and by the goats. There are few fields so
lean that they will not maintain serviceable horses. They do well alike
in mountain pastures and amid the herbage of the moistest plainland.
The mental peculiarities of the horse are much less characteristic than
its physical. It is indeed the common opinion, among those who do not
know the animal well, that it is endowed with much sagacity, but no
experienced and careful observer is likely to maintain this opinion.
All such students find the intelligence of the horse to be very
limited. It requires but little observation to show that the creature
observes quickly, and in some way classifies the objects with which it
comes in contact. The fear aroused in it by unknown things makes this
feature of attention to the surrounding world very evident. Almost all
these animals retain a tolerably distinct memory of the roads which
they have traversed, even if they have passed over them but a few
times. The studies which I have made on this point show me that the
average horse will be able to return on a road which it has traversed
a few hours before, with less risk of blundering than an ordinary
driver. Some well-endowed animals can remember as many as a dozen
turnings in a path over which they have journeyed three or four times.
It seems almost certain that their guidance in these movements is not
at all effected by the sense of smell, but is due to a distinct memory
of the detailed features of the country.
[Illustration: Belgian Fisherman's Horse]
Good as is the horse's memory, it is difficult to organize its actions
on that basis. Only in rare cases and with much labor can he be taught
to execute movements that are at all complicated. Fire-engine horses
may be trained of their own will to step into the position where they
are to be attached to the carriage. Some artillery horses will, as I
have noticed, associate the sound of the bugle with the resulting
movements of the guns and take the appropriate positions, where they
may be out of danger in the rapid swinging of the teams and
carriages. It is partly because of this training received by
disciplined artillery horses, that it seems to many experienced
officers not worth while to have militia companies in this arm, who
have to manoeuvre with animals untrained for the service. Although
some part of this mental defect in the horse, causing its actions to
be widely contrasted with those of the dog, may be due to a lack of
deliberate training and to breeding with reference to intellectual
accomplishment, we see by comparing the creature with the elephant,
which practically has never been bred in captivity, that the equine
mind is, from the point of view of rationality, very feeble.
The emotional side of the horse's nature seems little more developed
than its rational. Although they have a certain affection for the hand
which feeds them, and in a mild way are disposed to form friendships
with other animals, they are not really affectionate, and never, so
far as I have been able to find, show any distinct signs of grief at
separation from their masters or of pleasure when they return to them.
Although there are many stories appearing to indicate a certain
faithfulness in horses which have remained beside their fallen and
wounded riders, the facts do not justify us in supposing that such
actions are due to the affection a dog clearly feels.
[Illustration: Horses for Towing on the Beach in Holland]
We have been singularly led astray by a chance use of the epithet
"horse," which has come to be applied to many organic forms and
functions where strength is indicated. Thus, in the case of plants we
speak of "horse-radish" or "horse-mint," denoting thereby spices which
have strong qualities. Horse-chestnut is another instance of the
application of the term to plants. It chanced that "horse-sense" came
to be used to indicate a sound understanding, and in an obscure way,
but in a manner common with words, this has led to a vague implication
of mental capacity in the animals whence the term is derived. The fact
is that our horses, as far as their mental powers are concerned,
appear to be the least improvable of our great domesticated animals.
[Illustration: A Hurdle Jumper]
Little elastic as the horse appears to be on the psychic side of its
nature, in its physical aspects it is one of the most plastic of all the
forms subjected to the breeder's art. It requires no more than a glance
at the streets of our large cities to see how great is the range in
size, form, and carriage of these animals which may be found in any of
our great centres of civilization. We readily perceive that these
variations have a distinct relation to the several divisions of human
activity in which this creature has a share. The massive cart-horse,
weighing it may be as much as eighteen hundred or two thousand pounds,
heavy limbed, big headed, unwilling to move at a pace faster than a slow
trot, yet not without the measure of beauty seemingly inseparable from
the species, contrasts very markedly with the alert saddle animal bred
for speed and grace, and for the easy movement which makes it
comfortable to the equestrian. Between these extremes we may note minor
differences which, though they may not strike those persons who take
only a commonplace view of the creatures, are most marked to the
initiated. The trotter, the coach horse, the strong but nimble animals
which are used in fire-engines and other heavy carriages which have to
be swiftly moved, mark the results of breeding designed to insure
particular qualities, and show how readily the physical features of the
animal can be made to fit to our desires.
Although from an early day a certain amount of care has been given to
breeding horses for saddle purposes, the careful and continuous choice
which has led to the modern variations is a matter of only a few
centuries of endeavor. So far as we can judge from the classic
monuments, the olden varieties were mere varieties of the pony--the
small, compact, agile creature which had not departed far from the
parent wild form. It seems to me doubtful whether any of the horses
possessed by the Greeks or Romans attained a weight much exceeding a
thousand pounds, or had the peculiarities of our modern breeds. The
first considerable departure from the original type appears to have
been brought about when it became necessary to provide a creature
which could serve as a mount for the heavy armored knights of the
Middle Ages, where man and horse were weighted with from one to two
hundred pounds of metal. To serve this need it was necessary to have a
saddle animal of unusual strength, weighing about three-quarters of a
ton, easily controllable and at once fairly speedy and nimble. To meet
this necessity the Norman horse was gradually evolved, the form
naturally taking shape in that part of Europe where the iron-clad
warrior was most perfectly developed. In the tapestries and other
illustrative work of that day, when the knight won tournaments and
battle-fields, gaining victory by the weight and speed which he
brought to bear upon his enemies, we can see this splendid animal, in
physical form, at least, the finest product of man's care and skill in
the development of the lower species.
With the advance in the use of firearms the value of the Norman horse
in the art of war rapidly diminished. This breed, however, has, with
slight modifications, survived, and is extensively used for draught
purposes where strength at the sacrifice of speed is demanded. It is a
curious fact that the creatures which now draw the beer wagons of
London often afford the nearest living successors in form to the
horses which bore the mediaeval knights. It is an ignoble change, but
we must be grateful for any accident which has preserved to us, though
in a somewhat degraded form, this noblest product of the breeder's
art, which, even as much as the valor of our ancestors, won success
for our Teutonic folk in their great struggle with Islam. A tincture
of this Norman blood, perhaps the firmest fixed in the species of any
variety, pervades many other strains most valuable in our arts. The
best of our artillery horses, particularly those set next the wheels,
are generally in part Norman. In the well-known American Morgan, the
swiftest and strongest of our harnessed forms, the observant eye
detects indications of this masterful blood.
The Norman strains of horses retain certain interesting indications of
their ancient lineage and occupation. As appears to be common with old
breeds, the stock is readily maintained. It breeds true to its
ancestry, with little tendency to those aberrations so common in the
newly instituted varieties. When crossed with other strains, the
effect of the intermixture of this strong blood is distinctly
traceable for many generations. In their mental habits these creatures
still appear to show something of the effects of their old use in war;
it is a valiant race, less given to insane fear than other strains,
and, even under excitement, more controllable than the most of their
kindred. So far as I have been able to learn, they seem singularly
free from those wild panics which are so common among our ordinary
horses. It does not seem to me fanciful to suppose that these
qualities were bred in the stock during the centuries of experience
with the confusion of battle-fields and tournaments.
[Illustration: Exercising the Thoroughbreds]
The horse, in common with the other domesticated animals varying
readily in the hands of the breeder, undergoes a certain spontaneous
change which in a way corresponds to the physiography of the region in
which it is bred. At first sight it may seem as if these alterations
are due to the admixture of previously existing varieties, or to the
institution of peculiarities by some process of selection. I am,
however, well convinced that these variations are in good part due to a
direct influence from the environment. Thus in our high northern lands
there is a distinct and spontaneous reduction in size of the creatures,
which attains its farthest point in the Shetland pony. Again, as we go
toward the tropics, a like though less conspicuous decrease in bulk is
observable. The largest animals of the species develop in the middle
latitudes, the realm where the form appears to have acquired its
characters. The speed with which these local variations are made is
often great. Thus the horses of Kentucky have, in about a century,
acquired a certain stamp of the soil which makes it possible, in most
cases, for the observer to identify an individual as from that State,
though he may find it in a field a thousand miles away. The defining
indications are not limited altogether to bodily form, but are shown in
what might seem trifling features of carriage and behavior. The
difference between the horses of Great Britain and those of the United
States seems to me, from repeated observations, to be quite as great as
that separating the men of the two realms. I believe that if a lot of a
thousand, taken in equal parts from either land, were put together, a
person well accustomed to taking account of these animals could
separate them into two herds, with less than ten per cent. of error. It
is doubtful if a more perfect selection could be made if the same
experiment were tried on an equal number of men, provided the indices
to be derived from peculiarities of speech or dress could be excluded.
