The Minds and Manners of Wild Animals Part 8

And that exhibition of monkey torture in a monkey h.e.l.l continues in summer throughout many states of our country,--because "it pleases the children!" The use of monkeys with hand-organs is a cruel outrage upon the monkey tribe, and no civilized state or munic.i.p.ality should tolerate it. I call upon all humane persons to put an end to it.

As an antidote to our vaulting human egotism, we should think often upon the closeness of mental contact between the highest animals and the lowest men. In drawing a parallel between those two groups, there are no single factors more valuable than the home, and the family food supply. These hark back to the most primitive instincts of the vertebrates. They are the bedrock foundations upon which every species rests. As they are stable or unstable, good or bad, so lives or dies the individual, and the species also.

In employing the term "highest animals" I wish to be understood as referring to the warm-blooded vertebrates, and not merely the apes and monkeys that both structurally and mentally are nearest to man.

Throughout my lifetime I have been by turns amazed, entertained and instructed by the marvelous intelligence and mechanical skill of small mammals in constructing burrows, and of certain birds in the construction of their nests. Today the hanging nest of the Baltimore oriole is to me an even greater wonder than it was when I first saw one over sixty years ago. Even today the mechanical skill involved in its construction is beyond my comprehension. My dull brain can not figure out the processes by which the bird begins to weave its hanging purse at the tip end of the most unstable of all earthly building sites,--a down-hanging elm-tree branch that is swayed to and fro by every pa.s.sing breeze. The situation is so "impossible" that thus far no moving picture artist has ever caught and recorded the process.

Take in your hand a standard oriole nest, and examine it thoroughly. First you will note that it is very strong, and thoroughly durable. It can stand the lashings of the fiercest gales that visit our storm-beaten sh.o.r.e.

How long would it take a man to unravel that nest, wisp by wisp, and resolve it into a loose pile of materials? Certainly not less than an entire day. Do you think that even your skilful fingers,-- una.s.sisted by needles,--could in two days, or in three, weave of those same materials a nest like that, that would function as did the original? I doubt it. The materials consist of long strips of the thin inner bark of trees, short strings, and tiny gra.s.s stems that are long, pliable and tough. Who taught the oriole how to find and to weave those rare and hard-to-find materials? And how did it manage all that weaving with its beak only? Let the wise ones answer, if they can; for I confess that I can not!

Down in Venezuela, in the delta of the Orinoco River, and elsewhere, lives a black and yellow bird called the giant cacique (p.r.o.nounced cay-seek'), which as a nest-builder far surpa.s.ses our oriole. Often the cacique's hanging nest is from four to six feet long. The oriole builds to escape the red squirrels, but the cacique has to reckon with the prehensile-tailed monkeys.

Sometimes a dozen caciques will hang their nests in close proximity to a wasps' nest, as if for additional protection. A cacique's nest hangs like a gra.s.s rope, with a commodious purse at its lower end, entered by a narrow perpendicular slit a foot or so above the terminal facilities. It is impossible to achieve one of these nests without either shooting off the limb to which it hangs, or felling the tree. If it hangs low enough a charge of coa.r.s.e shot usually will cut the limb, but if high, cutting it down with a rifle bullet is a more serious matter.

[Ill.u.s.tration with caption: HANGING NEST OF THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE (From the "American Natural History")]

[Ill.u.s.tration with caption: GREAT HANGING NESTS OF THE CRESTED CACIQUE As seen in the delta of the Orinoco Rover, Venezuela.]

To our Zoological Park visitors the African weaver birds are a wonder and a delight. Orioles and caciques do not build nests in captivity, but the weavers blithely transfer their activities to their s.p.a.cious cage in our tropical-bird house. The bird-men keep them supplied with raffia gra.s.s, and they do the rest. Fortunately for us, they weave nests for fun, and work at it all the year round! Millions of visitors have watched them doing it. To facilitate their work the upper half of their cage is judiciously supplied with tree-branches of the proper size and architectural slant. The weaving covers many horizontal branches. Sometimes a group of nests will be tied together in a structure four feet long; and it branches up, or down, or across, seemingly without rhyme or reason.

Some of the weavers, which inhabit Africa, Malayana and Australia, are "communal" nest-builders. They build colonies of nests, close together. Imagine twenty-five or more Baltimore orioles ma.s.sing their nests together on one side of a single tree, in a genuine village. That is the habit of some of the weaver birds;--and this brings us to what is called the most wonderful of all manifestations of house-building intelligence among birds. It is the community house of the little sociable weaver-bird of South Africa (_Philetoerus socius_). Having missed seeing the work of this species save in museums, I will quote from the Royal Natural History, written by the late Dr. Richard Lydekker, an excellent description: --This species congregates in large flocks, many pairs incubating their eggs under the same roof, which is composed of cartloads of gra.s.s piled on a branch of some camel- thorn tree in one enormous ma.s.s of an irregular umbrella shape, looking like a miniature haystack and almost solid, but with the under surface (which is nearly flat) honeycombed all over with little cavities, which serve not only as places for incubation, but also as a refuge against rain and wind.

