Learning About Animals Through Stories 2

CONTENTS

GEORGE MARSHALL, taxidermist at the National Museum, Washington, D. C., relates the following amusing story about a green monkey that was in the Druid Hill Park Zoo, in Baltimore, Maryland, some years ago.

This monkey was kept in a large cage along with a number of other monkeys, most of which were smaller than he.

At feeding-time this monkey was very good in permitting the other monkeys to take and cram into their mouths whatever food they chose to take, as long as his keeper, Charles Morgan, was there watching him. But just soon as Mr. Morgan left, he would seize t smaller moneys by the neck and compel the to disgorge the food they had stored in their pouches at the sides of their mouths. Where there are a number of monkeys together, they have a habit of packing food in their mouths in this way, and taking it off to eat by themselves at their leisure.

Once when the monkeys were being fed, Mr. Marshall himself was present. He had already heard of the conduct of this monkey. So he stayed to make observations.

Sure enough, just as soon as Mr. Morgan, the keeper, was out of sight, this greedy monkey began taking the food away from the other monkeys by force. Calling to the keeper, Mr. Marshall told him what this monkey was doing -that he was robbing the other monkeys of their dinners.

No sooner had he done this than this monkey came to the corner of the cage where Mr. Marshall was, and made faces at him.

With whip in hand, the keeper returned, entered the cage, and ordered the offending monkey to come down from the shelf to which he had suddenly climbed and retired.

Not obeying, the keeper gave him a few cuts with his whip, whereupon the monkey came down and dropped on the floor of the cage, and, as we sometimes say, went all to pieces with humble submissions and pitiful whinings and cryings as the keeper switched him.

But no sooner was his chastisement over, than he once more came over to where Mr. Marshall was standing and made all sorts of ugly grimaces and wry faces at him. He knew that Mr. Marshall had told on him, or, as the schoolboys would say, had "snitched " on him, and that he was the cause of his having been punished, and he wished to show him his displeasure and disapproval of it. So, like some other bad children, he made faces at him. And he continued to do this every time he saw Mr. Marshall after this.

But, at bottom, the fault was all his own. At heart, he was a greedy, selfish, and overbearing monkey. He would rob smaller monkeys of their food because he was stronger and knew he could do it.

And he was an eye-serving monkey too. He was good only when he was being watched by his keeper. He could not, therefore, be trusted, and he deserved what he got--a whipping.

Boys sometimes act like this monkey.

RABBITS sometimes exhibit more sagacity than we are accustomed to give them credit for.

A wise old jack-rabbit that lived in a field near the Colorado and Wyoming stone quarry, succeeded in luring six dogs to their death in their chase after him.

This is how he did it. As soon as a dog began to chase him he would make straight for the stone quarry, one side of which drops straight down one hundred feet to the bottom.

As the rabbit neared the quarry he quickened his speed, and, leaping to within a few feet of the edge, quickly sprang to one side, while the dog, not perceiving the yawning gulf ahead, obscured by cactus growing to its very edge, unable to check his speed, bounded over the precipice and went tumbling down end over end to the rocks below.

JUST at daybreak early one spring morning a large fox was seen coming very quietly along the edge of a plantation. He looked with great care over the turf wall into the field, and seemed to long very much to get hold of some hares that were feeding in it, but apparently knew that he had no chance of catching one in a regular chase.

After considering for a short time, he seemed to have formed his plans. He examined the different gaps in the wall, fixed upon one which appeared to be the most frequented, and laid himself down close to it, in an attitude like that of a cat at a mouse-hole.

After a short time he seemed to have still further matured his plans for making sure of his prey. With great care and silence he scraped a small hollow in the ground, throwing up the sand in front of him as a sort of screen. Every now and then, however, he stopped to listen, and sometimes to take a sly peep into the field.

When he had done this, he lay down in a convenient posture for springing upon his prey, and remained perfectly motionless, with the exception that he occasionally took a sly peep at the feeding hares. When the sun began to rise, the hares came, one by one, from the field to make their way back to their more secluded daily haunts. Three had already come without passing his ambush, one within twenty yards of him, but he made no movement beyond crouching more flatly to the ground.

Presently two came toward him, and, though he did not venture to look up, it was evident by the slight motion of his ears, that those quick organs had already warned him of their approach. The two hares came through the gate together; and the fox, springing with the quickness of lightning, caught one immediately and without difficulty. Throwing it over his shoulder, he made off with it to his home in the woods.

THE Rocky Mountain, or white goat, inhabits the highest and most inaccessible tops of the Rocky Mountains and the Coast Ranges of the extreme northwestern part of the United States, British Columbia, and Southern Alaska, usually occurring in the region above that frequented by the mountain sheep. It is not a true goat, its relationship being with the goat-antelope of Asia and the chamois of Europe.

Its woolly coat is white at all seasons, but during the summer months is short and wool like, and differs greatly ' from the long, silky winter coat. The long wool grows well down on its legs. Its horns are black, sharp-pointed, trim, and neat. The whole head is long and slim. Altogether it presents a pleasing appearance.

Bands of mountain goats are usually led by a sagacious old female.

While very good climbers and fairly sure of their footing, contrary to common belief, the Rocky Mountain goat is not absolutely surefooted in its glacier climbing. Incidents of accident and even destruction to individual members of the species have occasionally been noted.