[Illustration: An Arabian Horse]
By some the Arabian horse is thought to be the most remarkable
specialization of the kind which has been attained. In his native
country and in his perfection, the Arab breed has been seen by but
few persons who have been specially trained in noting the
peculiarities of the animal. So far as I have been able to judge by
pictures and a few specimens, said to be thoroughbreds of their
stock, which I have had a chance to see, the Arabian form of the
horse appears to have been led less far away from the primitive
stock than many of our European and American varieties.
[Illustration: Arabian Sports]
The very great, if not the preeminent, success of the horse in Arabia
is the more remarkable from the fact that it has been attained under
conditions which, from an _a priori_ point of view, must be deemed
most unfavorable. This variety has been bred in a land of scant
herbage and deficient water-supply, where the creature has had from
time to time, indeed we may say generally, to endure something of the
dearth of food which stunts the Indian ponies and the other horses of
the Cordilleran district. The ancestors of the horse appear to have
attained their development in well-watered and fertile regions. All
the varieties bred within the limits of civilization do best on rich
pasturages such as Arabia does not afford. The success of the horse in
that land shows how devoted must have been the care which has been
given to its nurture. Fitting, as the Arabian horse does, exactly to
the needs of nomadic people engaged in almost constant warfare, it
has naturally been a far more important helper to the wild folk of
the desert lands about the eastern Mediterranean and the Red Sea than
to any other race. In those lands horses fell into the keeping of a
very able folk. The contrast between the care devoted to the animals
by them, and that which our Indians give to their ponies, is a fair
measure of the difference in the ability of these very diverse races.
As a whole, the horse demands for his best nurture and keeping an
amount of care required by no other animal which has been won to the
uses of man, unless perhaps it be the silkworm. Kept in its best
state, the horse has to be sedulously groomed. To be maintained in
its very best condition some hours of human labor must each day be
given to keeping his skin in order. The effect arising from a
friction on the horse's hide is not confined to the beauty that comes
from cleanliness, but in a curious way reacts upon the general
nervous tone of the animal. All those who are familiar with horses
will, I think, agree with me that much grooming distinctly increases
the endurance and elasticity of their bodies. The influence of the
grooming process appears to be somewhat like that obtained by massage
and friction of the skin in the training of an athlete. More than
once I have had occasion to observe the effect of this process on
some ancient horse of good blood, which for years had been allowed in
its old age to go uncared for as an idle tenant of the pastures. Two
or three days of assiduous grooming will bring back the strength and
suppleness to the aged limbs, and restore something of the olden
spirit. The effect obtained from this care is the more remarkable for
the reason that nothing similar to it was experienced by the wild
ancestors of these creatures. It is as artificial as bathing in the
case of man. The influence of the treatment shows how very unnatural
is the state of our civilized horses.
The task of providing horses with food is more considerable than in
the case of any of our other domesticated creatures. By nature the
animal is a frequent feeder, and does not well endure long fasts. Its
stomach is rather small for the size of the body, and the digestive
process appears to be more than usually rapid. A mounted animal, when
taxed to its utmost, should be fed four or five times a day, and with
less than three good meals is apt to break down. No such care in the
matter of provender is necessary in the case of the other members of
man's animal family. The contrast between the physiological
conditions of the camel and those of the horse are fully recognized
by the Arabs, in their almost complete neglect of the individuals of
the one species and their exceeding care of the other.
[Illustration: English Polo Ponies]
Perhaps the greatest element of care which man has had to devote to
the horse is found in the matter of shoeing. In the state of nature
the admirably constructed hoof sufficiently provided the animal
against the excessive wearing of its horny extremity. Nature,
however, rarely provides for more strength and endurance than the
creature in its wild state demands; and so it comes about that when
horses have to bear burdens or draw carriages, particularly on
roadways, their unprotected feet will not withstand the strain which
is put upon them, the rate of growth of the structure composing the
hoof not being sufficiently rapid to make good the wearing which
these unnatural conditions impose. For thousands of years, in the
roadless stages of man's development, the difficulties arising from
the wearing of the hoof were not serious, for the creatures trod
either on turf-covered plains or on the soft ways of the desert.
When the advance of culture made roads necessary, when carriages
were invented and something like our modern conditions were
instituted, it became imperatively necessary to provide additional
protection for the feet. We find the Greeks, in the classic time,
wrestling with this problem. Xenophon, in his treatise on the care
of horses, advises that they be reared on stony ground, he having
observed that, in a natural way, the hoof becomes somewhat adapted
to the necessities of its conditions. The Romans found the
difficulty from the tender foot of the horse yet more serious on
their paved roads; but both these classic people showed, in their
ways of dealing with the difficulty, that lack of inventive skill
which so curiously separates the olden from the modern men. They
devised soles of leather and bags as coverings for the horse's feet,
but none of the contrivances could have been very serviceable. All
such coverings must have been quickly worn out in active use.
So far as we can determine, it was not until about the fourth century
of our era that the iron horseshoe was invented. This valuable
contrivance appears to have originated in Greek or Roman lands,
probably in the former realm, for it first bore the name of "selene,"
from its likeness to the crescent shape of the new moon. Although
simple, the horseshoe was a most important invention, for it
completely reconciled the animal to the conditions of our higher
civilization by removing the one hinderance to its general use in the
work of war and commerce. It is probable that with this invention
began the great task of differentiating the several breeds of
European horses for their use in various employments, as draught
animals for packing purposes, as light saddle horses, and the
bearing of armored men. Neither the draught nor the war horses of
Europe could well have been specialized until their heavy bodies were
separated from the ground by these metallic coverings of the hoof.
[Illustration: Syrian Horse]
Much has depended on the specialization of the horse into different
breeds, made possible by the iron shoe. By reconciling the creature to
uses--agriculture, which depends on draught animals, and the commerce
of importance, which can only be effected by means of wagons--the
rapid economic development of our civilization was made possible. By
developing a horse capable of bearing an armored man, Europe was
brought into a condition in which organized armies took the place of
mere forays, and so the development of centralized states was
promoted. In the warfare between the Mohammedans and the Christian
states of Europe, in the campaigns with the Turks and the Saracens,
it is easy to see that the powerful breeds of horses reared in western
and northern Europe were a mighty element in determining the issue of
the contest. The battles of these momentous campaigns represented, not
only a struggle between the Christian Aryans and the Semitic followers
of Mahomet, but, in quite as great a degree, the war was waged between
the light and agile steeds of the Orient and the massive and powerful
animals that bore the mail-clad warriors of the West. On the field of
Tours, when the fate of Christian Europe for hours hung in the
balance, we may well believe that the strong and enduring horses of
the northern cavalry did much to give victory to our race.
Along with our general account of the place of the horse in
civilization, it is fit to give something to the story of his near,
though inferior, kinsmen, the ass and the mule, both of which have
played a subordinate, though important, part in the same field of
endeavor in which the nobler species has done so much for man. The
original progenitors of our donkeys differed from the ancestral form
of the horse by variations of good specific value. So far as we can
determine from visible features, these forms were more distinctly
parted than the dog and the wolf, or either of these animals from the
jackal. Nevertheless, these equine forms are clearly closely akin, for
they may be bred together. Although the original stock of the ass may
possibly have been lost, it seems most likely that the wild forms
which exist in Asia have not wandered off from captivity, but are the
remnants of the original wilderness form.
