CHAPTER XIV. (W.)

ASSOCIATION OF ANIMALS.

THE principle of association in man is different in its develop ment from that which is observed in all other animals, in so far as it is progressive in him, and stationary in them. Man has, no doubt, a social or gregarious instinct, which leads him to love and to seek the company of his fellows. But the form which his associations assume, the purposes they accomplish, the manner in which they are carried on, vary according to the circumstances in which he is placed. What are more unlike than the habitations, the food, the dress, the manners, and the habits of a savage in the interior of Australia, and those of the refined inhabitants of the cities of Europe? The beaver builds and lives for the most part in the same way; he is precisely where he was when first known to man. The bee and the ant, perfect as their societies are for to the purposes of their peculiar existence, know and seek no improvement.

In man, then, the tendency is instinctive, but its development is entirely dependent upon observation, experience, reason, and feeling; its development differs, therefore, in every tribe and every nation. In animals, the tendency and the development are both instinctive; and the mode of development is, consequently, nearly identical, and never progressive.

The disposition of animals to associate with each other varies in degree and as to the objects to which it is directed. Some only associate for the purpose of continuing the species, and no personal relation exists between different individuals. Others connect themselves in pairs for the same object. Some are gregarious from apparently a simple love of companionship, and with this feeling even those of different species will sometimes attach themselves to each other. There are those that collect together in flocks for the purpose of attack or defence; those that are

combined together in order to build common habitations, but that still maintain their individual liberty; and, still further, those that not only build a common habitation, but constitute a community having regular institutions, a subordination of ranks, a division of labor, and a complete subservience of every individual to the general purposes of the state of which he constitutes a part.

The larger beasts of prey are unsociable and solitary. The lion associates with no other animal, seldom even with those of his own species. Some undoubted and interesting instances are recorded of his sparing small animals thrown into his cage, when he is himself a captive, and making them his companions. These are exceptions. Although by no means intrinsically sanguinary or ferocious, he has no love of society; he is, in his wild state, unapproachable, and loves to dwell and hunt by himself. The same is true of the tiger, the leopard, and others of the same description. But, among the carnivorous animals of the dog kinds, as the wolf and fox, as they are less powerful and courageous individually, we find a disposition to associate for certain purposes. It is ordinarily in concert that they attack large flocks of horses, deer, and sheep; but there is no other special bond of union among them, and no indication of an organized society.

Among many herbivorous quadrupeds the social disposition is strong, partly from the simple love of company, and partly for the purposes of common defence. Nearly all the larger animals of this kind, the elephant, horse, zebra, buffalo, bison, sheep, and deer, unite in large herds, and render themselves so formidable to beasts of prey, that it is only by stratagem and by picking up stragglers from the main body that any of them can be seized. Even the common sheep, proverbial as they have almost become for cowardice and stupidity, when they have been accustomed to feed in remote districts, beyond the protection of mankind, defend themselves with success against very formidable enemies. There is no animal which, in proportion to its size, is capable of inflicting a more severe blow than the male. The butt of the ram has even been known to overthrow the bull; the latter animal, by lowering his head too far, receiving the blow at a disadvan

tage. A single enemy will be thus disposed of; but, when attacked by numbers, as by a pack of wolves, the flock draws up into a compact body, with the young and weak in the centre, the stronger on the outside, and, thus arranged in a firm phalanx, it makes a formidable defence.

Among the smaller quadrupeds the social tendency is frequently very marked, but the object is not common defence. In many it is merely an instinctive preference for the society of their kind. Thus the vampire and spectre bats collect into flocks of prodigious numbers, but without any other apparent purpose.

But by others there is some more distinct object had in view, particularly the construction of common habitations. Such are the beaver, hamster, marmot, mole, and prairie dog. The numbers which thus assemble together are very large. A single farmer in Holland caught upon his own grounds more than five thousand hamsters. Their multiplication has sometimes been so great as to produce fears of a scarcity of grain. In a single town in Germany, where a premium was offered for their skins, eighty thousand were destroyed in one year. In our own country the most interesting example of this kind is in the prairie dog, already noticed. It is of a peaceable, accommodating, and most social disposition; for General Pike assures us he has seen the prairie dog, the rattlesnake, the pond frog, and the land tortoise, all take refuge in the same hole; to which motley company, the burrowing owl sometimes attaches himself.