"They are constantly being repaired by their active little inhabitants. It is curious that even the initiated eye is constantly being deceived by these dome-topped structures, since at a distance they closely resemble native huts. The nesting- chambers themselves are warmly lined with feathers."

Here must we abruptly end our exhibits of the intelligence of a few humble little birds as fairly representative of the wonderful mental ability and mechanical skill so common in the ranks of the birds of the world. It would be quite easy to write a volume on The Architectural Skill of Birds!

Now, let us look for a moment into the house-building intelligence and skill of some of the lower tribes of men. Out of the mult.i.tude of exhibits available I will limit myself to three, widely separated. In the first place, the habitations of the savage and barbaric tribes are usually the direct result of their own mental and moral deficiencies. The Eskimo is an exception, because his home and its location are dictated by the hard and fierce circ.u.mstances which dictate to him what he must do. Often he is compelled to move as his food supply moves. The Cliff-Dweller Indian of the arid regions of the Southwest was forced to cliff- dwell, in order to stave off extermination by his enemies. Under that spur he became a wonderful architect and engineer.

For present purposes we are concerned with three savage tribes which might have been rich and prosperous agriculturists or herdsmen had they developed sufficient intelligence to see the wisdom of regular industry.

Consider first the lowest of three primitive tribes that inhabit the extreme southern point of Patagonia, whose real estate holdings front on the Strait of Magellan. That region is treeless, rocky, windswept, cold and inhospitable. I can not imagine a place better fitted for an anarchist penal colony. North of it lie plains less rigorous, and by degrees less sterile, and finally there are lands quite habitable by cattle-and-crop-growing men.

But those three tribes elect to stick to the worst spot in South America. The most primitive is the tribe of "canoe Indians" of Tierra del Fuego, which probably represents the lowest rung of the human ladder. Beside them the cave men of 30,000 years ago were kings and princes. Their only rivals seem to be the Poonans of Central Borneo, who, living in a hot country, make no houses or shelters of any kind, and have no clothing but a long strip of bark cloth around the loins.

The Fuegians have long been known to mariners and travellers. They inhabit a region that half the year is bleak, cold and raw, but they make nothing save the rudest of the rude in canoes--of rough slabs tied together and caulked _with moss,_--and rough bone- pointed spears, bows, arrows and paddles. Their only clothing consists of skins of the guanacos loosely hung from the neck, and flapping over the naked and repulsive body. They make no houses, and on sh.o.r.e their only shelters from the wind and snow and chilling rains are rabbit-like forms of brush, broken off by hand.

These people are lower in the scale of intelligence than any wild animal species known to me; for they are mentally too dull and low to maintain themselves on a continuing basis. Their hundred years of contact with man has taught them little; and numerically they are decreasing so rapidly that the world will soon see the absolute finish of the tribe.

In the best of the three tribes, the Tchuelclus, the birth rate is so low that within recent times the tribe has diminished from about 5,000 to a remnant of about 500.

Now, have those primitive creatures "immortal souls?" Are they ent.i.tled to call chimpanzees, elephants, bears and dogs "lower animals?" Do they "think," or "reason," any more than the animals I have named?

It is a far cry from the highest to the lowest of the human race; and we hold that the highest animals intellectually are higher than the lowest men.

Now go with me for a moment to the lofty and dense tropical forest in the heart of the Territory of Selangor, in the Malay Peninsula.

That forest is the home of the wild elephant, rhinoceros and sladang. And there dwells a jungle tribe called the Jackoons, some members of which I met at their family home, and observed literally in their own ancestral tree. Their house was not wholly bad, but it might have been 100 per cent better. It was merely a platform of small poles, placed like a glorified bird's nest in the spreading forks of a many-branched tree, about twenty feet from the ground. The main supports were bark-lashed to the large branches of the family tree. Over this there was a rude roof of long gra.s.s, which had a fairly intelligent slope. As a shelter from rain, the Jackoon house left much to be desired. The scanty loin cloths of the habitants knew no such thing as wash-day or line. With all its drawbacks, however, this habitation was far more adequate to the needs of its builders than the cold brush rabbit-forms of the Patagonian canoe Indians.