It appears likely that the two domesticated equine species have been
under the care of man for about the same length of time; but the
difference in their condition, and in the place which they hold in
civilization, is very great. As we have seen, the horse has been made
to vary in a singular measure, its form and other qualities changing to
meet the need or fancy of its master. Its humbler kinsman has remained
almost unchanged. Except small differences in size, the donkeys in
different parts of the world are singularly alike. In part this lack of
change may be explained by the relative neglect with which this species
has been treated. From the point of view of the breeder it has perhaps
been the least cared for of any of our completely domesticated animals.
In some parts of the world, as for instance in Spain, where a
long-continued effort has been made to develop the animal for
interbreeding with the horse, the result shows that the form is
relatively inelastic. It is doubtful if any conceivable amount of care
would develop such variations as the horse now exhibits.
The principal hinderances to the general acceptation of the donkey as a
help-meet to man are found in its small size and slow motion. These
qualities make the creature unserviceable in active war or in
agriculture, and they seem to be so fixed in the blood that they are
not to any extent corrigible. So long as pack animals were in general
use, and in those parts of the world where the conditions of culture
cause this method of transportation to be retained, the qualities of
the donkey have proved and are still found of value. The animal can
carry a relatively heavy burden, being in such tasks, for its weight,
more efficient than the horse. It is less liable to stampedes. It
learns a round of duty much more effectively than that creature, and
can subsist by browsing on coarse herbage, where a horse would be so
far weakened as to become useless. Thus, in developing the mines in the
unimproved wilderness of the Cordilleras, where ores of the precious
metals have to be carried for considerable distances, trains of
"burros" are often employed. The animals quickly learn the nature of
their task, and will do their work with but little guidance from man.
In general we may say that the donkeys belong to a vanishing state of
human culture, to the time before carriage-ways existed. Now that
civilization goes on wheels, they seem likely to have an
ever-decreasing value. A century ago they were almost everywhere in
common use. At the present time there are probably millions of people
in the United States to whom the animal is known only by description.
In a word, the creature marks a stage in the development of our
industries which is passing away as rapidly as that in which the
spinning-wheel and the hand-loom played a part.
As the use of the ass in the economic arts began to decline, the mule
or hybrid progeny of this creature and the horse has progressively
increased. Although the value of this mongrel has been known,
particularly in southern Europe, from very early days, its most
extensive employment has been found in the old slave-holding States of
the Federal union. The custom of using mules has been almost unknown in
England, and has never been generally adopted in the northern part of
the United States. It appears to have been introduced into southern
regions by the Spaniards and the French, and there to have spread,
because of the peculiar fitness of the creature to the climate and the
employment it had to endure in that part of America. The mule has the
peculiar advantage that it is on the average as large as the horse, is
nearly as quick-footed when walking, and has at the same time a
considerable share of the patient endurance to hard labor and scant
fare which characterizes the donkeys. It matures somewhat more speedily
than its nobler kinsman, being ready to meet severe strains perhaps a
year earlier. Unless unconscionably abused, its period of fitness for
hard work endures about one-third longer, often lasting for thirty
years. It is singularly exempt from disease, its sturdy frame
withstanding rude usage until the old age time.
[Illustration: In the Circus]
The mule is especially interesting to the naturalist for the reason
that it affords the only certain case in which a hybrid has proved
decidedly serviceable to man. It is not unlikely that a similar mixture
of the blood of two species occurs in our ordinary cats, and it may
exist in the case of the dog and in some of the domestic birds; but so
far as we know, there has been no other useful result from the
hybridizing, if it has occurred. Moreover, the mule is unique for the
fact that the animal is distinctly stronger for its weight, and more
enduring than either species which his blood combines. In fact, there
is no product of man's industry in relation to domesticated animals
which is more interesting than this singular creature. At present, its
use appears to be going out of vogue; the evidence goes to show that
the hybrid has no place in the affections of mankind, and that it is
only likely to be kept in its use in tropical countries, and
particularly in regions where the beasts have to be under the care of
slaves or other negligent folk. It is a singular fact in connection
with this hybrid, that it is nearly absolutely sterile, there being
only two or three cases on record in which they have proved fecund. It
seems, however, possible that if these rare instances of continued
breeding were to be duly used, an intermediate species might be
permanently established. This is, indeed, one of the most important
lines for experiment which could be undertaken by an institution
devoted to the study of problems relating to domestication.
It is commonly thought that a mule is a stupider creature than the
horse; but I have never found a person, who was well acquainted with
both animals, who hesitated to place the mongrel in the intellectual
grade above the pure-blood animal. There is, it is true, a decided
difference in the mental qualities of the two creatures. The mule is
relatively undemonstrative, its emotions being sufficiently expressed
by an occasional bray--a mode of utterance which he has inherited from
the humbler side of his house in a singularly unchanged way. Even in
the best humor it appears sullen, and lacks those playful capers which
give such expression to the well-bred horse, particularly in its
youthful state. It is evident, however, that it discriminates men and
things more clearly than does the horse. In going over difficult ground
it studies its surface, and picks its way so as to secure a footing in
an almost infallible manner. Even when loaded with a pack, it will
consider the incumbrance and not so often try to pass where the burden
will become entangled with fixed objects.
Mules soon learn the difference between those who have the care of them
and strangers. It is a well-known fact that trouble awaits the wight
who unwarily ventures to take from the stall a mule which has not the
advantage of his acquaintance. On this account they are rarely stolen.
Even in the daytime they are often dangerous for strangers to approach,
and the most of the ill-usage which men receive from their heels arises
where unwitting people venture to treat them as they would horses.
Mules are much less liable to panic-fear than the most of our
domesticated animals, yet, when kept in the herded way, they
occasionally become stampeded. Many a soldier of our Civil War, where
mules played a large part in the campaigns, doubtless remembers the mad
outbreaks of these creatures from their corrals, when they went
charging through the army with a fury which, if directed against an
enemy, would have been almost as effective as a cavalry charge.
It is interesting to note that mules have a greater disposition to
adopt a leader in their movements than we note in either of the species
whence they come. In the old days when mules were plentifully bred in
Kentucky, and taken thence for sale to the plantation States, they went
forth in droves, commonly under the leadership of a bell horse, or, by
preference, a mare, which it was quite the custom to choose of a white
color. In the course of a few hours the creatures would learn to know
their guide, and to follow the leader with so little trouble that two
men could conduct a throng of several hundred. Nevertheless, if the
foremost mule of the procession turned aside, all the others would
blindly follow him in the manner of a flock of sheep.
I recall an amusing instance of this "follow-my-leader" motive which
occurred many years ago in a way somewhat personal to myself, in
southern Kentucky. Engaged in survey work, I was passing along a quiet
road when in the distance I heard a thunder of hoofs, and in a moment
saw a great drove of mules, the appointed leader of which, a man on a
white horse, had fallen to the rear of the column. The creatures,
thinking that it was their duty to overtake the missing master, were
going on the full run. Heeding the shouts of the troubled herder, I
turned my wagon across the road, which, being at that point very narrow,
was effectually barricaded by the vehicle. Although the rush was so wild
that the brutes nearly overset my "outfit," they were brought to a full
stop. Unhappily, on one side of the road and one hundred feet or so from
it, there was a comfortably built southern house, with a broad gallery
extending along the front; while in the door of the mansion were some
women who had been attracted by the tumult. No sooner had the mob of
mules been brought to a state of surging quiet, than one of the
creatures jumped the picket fence, and started for the open house-door,
thinking, perhaps, that he would find some peace of life in what
probably seemed to him his accustomed barn. In much less time than it
takes to tell it, a hundred or more mules were on the gallery, the floor
of which gave way beneath their weight; they quickly broke down the
columns which supported the roof, so that the whole structure at once
became a heap of wood and mules. The unhappy proprietor of the drove, in
his consternation, forgot even to swear--an art which I have never known
on any other occasion to pass from a mule-driver; and, sitting on his
white horse, he lifted his hands like an oriental in prayer, and said to
me meekly, "Did you ever in all your life?" I assured him that I had
never, and went my way, leaving him to settle an interesting case of
damages with the owner of the mansion.