The nobler birds of prey are solitary in their habits, and there is little society among them except what grows out of their relation to their offspring. The eagle and his mate appropriate a particular mountain or district to themselves, building their nest upon its most inaccessible spot. They hunt in company; one descends into the woods to frighten the small birds into the air, whilst the other sits upon some tree or rock to seize them as they rise. The vultures, on the contrary, collect in large bodies. Not that they prize society for its own sake. They simply collect together when the pursuit of some common object, such as the carcass of an animal or any collection of dead flesh, brings them together. Still so cowardly are they, even in large

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bers, that a single eagle will sometimes keep them at bay, while he is satisfying his own hunger. Mr. Wilson relates, that, when thousands of the dead bodies of squirrels, which had been drowned in attempting to cross the Ohio, had been swept on shore by an eddy of the river, a bald eagle was seen feasting upon them alone, whilst a crowd of hungry vultures were perched on the trees in the neighborhood, waiting, as patiently as they could, till he had finished his repast.

Of other birds, a great many collect together in flocks, partly from the instinctive desire of the company of their kind, but often also for security from their enemies. This security is not attained by any direct combined resistance, for this would be unavailable either against the large rapacious birds or against man. But, by posting a watch to give warning of danger, they are able to feed and sleep in comparative safety. Implicit reliance is placed upon the sentinels, and it has been stated, that, if unfaithful to their trust, their companions fall upon them and put them to death. In the Shetland Isles the number of sea-fowl is so great that their capture is made a profitable occupation, and a curious stratagem is employed to evade the vigilance of their sentinel. The hunter approaches him cautiously, keeping behind some projecting crag, till he is very near. Then from his place of concealment he continues to throw drops of water into his face. Annoyed by the disagreeable sensation, which he is supposed to attribute to rain or the spray from the sea, he puts his head for protection under his wing as when going to sleep. The result is, that, like a man who shuts his eyes and lies down, he actually does sleep. The hunter at once wrings his neck, and then proceeds to despatch his companions.

Some of the Parrots are social and affectionate. Mr. Wilson relates some interesting traits of a species which inhabits the United States. When one of a flock is shot, they do not fly away, but remain, hovering around the unfortunate victim, and uttering cries of distress. One of them was kept in a cage, and, when this was hung in the open air, crowds of wild birds gathered around, and kept up with him a continual chattering. A second captive was introduced, to the great delight of the first. He was constantly at his side, caressed him, nestled close to

him, and slept with his head under his wing. After a while one of them died. Mr. Wilson then sometimes placed a lookingglass by the side of the survivor, who, mistaking the image for his lost companion, manifested much joy, and, placing his head against the glass, went to sleep.

The Passenger Pigeon of North America is perhaps the most remarkable of birds for the immense numbers which are gathered together at the period of hatching and rearing their young. They frequent certain tracts of country, year after year in succession, and build their nests in company, upon the trees of a particular part of the forest. From these "roostingplaces," as they are called, they are sometimes obliged to fly fifty or sixty miles daily to feed. Mr. Wilson gives a graphic account of one of these places of resort in the State of Kentucky. He describes it as several miles in breadth and about forty in length. The birds arrive about the tenth of April and depart in the latter part of May. As soon as they arrive, the inhabitants collect from all parts of the country and begin a deadly warfare upon them. The ground beneath the trees where they have hatched their eggs is strewn with leaves, branches, nests, and the young birds they contained. Men are employed in cutting down the trees for the sake of the squabs. As many as a hundred nests have been counted upon a single one. Droves of hogs roam through the woods, feasting upon those which escape the vigilance of the hunters. The branches and the air are filled with myriads of the parent birds, whose wings produce a roaring like thunder, only interrupted by the crash of falling trees. High above all soar numbers of kites, hawks, buzzards, and eagles, darting down from time to time to seize their unresisting prey. Every morning they started before sunrise for the Indiana Territory, a distance of sixty miles, to feed; from whence they began to return by the middle of the forenoon, and continued through the day. Mr. Wilson states, that, as he was travelling in their neighborhood, he saw them flying in one direction all the morning, and at noon beginning to return. At one o'clock, having reached a convenient spot for the purpose, he took out his watch to determine how long they would be in returning. He waited a long time in vain. They continued to pass him in an uninterrupted mass,