We now come to a tribe which has reduced the problem of housing and home life to its lowest common denominator. The Poonans of Central Borneo, discovered and described by Carl Bock, build _no houses of any kind,_ not even huts of green branches; and their only overture toward the promotion of personal comfort in the home is a five-foot gra.s.s mat spread upon the sodden earth, to lie upon when at rest. And this, in a country where in the so-called "dry season" it rains half the time, and in the "wet season" all the time.

The Poonans have rudely-made spears for taking the wild pig, deer and smaller game, their clothes consist of bark cloth, around the loins only. They know no such thing as agriculture, and they live off the jungle.

It was said some years ago that a similarly primitive jungle tribe of Ceylon, known as the Veddahs, could count no more than five, that they could not comprehend "day after to-morrow," and that their vocabulary was limited to about 200 words.

It is very probable that the language of the Poonans and the Jackoons is equally limited. And what are we to conclude from all the foregoing? Briefly, I should say that the architectural skill of the orioles, the caciques and the weaver birds is greater than that of the South Patagonia native, the Jackoon and the Poonan. I should say that those bird homes yield to their makers more comfort and protection, and a better birth-rate, than are yielded by the homes of those ignorant, unambitious and retrogressive tribes of men now living and thinking, and supposed to be possessed of reasoning powers. If the whole truth could be known, I believe it would be found that the stock of ideas possessed and used by the groups of highly-endowed birds would fully equal the ideas of such tribes of simple-minded men as those mentioned. If caught young, those savages could be trained by civilized men, and taught to perform many tricks, but so can chimpanzees and elephants.

Curiously enough, it is a common thing for even the higher types of civilized men to make in home-building just as serious mistakes as are made by wild animals and savages. For example, among the men of our time it is a common mistake to build in the wrong place, to build entirely too large or too ugly, and to build a Colossal Burden instead of a real Home. From many a palace there stands forth the perpetual question: "_Why_ did he do it?"

Any reader who at any time inclines toward an opinion that the author is unduly severe on the mentality of the human race, even as it exists today in the United States, is urged to read in the _Scientific Monthly_ for January, 1922, an article by Professor L. M. Tennan ent.i.tled "Adventures in Stupidity.--A Partial a.n.a.lysis of the Intellectual Inferiority of a College Student." He should particularly note the percentages on page 34 in the second paragraph under the subt.i.tle "The Psychology of Stupidity."

VIII

THE MENTAL STATUS OF THE ORANG-UTAN

My first ownership of a live orang-utan began in 1878, in the middle of the Simujan River, Borneo, where for four Spanish dollars I became the proud possessor of a three-year old male. No sooner was the struggling animal deposited in the bottom of my own boat than it savagely seized the calf of my devoted leg and endeavored to bite therefrom a generous cross section. My leggings and my leech stockings saved my life. That implacable little beast never gave up; and two days later it died,--apparently to spite me.

My next orang was a complete reverse of No. 1. He liked not the Dyaks who brought him to me, but in the first moment of our acquaintance he adopted me as his foster-father, and loved me like a son. Throughout four months of jungle vicissitudes he stuck to me. He was a high-cla.s.s orang,--and be it known that many orangs are thin-headed scrubs, who never amount to anything. His skull was wide, his face was broad, and he had a dome of thought like a statesman. He had a fine mind, and I am sure I could have taught him everything that any ape could learn.

During the four months that he lived with me I taught him, almost without effort, many things that were necessary in our daily life.

Even the Dyaks recognized the fact that the "Old Man" was an orang (or "mias") of superior mind, and some of them traveled far to see him. Unfortunately the exigencies of travel and work compelled me to present him to an admiring friend in India. Mr. Andrew Carnegie and his then partner, Mr. J. W. Vandevorst, convoyed my Old Man and another small orang from Singapore to Colombo, Ceylon, whence they were shipped on to Madras, received there by my old friend A.

G. R. Theobald,--and presented at the court of the Duke of Buckingham.

Up to a comparatively recent date, the studies of the psychologists that have been devoted to the minds of animals below man, have been chiefly concerned with low and common types.

Comparatively few investigators have found it possible to make extensive and prolonged observations of the most intelligent wild animals of the world, even in zoological gardens, and their observations on wild animals in a state of nature seem to have been even more circ.u.mscribed. I know only three who have studied any of the great apes.

In attempting to fathom the mental capacity and the mental processes of some of the highest mammals, there is the same superior degree of interest attaching to the study of wild species that the ethnologist finds in the study of savage races of men that have been unspoiled by civilization. Obviously, it is more interesting to fathom the mind of a creature in an absolute state of nature than of one whose ancestors have been bred and reared in the trammels of domestication and for many successive generations have bowed to the will of man. The natural fury of the Atlantic walrus, when attacked, is much more interesting as a psychologic study than is the inbred rage of the bull-dog; and the remarkable defensive tactics of the musk-ox far surpa.s.s in interest the vagaries of range cattle.