In considering the general influence of the horse and its kindred forms
on human culture, we clearly perceive that we are now attaining a time
when the machinery of civilization is to depend in a much less degree
than of old on the help which these creatures give to man. Even fifty
years ago the horse was far more necessary to the work of our kind than
it is at present. Going back a hundred years, we perceive that the
population of the civilized world could not possibly have been
maintained, if by some disease all the horses had been swept away. Such
a calamity in the year 1800 would have led to the depopulation of almost
all the cities of the interior country, famine would have ravaged our
States, and the whole economic system of society would have had to be
reconstructed. Now the greater part of the work which of old had to be
done by horses, can, at a slight increase of cost, be effected by
mechanical engines. Ploughing, except on steep hillsides and in very
stony ground, can be cheaply and effectively done by steam. The same
agent can propel the harvesters and work the threshing machines. Even
farmers who till fields of no great extent find it desirable to do much
of their work by steam-engines, for the reason that fuel is less costly
than horse feed. An interesting instance to show how far mechanical
inventions have taken the place of horsed wagons in the work of
civilized communities was afforded by the horse distemper which swept
over the country in 1872. During the week or more in which this epidemic
was at the worst, the State of Massachusetts was practically unhorsed,
yet the greater part of the necessary business, that required to bring
provisions to the town, was effected by means of the railways. The same
incident shows, however, in another way, how absolutely necessary this
animal is, in certain parts of our work. For the great Boston fire,
which occurred at that time, was doubtless due to the fact that, owing
to the sickness of the horses, an effort was made to drag the engines by
hand-power, with the result that they came upon the ground so slowly as
to give the fire a chance to become an uncontrollable conflagration.
In the present state of our arts there is one great occupation which we
cannot conceive to be carried on without the services of horses. This is
war. It is hardly too much to say that all our highly elaborated
military system has depended for its development, as it does for its
maintenance, on the transportation value of horses. Much has been said
of late as to the use of bicycles as adjuncts to armies, and in a
certain limited way they will doubtless prove serviceable in future
campaigns; but no one who has had any experience of military duty, with
its work across tilled fields and through forests, can imagine a man on
a wheel rendering any very effective service except under peculiar
conditions. Moreover, no ordnance corps can do its appointed work in the
rear of a line of battle without sending its wagons across country and
over ground which no unhorsed vehicle could traverse.
The mark of the old utility of the animal in varied employment is
retained in our use of the term horse-power in measuring the energy of
engines. That gauge of strength of old determined what man could do in
the severest taxes upon the forces at his command. In attaining the
point where, owing to the possession of horses, he could use this
standard, he won a great way beyond the station of his ancestors, who
had but the strength of men at their command. Modern invention, by
giving us heat-engines, has made the way for an advance. In another
century, or even in another generation, the horse may, save for the uses
of war, be confined to the position of a luxury and an ornament.
THE FLOCKS AND HERDS: BEASTS FOR
BURDEN, FOOD, AND RAIMENT
Effect of this Group of Animals on Man.--First Subjugations.--Basis
of Domesticability.--Horned Cattle.--Wool-bearing Animals.--Sheep
and Goats.--Camels: their Limitation.--Elephants: Ancient History;
Distribution; Intelligence; Use in the Arts; Need of True
Domestication.--Pigs: their Peculiar Economic Value; Modern
Varieties; Mental Qualities.--Relation of the Development of
Domesticable Animals to the Time of Man's Appearance on the Earth.
It is not too much to say that the opportunity to go forward on the
paths of culture, at least the chance to advance any considerable
distance beyond the estate of primitive men, depends in a considerable
measure upon what the wilderness may offer in the way of domesticable
beasts of burden. Where such exist we find that the folk who dwell with
them in any land are almost certain to have made great advances. Where
the surrounding nature, however rich, denies this boon, we find that
men, however great their natural abilities may appear to be, exhibit a
retarded development. Thus in North America, where there was no
domesticable beast of burden, the Indians, though an able folk, remain
savages. So, too, in central and southern Africa, where the mammalian
life, though rich, affords no large forms which tolerate captivity, the
people have failed to attain any considerable culture. On the other
hand, in the great continent of the Old World, where the horse, the ass,
the buffalo, the camel, and the elephant existed in the primitive wilds,
men rose swiftly toward the civilized station.
[Illustration: Domesticated Buffaloes in Egypt]
The immediate effect arising from the possession of beasts of burden is
greatly to enlarge the scope and educative value of human labor. A
primitive agriculture, sufficient to provide for the needs of a people,
can be carried on by man's labor alone, though the resulting food-supply
has generally to be supplemented by the chase. Rarely, if ever, are the
products of the soil thus won sufficient in quantity to be made the
basis of any commerce. Such conveyance as is necessary among the people
who are served by their own hands alone, has to be accomplished by boat
transportation or by the backs of men. The immediate effect of using
beasts for burden is the introduction of some kind of plough, which
spares the labor of men in delving the ground, and the use of pack
animals, which, employed in the manner of caravans, greatly promotes the
extension of trade. A great range of secondary influences is found in
the development of the arts of war, by which people who have become
provided with pack or saddle animals are able to prevail over their
savage neighbors, and thus to extend the realm of a nascent
civilization. Yet another influence, arising from the domestication of
large beasts, arises from the fact that these creatures are important
storehouses of food; their flesh spares men the labor of the chase, and
so promotes those regularities of employment which lead men into
civilized ways of life. In fact, by making these creatures captive, men
unintentionally brought themselves out of their ancient savagery. They
were led into systematic and forethoughtful courses, and thus found a
training which they could in no other way have secured.
[Illustration: Cattle of India]
The first and simplest use made of the animals from which man derives
strength appears to have been brought about by the subjugation of wild
cattle--the bulls and buffaloes. Several wild varieties of the bovine
tribe were originally widely disseminated in Europe and Asia, and these
forms must have been frequent objects of chase by the ancient hunters.
Although in their adult state these animals were doubtless originally
intractable, the young were mild-mannered, and, as we can readily
conceive, must often have been led captive to the abodes of the
primitive people. As is common with all gregarious animals which have
long acknowledged the authority of their natural herdsmen, the dominant
males of their tribe, these creatures lent themselves to domestication.
Even the first generation of the captives reared by hand probably showed
a disposition to remain with their masters; and in a few generations
this native impulse might well have been so far developed that the
domestic herd was established, affording perhaps at first only flesh and
hides, and leading the people who made them captives to a nomadic
life--that constant search for fresh fields and pastures new which
characterizes people who are supported by their flocks and herds.
It is a curious fact that the kindred of the buffaloes and bisons
differ exceedingly in the measure of their domesticability. Thus, the
ordinary buffalo of Asia, though a dull brute, is very subjugable,
even in the literal sense, for he makes a tolerable beast for the
plough and bears the yoke with due patience. His African kinsman, on
the other hand, is perhaps the most unconquerable of all the large
wild animals. The late Sir Samuel Baker, in answer to my question as
to what wild form was the most to be feared in combat, unhesitatingly
answered, "The African buffalo, the bulls of which charge home upon
any aggressor with an immediate and determined fury, which often
enables them to kill the hunter after they have been shot through the
brain." Our American bison, though a much milder-spirited beast, seems
also to be essentially undomesticable for the reason that he cannot be
taught to subordinate his desires to the will of man. He can readily
be brought to the point where he will tolerate captivity; but if, when
engaged in ploughing, it occurs to him that he needs water, he will
straightway go in search of it, not in a vicious, but in a perfectly
obdurate manner. This quality of mind appears to be accountable for
the failure of the many experiments which have been made to
domesticate this interesting American form.
The limitations of the domesticating work, the fact that as between
two kindred species the one has been chosen by man and the other left,
indicate the truth--which is generally of much importance--that the
intellectual qualities of animals commonly differ more than their
frames. This is a part of the larger fact that with the advance in
organization the individuality, as regards the whole spiritual field
in persons and species alike, becomes greater. The culmination of the
tendency is seen in man, where, with bodies which do not vary much, we
have an almost infinite range in individual qualities.
This is perhaps a good place in which to make answer to the suggestion
that the domesticability of the animal species is in inverse
proportion to their native courage and independence of mind. The
reader will see how fallacious is this common notion if he will
consider the quality of the supremely domesticated creature, the dog.
There is probably no beast which has a larger share of natural courage
and of independent motive. When not under the control of their
masters, they have perhaps as free a contact with nature as any
creature in the world; the same thing may be said of the elephant,
which, next to the dog, lends himself most obediently to the
requirements of the master. Owing to the power of his huge body and to
the ease with which he wins his food, he is in his native wilds the
least dependent of land animals. Except from the assaults of man, he
has nothing to fear; yet when enslaved he at once surrenders himself
to his captors. In general, it may be said that the true gauge of
domesticability is the sympathetic motive, that strange outgoing
spirit which leads the mind to recognize the life about it and to
accept that life as a part of its own. In other words, the
domesticability of man is due to his willingness to enter into social
relations and rests on the same foundation that supports his
intercourse with the lower animals he has won to his use.
[Illustration: Indian Bullock and Water-Carrier]
It is probable that the first use which was made of beasts of burden,
in ways in which their strength became useful to man, was in packing
the tents and other valuables of their masters as they moved from
place to place. Even to this day in certain parts of the world bulls
and oxen serve for such purposes. In fact the nomadic life, a fashion
of society which is enforced wherever people subsist from their
cattle alone, leads inevitably to such use of the beasts. In the
southern Appalachian district of this country there remain traces of
this service rendered by bulls and oxen. These creatures, provided
with a kind of pack saddle, are occasionally used in conveying the
dried roots of the ginseng, beeswax, feathers, and the peltries which
are gathered by the inhabitants of remote districts, not accessible
to carriages, to the markets of the outer world. All the varieties of
ordinary cattle could be made to serve as burden-carriers, and they
doubtless would be continued to be used for saddle purposes in one
way or another but for the wide use of the horse, a creature very
much better adapted for carrying weight. The cloven foot of the bulls
and buffaloes gives a weakness to the extremities which will quickly
lead to disease in case they are forced to carry heavy loads such
as the horse or ass may safely bear.
[Illustration: Ploughing in Syria]
The help which our bovine servants afford us by the power which they
exert in traction, as in drawing ploughs, sleds, or wagons, appears to
have been first rendered long after their introduction to the ways of
man. The first of these uses in which the drawing strength of these
animals was made serviceable appears to have been in the work of
ploughing. In primitive days and with primitive tools, hand delving
was a sore task. The inventive genius who first contrived to overturn
the earth by means of the forked limb of a tree, shaped in the
semblance of a plough and drawn by oxen, began a great revolution in
the art of agriculture. To this unknown genius we may award a place
among the benefactors of mankind, quite as distinguished as that which
is occupied by the equally unknown inventors of the arts of making fire
or of smelting ores. After the experience with the strength of oxen had
been won from the work of ploughing, it was easy to pass to the other
grades of their employment, where they were made to draw carriages.
Next after the contribution which the kindred of the bulls, have made
by their strength, we must set that which has come from their milk.
Although this substance can be obtained in small quantities from
several other domesticated animals, the species of the genus Bos alone
have yielded it in sufficient quantities greatly to affect the
development of man. It is difficult to measure the importance of the
addition to the diet, both of savage and civilized peoples, which milk
affords. It is a fact well known to physiologists that in its simple
form this substance is a complete food, capable when taken alone of
sustaining life and insuring a full development of the body. It is
indeed a natural contrivance exactly adapted to afford those materials
which are required for the development and restoration of creatures
essentially akin to our own species. Those races which avail themselves
extensively of it in their dietary are the strongest and most enduring
the world has known. The Aryan folk are indeed characteristically
drinkers of milk and users of its products, cheese and butter. It may
well be that their power is in some measure due to this resource.
[Illustration: Winnowing Grain in Egypt]
In our horned cattle man won to domestication creatures which were
admirably suited to promote his advancement from savagery to
civilization. Indeed, the possession of these animals appears to have
been a prime condition of his advancement. With them, however, as with
the camel, there came little in the way of those sympathetic qualities
which have made it possible for our race to establish affectionate
relations with other captive forms. Long intercourse with man has, it
is true, somewhat diminished the wildness of these creatures, though
the males remain the most indomitably ferocious of all our
servants. The truth seems to be that the bovine animals have but
little intellectual capacity, and it has in no wise served the
purposes of man to develop such powers of mind as they have. We have
ever been given to asking little of them, save docility. This we have
in a high measure won with our milch cows, which of all our
domesticated creatures are perhaps the most absolutely submissive; the
more highly developed of them being little more than passive producers
of milk, almost without a trace of instincts or emotions except such
as pertain to reproduction and to feeding. It is a noteworthy fact
that in all the great literature of anecdote concerning our
domesticated animals, there is hardly a trace of stories which tend to
show the existence of sagacity in our common cattle.
It is evident that the variability of our domesticated bovines, as far
as their bodies are concerned, is very great. Between the ancient
aurochs and the more highly cultivated of its descendants, the
difference is as great as that which separates any other of our captive
animals from their wild ancestors. In size, shape, in flesh-and
milk-giving qualities, the departure from the old form of the wilderness
is remarkable. Moreover, at the present time these diverse breeds of
horned cattle are rapidly being multiplied, the distinctive forms
probably being twice as numerous as they were at the beginning of the
present century. The process of selection has led to some very wide
diversifications of the body. The horns, which in the wild state are
invariably well developed, and which in the cattle of our Western plains
attain very great size, have in certain breeds altogether disappeared,
and in their place there sometimes comes a remarkable crest of bony
matter which does not project beyond the skin which covers the head. If
such differences occurred in the wild state, they would be regarded as
separating the two types of animals widely from each other.
[Illustration: Egyptian Sheep]
In treating the wool-bearing animals along with beasts of burden, we
make a somewhat fanciful classification which yet is not quite without
reason. By long training man has brought these species to the state
where their covering of wool or hair, once a coating only sufficient to
afford protection from the weather, has become a very serious load. In
certain of our highly developed varieties the annual coat is so far
increased that the creature loses a large part of its bulk after the
shearer has done his work. Each year's fleece often amounts in weight
to eight to twelve pounds, and in its lifetime the animal may yield a
mass of wool far exceeding its weight of flesh and bones in any time
of its life. When the fleece is mature the animal is often burdened
with a load about as heavy in proportion to his size as is a horse by
the weight of its rider and accoutrements.
As a flesh producer, particularly in sterile fields, sheep are more
valuable than our horned cattle. They mature more rapidly, attaining
their adult size and reproducing their kind in less than two years, so
that in many parts of the world it is possible to obtain a larger
quantity of flesh from poor pasturages with sheep than with any other
of our domesticated animals. Their principal value, however, has been
from the means they afforded whereby men in high latitudes have
obtained warm clothing. Before the domestication of these creatures,
peoples who had to endure the winter of high latitudes were forced to
rely upon hides for covering--a form of clothing which is clumsy,
uncleanly, and which the chase could not supply in any considerable
quantity. Owing to its peculiar structure, the hair of the sheep makes
the strongest and warmest covering, when rendered into cloth, which has
ever been devised for the use of man. The value of this contribution is
directly related to the conditions of climate. In the intertropical
regions the sheep plays no part of importance. In high latitudes it is
of the utmost value to man. No other of our domesticated creatures,
except the camel, is so specially adapted to the needs which
peculiarities of climate impose upon their possessors.