For several reasons, the great apes, and particularly the chimpanzees and orang-utans, are the most interesting subjects for psychologic study of all the wild-animal species with which the writer is acquainted. Primarily this is due to the fact that intellectually and temperamentally, as well as anatomically, these animals stand very near to man himself, and closely resemble him. The great apes mentioned can give visible expression to a wide range of thoughts and emotions,

The voice of the adult orang-utan is almost absent, and only sufficient to display on rare occasions. What little there is of it, in animals over six years of age, is very deep and guttural, and may best be described as a deep-ba.s.s roar. Under excitement the orang can produce a roar by inhalation. Young orangs under two years of age often whine, or shriek or scream with anger, like excited human children, but with their larger growth that vocal power seems to leave them.

Despite the difference in temperament and quickness in delivery, I regard the measure of the orang-utan's mental capacity as being equal to that of the chimpanzee; but the latter is, and always will remain, the more alert and showy animal. The superior feet of the chimpanzee in bipedal work is for that species a great advantage, and the longer toes of the orang are a handicap.

Although the orang's sanguine temperament is far more comforting to a trainer than the harum-scarum nervous vivacity of the chimpanzee, the value of the former is overbalanced, on the stage, by the superior acting of the chimp. For these reasons the trainers generally choose the chimp for stage education.

The chimpanzee is not only nervous and quick in thought and in action, but it is equally so _in temper._ It will play with any good friend to almost any extent, but the moment it suspects malicious unfairness, or what it regards as a "mean trick," it instantly becomes angry and resentful. Once when I attempted to take from our large black-faced chimpanzee, called Soko, a small lump of rubber which I feared she might swallow, my efforts were kindly but firmly thwarted. At last, when I diverted her by small offerings of chocolate, and at the right moment sought by a strategic movement to s.n.a.t.c.h the rubber from her, the palpable unfairness of the attempt caused the animal instantly to fly into a towering pa.s.sion, and seek to wreak vengeance upon me. Her lips drew far back in a savage snarl, and she denounced my perfidy by piercing cries of rage and indignation. She also did her utmost to seize and drag me forcibly within reach of her teeth, for the punishment which she felt that I deserved.

A large male orang-utan named Dohong, under a similar test, revealed a very different mental att.i.tude. He dexterously s.n.a.t.c.hed a valuable watch-charm from a visitor who stood inside the railing of his cage, and fled with it to the top of his balcony. As quickly as possible I thrust my handkerchief between the bars, and waved it vigorously, to attract him. At once the animal came down to me, to secure another trophy, and before he realized his position I successfully s.n.a.t.c.hed the charm from him, and restored it unharmed to its owner. Dohong seemed to regard the episode as a good joke. Without manifesting any resentment he turned a somersault on his straw, then climbed upon his trapeze and began to perform, as if nothing in particular had occurred.

The orang is distinctly an animal of more serene temper and more philosophic mind than the chimpanzee. This has led some authors erroneously to p.r.o.nounce the orang an animal of morose and sluggish disposition, and mentally inferior to the chimpanzee.

After a close personal acquaintance with about forty captive orangs of various sizes, I am convinced that the facts do not warrant that conclusion. The orang-utans of the New York Zoological Park certainly have been as cheerful in disposition, as fond of exercise and as fertile in droll performances as our chimpanzees. Even though the mind of the chimpanzee does act more quickly than that of its rival, and even though its movements are usually more rapid and more precise, the mind of the orang carries that animal precisely as far. Moreover, in its native jungles the orang habitually builds for itself a very comfortable nest on which to rest and sleep, which the chimpanzee ordinarily does not do.

I think that the exact mental status of an anthropoid ape is best revealed by an attempt to train it to do some particular thing, in a manner that the trainer elects. Usually about five lessons, carefully observed, will afford a good index of the pupil's mental capabilities. Some chimpanzees are too nervous to be taught, some are too obstinate, and others are too impatient of restraint. Some orang-utans are hopelessly indifferent to the business in hand, and refuse to become interested in it. I think that no orang is too dull to learn to sit at a table, and eat with the utensils that are usually considered sacred to man's use, but the majority of them care only for the food, and take no interest in the function. On the other hand, the average chimpanzee is as restless as a newly-caught eel, and its mind is dominated by a desire to climb far beyond the reach of restraining hands, and to do almost anything save that which is particularly desired.

Among the twenty or more orangs which up to 1922 have been exhibited in the Zoological Park, two stand out with special prominence, by reason of their unusual mental qualities. They differed widely from each other. One was a born actor and imitator, who loved human partnership in his daily affairs. The other was an original thinker and reasoner, with a genius for invention, and at all times impatient of training and restraint.