[Illustration: Bedouin Goat-Herd--Palestine]
The relations of the goat to mankind are in certain ways peculiar. The
creature has long been subjugated, probably having come into the human
family before the dawn of history. It has been almost as widely
disseminated, among barbarian and civilized peoples alike, as the
sheep. It readily cleaves to the household, and exhibits much more
intelligence than the other members of our flocks and herds. It yields
good milk, the flesh is edible, though in the old animals not savory,
and the hair can be made to vary in a larger measure than any of our
animals which are shorn. Yet this creature has never obtained the place
in relation to man to which it seems entitled. Only here and there is
it kept in considerable numbers or made the basis of extensive
industries. The reason for this seems to be that these animals cannot
readily be kept in flocks in the manner of sheep. They are only partly
gregarious, and tend to stray from the owner's keeping. There seems
reason also to believe that they cannot easily be made to vary in other
characteristics except their hairy covering at the will of the breeder,
and so varieties cannot be formed, as is the case with sheep, to suit
each peculiarity of soil and climate. Thus in Europe, where it would be
easy to name a score of distinct breeds of sheep, each peculiarly well
suited to the conditions of the country where it had been developed,
the goats are singularly alike. The original stock of these creatures
appears to have been adapted to feeding on the scant herbage which
develops in rocky and mountainous countries. They do not seem able to
make the perfect use of the resources of a pasture which sheep do.
These inherited peculiarities in feeding enable them to pick up a
subsistence where they may range over a considerable territory, even
where it seems to afford no forms of food for the hungriest animal.
Thus in that part of the city of New York known as "Shanty town," goats
may be seen in fairly good condition, although the sole source of food,
besides a few stray weeds, appears to be the paste of the paper
advertisements which they pick from the rocks and fences.
Although goats appear to be characterized by invariable bodies, our
sheep are, in physical characteristics, among the most flexible of our
domesticated animals. They may by selection readily and rapidly be made
to vary as regards the character of their wool, the size and proportion
of their muscles, and the quantity and placing of the fat. In all these
features they may be fairly blown to and fro by the wind of favor.
Between the meagre-bodied merino, with its skeleton-like frame and
heavily wrinkled skin bearing a vast burden of long wool, and the heavy
Hampshire-downs or South-downs, there is really an immense difference in
bodily quality; yet these variations represent only a century or two of
careful experiment on the part of the breeders. It seems not improbable
that in the present state of this developing art it would be possible,
in a hundred years, to reverse the conditions of these two varieties.
Sheep and goats, like the other herbivorous species which are the
common tenants of our fields and forests, belong to the great class of
dull-witted mammals in which the intellectual processes appear to be
almost altogether limited to ancient and simple emotions, such as are
inspired by fear or hunger. They are characterized by little
individuality of mind, and although the needs of men have not led to
any experiment in developing their wits, as in the case of dogs, there
is no reason to believe that they afford much foundation for such
essays. The present rapid variations in the physical characteristics of
our sheep which are induced by the breeder's skill, make it evident
that we are far from having attained the maximum profit from these
creatures. The goats also give promise, when selective work is
carefully done upon them, of giving much more than they now afford to
the uses of mankind; but from neither of these forms is there reason to
hope, at least on our present lines of experiment, for any considerable
gain in the intellectual qualities.
[Illustration: The Great Caravan Road--Central Asia]
We have already noted the fact that the sheep is especially adapted to
serve man in high latitudes, where he has to provide against the
winter's cold. The camel is an even more striking instance in which the
value of the creature depends upon climatal peculiarities. It is
peculiarly fitted, by its ancestral training and development, for the
use of men who dwell in arid countries. In the olden days of the later
Tertiary epoch, creatures akin to the camels appear to have been widely
distributed, and were probably adapted to considerable variations of
environment. Within the time of which we know something by history,
these forms have been limited to the arid districts of southwestern
Asia and northern Africa. It is not certain that we know the originally
wild form of either of the two species, the double-humped or
single-humped camels. Wild members of each exist, but they may be the
descendants of the domesticated forms. It seems probable that long
before the building of the Pyramids the people of the deserts had
learned how to profit from the very peculiar qualities of this
strangely provided beast, which in several distinct ways is singularly
fitted to serve the needs of man in arid lands. The large and
well-padded foot of this creature is well adapted for treading a
surface unsoftened by vegetation. Its peculiar stomach enables it to
store water in such a manner that it can go for days without drink. In
the humps upon its back, as in natural pack-saddles, it may harvest a
share of the nutriment which it obtains from occasional good
pasturages, the store being laid away in the form of fat which may
return to the blood when the creature would otherwise starve. So
important have these peculiarities been found by men who have
domesticated the camel, that on them have rested many of the most
interesting features of race development in the history of our kind. In
the territories along the eastern and southern shores of the
Mediterranean, and in a large part of southern and central Asia, the
camel has done service to man which elsewhere has been performed by
sheep, cattle, and horses. In those parts of the world the share which
these domesticated animals have had in the development of man has been
relatively small. The camel has given the strength for burdens, hair
for clothing, and often flesh to the needy men of the desert.
[Illustration: The Halt in the Desert at Night--The Story Teller]
Although long a captive, and for ages, perhaps, the most serviceable of
all the creatures which man has won from the wilds, the camel is still
only partly domesticated, having never acquired even the small measure
of affection for his master which we find in the other herbivorous
animals which have been won to the service of man. The obedience which
he renders is but a dull submission to inevitable toil. The
intelligence which he shows is very limited, and, so far as I can judge
from the accounts of those who have observed him, there is but little
variation in his mental qualities. As a whole, the creature appears to
be innately the dullest and least improvable of all our servitors.
The fact is, this animal belongs to an ancient and lowly type of
mammals characterized by relatively small brains, and therefore of weak
intelligence; but, for its singular serviceableness in drought-ridden
countries, it would probably have been hunted off the earth by the
early men, as have been many other remnants of the ancient life.
[Illustration: Camels Feeding]
It is somewhat characteristic of the older forms of animals, those
which took shape in the earlier Tertiary periods, that they are less
variable than those which acquired their characteristics in times
nearer our own. It is a fact well known to the students of
paleontology, that species and genera which have been long on the
earth are apt to become in a way rigid as regards their qualities of
body and mind. It is an interesting fact that, although the camel can
readily be transplanted to many other parts of the world, where the
physiographic conditions are similar to those of the realm where he has
served man so well, he has never been thoroughly successful except in
the regions where he has been in use for ages. In the desert regions of
the Cordilleras of America, in South Africa, and in Australia, various
experiments go to show that the creature could be perfectly reconciled
to its environment. Many years ago a lot of camels were brought to the
valley of the Rio Grande with a view to their utilization in that
region, which closely resembles the desert countries about the
Mediterranean. These animals were thoroughly successful in meeting the
climatal conditions of the region. They proved as strong and as fertile
as in their natural realms. Although it is said they survive to the
present day, they have never been of any service to the people.
[Illustration: Carrying the Sugar Cane in Harvest--Egypt]
Although, as before noted, the camel has a certain value for other
purposes than conveying burdens, these subsidiary uses are so far
limited that the creature is not likely to retain a place in the world
after his service in caravans is no longer called for. The rapid
recivilization of northern Africa, leading as it does to the development
of a railway system in that region, promises to displace this creature
from his most trodden ways. It seems likely that the other portions of
the desert lands in the old world will soon be brought under the same
civilizing influences, the nomadic tribes reduced to a stationary habit
of life, and the commerce effected in the modern manner. When this
change is brought about, this old-time animal, which but for the care of
man would have probably long since passed away, will be likely, save
so far as it may be preserved through motives of scientific interest, to
join the great array of vanished species.
[Illustration: Camels along the Sea at Twilight]
It affords a pleasant contrast to turn from the consideration of the
camels to a study of the elephants. The difference in the measure of
attractiveness of the two forms is very great, and depends upon facts of
remarkable interest. Unlike the camel--which, as we have seen, is the
last survivor of an ancient lineage, represented by but two species, and
these limited to a small part of the world--the elephant, at the time
when man appears to have taken shape, seems to have existed on all the
continental lands except Australia, and to have been in a state of
singular prosperity. As is often the case with other vigorous genera of
mammals, the species were adapted to a very great variety of climates,
and were fitted to endure tropic heat as well as arctic cold.
The group of elephants is first known to us in the early part of
Tertiary time. From its first appearance on our stage it seems to have
been successful in a high measure, and this probably by reason of its
possession of the remarkable invention of the trunk--a prolonged and
marvellously flexible nose which serves in the manner of an arm and
hand for gathering food.
When we first find traces of mankind in the records of the rocks, in
what appears to be an age just anterior to the Glacial epoch, the
elephant had passed the experimental stages of its development and
was firmly established as the king of beasts. In his adult form he
had nothing to fear from any of the lower animals, and by the
organization of herds it is probable that even the young were
tolerably safe from assault. Until the early races of men had attained
a considerable skill in the use of weapons, the great beasts were
probably safe from human attack. We may well believe that primitive
savages shunned them as unconquerable. As early, perhaps, as the
closing stages of the Glacial epoch in Europe, we find evidences which
pretty clearly show that the folk of that land, probably belonging to
some race other than our own, had attained a state of the warlike arts
in which they could venture to hunt this creature.
The species of elephant which was hunted by the early men of Europe,
and perhaps also by those in Asia and America as well, was a greater
and, at least in appearance, a more formidable monster than the living
species of Asia or Africa. He was on the average taller and probably
bulkier than any of his living kindred. The tusks were large and
curved in a curious scimitar form. Adding to the might of its aspect
was a vast covering of hair, which on the neck appears to have had the
form of a mane. This covering must have greatly increased the
apparent size of the creature, which no doubt appeared about twice as
large as any of our modern elephants which are nearly hairless.
Although the perils of this ancient chase must have been great, the
triumphs were equally so, and to a people who lived by hunting, most
profitable; a single animal would furnish more food than scores of
the lesser beasts such as the reindeer.
It seems probable that the ancient northern elephant continued in
existence in North America down to the time when this continent was
inhabited by man. It can hardly be doubted that the very ancient human
beings, whose remains are preserved to us beneath the lava streams of
California, dwelt on the continent along with the mammoth. In
excavations which I have made at Big Bone Lick in Kentucky, where a
group of saline springs emerges at the bottom of a valley, there were
disclosed a very great number of skeletons of this great elephant,
commingled with the bones of one or two smaller forms of the related
genus, the mastodon. At a slightly higher level was the multitude of
remains belonging to an extinct species of bison which came just before
our so-called buffalo, while near the surface of the ground was found
the waste of the creatures which were in the field when it was first
seen by the white men. A very careful search failed to reveal any trace
of man until the uppermost level was attained. The facts, which cannot
well be discussed here, have led me to the conclusion that only a few
thousand years can have elapsed since the mammoth and the mastodon
plentifully abounded in North America; but I am forced to doubt whether
our savages were here in time to make acquaintance with these animals.
It is not certain that the extermination of the great northern
elephant or mammoth even in the Old World came about through the
action of man. It is possible that the death was due to more natural
causes, such as the change of climate which attended the decline of
the Glacial period, or to the attacks of some insect enemy like the
tsetze fly of South Africa, which occasionally brings destruction to
cattle in that part of the world. On the whole, however, it seems
most probable that the extermination of this noble beast is to be
accounted among the brutal triumphs of mankind, perhaps as the first
of the long tale of destructions which he has inflicted upon his
fellow-creatures. However this may be, it is clear that at the dawn
of civilization the species of the genus elephas had become limited
to that part of the African continent which lies south of the Sahara,
and to the portion of Asia east of the Persian Gulf and south of
China. The remnant consisted of two species: the African form, on the
average the larger of the two, a fierce and scarcely domesticable
creature; and the Asiatic, a milder-natured species which alone has
been to any extent brought into the service of man.
It is not certain when or where elephants were first reduced to
domestication. In the dawn of history we find them used to enhance the
state of princes and for the purposes of war. It seems possible that
in this early day the African as well as the Asiatic species was
tamed, at least to the point where they could be made to serve in
battle. We can hardly believe that all these animals which were at the
command of Hannibal and the other generals of North Africa, came from
the Asiatic realm. The fact that in modern times the species which
dwells south of the Sahara has not been turned to the uses of man, may
be accounted for by the lowly estate of the native people in that part
of the world, and the lack of need for such creatures in the economic
conditions of the Aryan folk who have settled along the shores and in
the southern part of that continent.
The relations of man to the elephant are more peculiar than those which
he has formed with any other domesticated animal. Although the creature
will breed in captivity, its reproduction in that state is exceptional,
and it is many years before the offspring are fit for any service. It
is indeed about thirty years before the creature is sufficiently adult
to attain a good measure of strength and endurance. It has therefore
been the habit of the people who avail themselves of this admirable
beast to use the captures which they make in the wilderness. It is a
most interesting and exceptional fact that these captive elephants,
though bred in perfect freedom and provided with none of those
inherited instincts so essentially a part of the value of our other
domesticated quadrupeds, become helpful to man and attached to him in a
way which is characteristic of none other of our ancient companions
except the dog. It is safe to say that the Asiatic elephant is the most
innately domesticable, and the best fitted by nature for companionship
with man, of all our great quadrupeds. The qualities of mind which in
our other domesticated quadrupeds have been slowly developed by
thousands of years of selection and intercourse with our kind, are in
this creature a part of its wild estate.
It appears from trustworthy anecdotes that the Asiatic elephants in a
few months of captivity acquire the rules of conduct which it is
necessary to impose upon them. The speediness of this intellectual
subjugation may be judged from the fact that, after a short term of
domestication, they will take a willing and intelligent part in
capturing their kindred of the wilderness, showing in this work little
or no disposition to rejoin the wild herds. In the case of no other
animal do we find anything like such an immediate adhesion to the ways
of civilization. We have to account for this eminent peculiarity of the
elephant on the supposition, which appears to be thoroughly justified,
that the creature has, even in its wild state, a type of intelligence
and instincts more nearly like those of men than is the case with any
other wild mammal, an affinity with human quality which is, perhaps,
only approached by certain species of birds. It appears from the
observations of naturalists that the family or tribe of wild elephants
is a distinct and highly sympathetic community. The grade and value of
the friendly feeling which prevails among them may be judged by the
fact that, when one of the males becomes lost or is driven away from
its associates, it does not seem to be able to join any other tribe,
but becomes a "rogue," or solitary individual, and in this state
develops a morose and furious temper.
There are many well-attested stories which serve to show that wild
elephants have a kind of intelligence which indicates a certain
constructive capacity. Of these, perhaps the best are the instances in
which the creatures have been caught in pitfalls, made by digging a
hole in the paths of the wilderness which they are accustomed to
follow, the surface being covered with a frail platform so arranged as
to conceal the excavation. When one of a tribe is caught in the trap,
the others, if time allows before the hunters come to the ground, will
in an ingenious way release him. I doubt if the most practicable
manner of effecting this will occur at once to the reader. The easiest
plan may seem to drag the captive from the pit by sheer strength, but
as the hole is deep and has vertical sides, the elephants contrive a
better way. They bring bits of timber, which they throw into the
pitfall, the captive treads them down until he is elevated to a
position whence he can escape from his prison.
The intelligence of the wild elephant is probably in good part to be
accounted for by the fact that the creature possesses in its trunk an
instrument which is admirably contrived to execute the behests of an
intelligent will. It is easy for us to see how, in the case of man, the
hands have served to develop the intelligence by providing him with
means whereby he could do a great variety of things which demanded
thought and afforded education. The elephant is the only large mammal
which has ever acquired a serviceable addition to the body such as the
trunk affords. In their ordinary life the trunk does almost as varied
work as the human arm. With it they can express emotions in a remarkable
way; they caress their young, gather their food by a great variety of
movements, or defend themselves from assailants. To the naturalist who
has come to perceive the close relations between bodily structure and
mental endowments, it is not surprising to find that these creatures
have attained a quality of mind which is found nowhere else among the
mammals except in man and in some of his kindred, the apes.
The most peculiar mental quality of the elephant, a feature which
separates him even from the dog, is the rational way in which he will
do certain kinds of mechanical work. He appears to have an immediate
sense as to the effects of his actions, which we find elsewhere only
among human beings. From a great body of well-attested observations,
showing what may be called the logical quality of the mind of these
creatures, I may be allowed to select a few stories which have a
singular denotative value. An acquaintance of mine, a British officer
who had served long in India, told me that in taking artillery over
very difficult roads, certain of the abler elephants could be trusted
to walk behind each piece, where they would in a fashion control its
movements, steadying or lifting it as the occasion demanded without
any directions from the driver.
[Illustration: An Indian Elephant]
Elephants can be trained to pile up sticks of timber, such as railway
ties, placing the layers alternately in opposite directions, as is the
custom in such work. There is an excellent and well-attested story of
an elephant who, without a driver, was bearing a stick of timber
through a narrow wood path. Meeting a man on horseback, and
perceiving that the way was not wide enough for both himself and the
oncomer, the sagacious animal deliberately backed his huge body into
the chaparral so as to clear the way, and then trumpeted as if to
signal the horseman that the path was free.
The emotions as well as the intelligence of elephants are singularly
like those of human kind. It is said by those who know them well that
if when in their stubborn fits they are brutally overborne, they are
apt to die of what seems to be pure chagrin. Their states of grief,
despair, and rage much resemble those which are exhibited by violent
children or men unaccustomed to control. Their affections and
animosities have also a curious human cast. They readily form
attachments which appear to be quite as enduring as those exhibited by
dogs, and their memory of injuries remains quick for years after they
have received the harm. Well-verified anecdotes showing the likeness
of these emotional qualities to our own exist in such numbers that it
would be easy to fill a volume with them. They are, however, not
necessary to show the likeness of the creature to ourselves. This is
sufficiently exhibited by their daily behavior under domestication. In
noting this we should remember that the male elephant is the only
large mammal the males of which it has proved safe to use in the
ordinary work of life. Even our bulls and stallions, though they
belong to species which have been domesticated for thousands of years,
are so violent and untrustworthy as to be of little value except for
breeding purposes. Bulls, even of the tamer breeds, are a constant
menace to the lives of their masters; yet an adult male elephant
recently made captive may, except when seriously diseased, be trusted
to obey the mere signals of the driver, who has no such control over
him as the bit affords in the case of horses. The creature has the
strength to overcome all control save that of a moral nature. To this
he submits in a way which is only equalled by our well-bred dogs.
As yet the utility of the elephant to man has, measured by his
qualities, been but small. The creature has a marvellous strength,
great intelligence, and remarkable docility. In proportion to the
power which he can apply to a task, he is not an expensive animal to
maintain. He can endure a considerable range of climate, and enjoys a
tolerable immunity from disease. The reason for the relatively
inconsiderable use of these creatures is probably to be found in the
fact that they are not adapted for ordinary draught purposes, nor are
they well suited to the needs of the caravan, for which the camel or
the pack-mule is much better fitted. In ancient warfare, before the
invention of gunpowder, elephants carrying archers or javelin-men upon
their backs were greatly valued for the effect of their charge against
an enemy and for the fright with which they inspired horses. Against
the unsteady ranks of Oriental armies they were often most efficient
in breaking a line of battle. Even the Roman troops, when they first
encountered them and before they knew how to meet their charges, found
them very formidable. It was soon learned that if their onset was
stoutly resisted, they were likely to become unmanageable in the
uproar of the fight, and to do as much damage to friends as to foes.
It is only in certain peculiar tasks that, in modern days, the
elephants have any economic value, and in the most of this work their
strength is likely to be replaced by various engines.
The two existing species of elephants are, as before remarked, the
survivors of a long lineage, represented in the geological record by
the remains of many extinct forms. Some of these lost species were far
smaller than those of to-day; one at least was no larger than our
heavier horses. If by the breeder's art the existing varieties could be
caused so to change as to give us once again this relatively diminutive
form, the creature would be sure to find a place of importance in our
ordinary arts. The trouble is that the very long life of this animal is
naturally associated with a slow growth. It requires indeed almost the
lifetime of a generation to bring the individual to an adult age. It is
therefore not surprising that, as the wild forms can readily be won to
domestication, these creatures have not been the subject of any of those
interesting processes of selection which have so far affected for the
better the characteristics of nearly all the other domesticated animals.
In every other regard than those mentioned above, the elephant appears
to be an excellent subject for improvement by choice in breeding. The
individuals vary much as regards their physical and mental qualities.
Probably no other wild mammal exhibits such differences in the mental
features as does this highly intellectual creature. The physical
individuality does not seem to be as striking as the mental, but even
here we note a range, at least as regards size, which is unusual in the
wild forms bred under similar conditions. The general elasticity of the
group is shown by the considerable differences which may be traced in
the herds which occupy different parts of the field over which the
species range. As yet these local peculiarities have not been carefully
studied; but from an examination of the tusks in the ivory warehouse at
the docks in London, I have found that those shipped from particular
ports in Africa and Asia differed both in form and texture, so that
the experts were able to tell from which district they came. The
evidence, in a word, appears to show that the creature tends to vary;
and it is a safe presumption that the forms would prove as responsive
to the breeder's art as those of our horses, cattle, sheep, or dogs.
As a whole, the elephant has been almost as little associated with the
life of our own race as the camel. Neither of these creatures has ever
played any considerable part in European affairs. From the
disappearance of the last of the mammoths in the closing stages of the
Glacial time until the invasions of Italy by Pyrrhus and by Hannibal,
elephants were practically unknown in Western Europe. They have never
been used in peaceful occupations on that continent, and have had only
a trifling place in its military arts. It was probably due to this
separation of our eminently experimental race from the realm of the
elephants that no efforts have been made systematically to breed them
in captivity, and thus to win varieties in which the form might become
better adapted to economic needs, and the remarkable mental powers of
the creature be brought to their utmost development. As yet the only
Europeans who have had much to do with elephants are the British, who
in their civil and military service in India have been thrown in
contact with these animals. Generally, however, these people have been
only temporarily domiciled in Asia, and probably on this account have
not become interested in the problems which this noble beast presents
to all those who appreciate the animal world. We lack, indeed, the
observations which might have been made with admirable effect by
British observers in India during the two centuries in which that
people has had to do with the lands in which elephants abound.
The elephant of Africa is still a tolerably abundant animal. Its
numbers, though doubtless diminished by more than one-half within this
century, are probably to be counted by the hundred thousand.
Nevertheless, in less than a hundred years the field which they occupied
has been greatly reduced; and between the ivory hunter and the sportsman
of our brutal race armed with guns of ever-increasing deadliness, it
will certainly not require another century of free shooting to
annihilate the African species. In view of the present condition of the
life of these noble beasts, it seems in a high measure desirable that a
thorough-going effort should be made to extend the domestication to the
point where the form will not only be won from the wilds, but will be a
permanent element in our civilization, in the manner of our common
flocks and herds. It will be an enduring shame if, by neglect of our
opportunities, the utmost is not done to attain this end. It appears fit
that this task should be undertaken by the British Government, which in
modern days has displayed a skill and forethought in the administration
of its Indian provinces unexampled in the history of colonies. Owing to
the slow breeding-rate of the elephant, it may require more than a
century for experiments to attain any definite result, so that the task
is clearly beyond the limits of individual endeavor.
Among the humbler helpers of man, the pig holds an important place. He
has had no small share in the betterment of the estate of his masters.
One of the large questions which beset men in their unconscious
endeavors to lay the foundations of civilization was that of
food-supply. No sooner does a population become sedentary than the
wildernesses about its dwelling-place are rapidly cleared of the large
game, so that the chase affords but little save amusement. Therefore a
provision in the way of meat has to be obtained from domesticated
animals. The flocks and herds supply this need, though in a costly way.
Sheep have a value for their wool; horned cattle develop slowly, and
are, moreover valuable, the oxen for their strength and the cows for
their milk. Horses are too valuable to be used for food, save in times
of exceeding stress; and none but the lowest savages are willing to send
their faithful dogs to the pot. From the beginning of his experience
with man the pig has been found the cheapest and most serviceable
domesticated animal as a source of food-supply.
We can trace the origin of our domestic
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