They are shy, wild, and wary, and are not, therefore, easily caught, inhabiting, as they do, the great mountain fastnesses; but it is sometimes possible to drive a small band of these interesting and beautiful snow-white creatures into a pocket, or under a rocky cornice, where the helpless animals can readily be photographed or slaughtered according to the pleasure of the pursuer. Their pelts make beautiful rugs, and are much prized by many.

Speaking of these goats, the New International Encyclopedia says : " All wild goats are essentially mountain animals, and exhibit a great aptitude for scrambling among the rocks and bushes of mountainous regions, are extremely sure-footed, and display great strength and agility in leaping. They also prefer as food the leaves and small branches of shrubs, and the strongly aromatic herbs which abound in mountainous localities, to the herbage of the richest pastures, browsing rather than grazing, as do sheep. They live in small herds, but the old bucks are likely to live separately, and thus serve the purpose of scouts, though all are extremely wary and hence are among the most difficult of game for the sportsman."

THE sagacity which some animals display in detecting when men are in need of help or protection, and the instinct which leads them to render that help or protection, are truly remarkable.

Many a dog has seen children struggling in the water, gone to their rescue, and saved them from drowning. A knowing horse has been known to lie down all night long by the side of its owner, who had become lost in a mountain snow-storm and pinioned under his overturned sled, to keep him from freezing to death.

Prince, a German police dog, saved the life of Frank C. Feyer, a marine, at Norfolk, Virginia, one day in September, 1926. Mr. Feyer had missed a dive into a breaker and lay helpless and motionless on the water-swept sands, paralyzed from a spinal injury. His dog, unable to pull him to safety, ran madly up and down the beach, making incoherent sounds. He soon attracted the attention of a bather some distance away, who came to the rescue.

More remarkable still was the help and protection a friendly elk gave to a Mr. W. B. Wilson, a man 65 years old, who, for five days and nights was lost in the Olympic Mountains, near Port Angeles, Washington, about this same time. The elk stayed near him during all this time, keeping away the wolves and cougars at night. Not until Mr. Wilson reached a tavern did this friendly elk leave him and return to his forest home.

AVERSE as we naturally are to the presence of rats, the average miner, it is said, hesitates to kill a rat, especially if he is working in a mine chamber where cave-ins are likely to occur, or where there is a smell of bad air or poisonous gas.

The ability of rats to recognize the imminence of disaster and to warn miners of approaching danger, has led many miners to respect their presence in mines, and to watch their movements.

In the anthracite coal-mines of Pennsylvania, rats have demonstrated that they are friends of the miners in giving them warning of approaching danger. A notable instance of this occurred in the Empire Colliery, in August, 1925.

While eating lunch one day, Anthony Kopinski and his son were attracted by the peculiar action of two rats which kept continually annoying them. Five times they drove the rats away by throwing pieces of coal at them, but each time the rodents returned. This aroused the suspicions of the elder Kopinski, who, directing his son to follow him, went out of the pit in haste.

They had proceeded only about twenty feet when the roof behind them crashed in, bringing down such a mass of coal and rock that it would require three weeks to remove it.

With their keen sense of hearing, the rats had doubtless heard the ominous first sounds of the mine giving way, and, out of regard for the miners, from whose lunches they had no doubt often heretofore had many a good bite and welcome feed themselves, they sought to warn these men of the impending danger, and to induce them to flee. And, as the event proved, their flight was not a moment too soon.

Even rats, it seems, may render useful service.

The periods for eating and the time between meals vary greatly in the animal kingdom. In countries where civilization has reached its greatest development, men, as a rule, have come to eat regularly three times a day. For human beings to go without food for even one or two days is called a fast, and to abstain from food or to be deprived of food for a few weeks means starvation and death.

The little birds often seem to be eating almost constantly. The cow, the horse, and the sheep, in pasture, likewise spend much of their time grazing.

The camel is noted for its ability to travel for days over the hot, burning sand of the desert without partaking of either food or water. By means of water pockets in its stomach and the humps of fat on its back, it is capable of doing this without apparent suffering or injury.

Snakes, in their natural state, feed, and in captivity they are fed, only at long intervals.

The caterpillar, the crab, and the lobster abstain from food during the entire shedding season of many weeks.

While little chicks begin to eat almost as soon as they are out of the shell, the young spider eats nothing during the first few weeks of its existence.

Hibernating animals, such as the bear, badger, prairie dog, skunk, ground-hog, and bat, abstain from food from late in the fall until early spring.

Sea bears and walruses go without food for weeks at breeding-time.

Among the fish, the salmon are noted for observing long, unbroken fasts. From the time they leave the ocean to ascend the fresh water rivers and streams for spawning, until they return to the ocean, be their sojourn long or short, they preserve an unbroken fast.

It is not to be supposed that these long fasts on the part of these animals are a hardship or self-imposed, but merely the carrying out of their instincts and nature. It is inconceivable to think that a dumb animal would not eat if hungry and opportunity offered. Like ourselves, they doubtless eat when they are hungry. But, unlike us, their hungry spells come at long intervals, and their capacity for storing up latent energy is proportionately great.

WHOEVER wantonly destroys the life of innocent and harmless creatures is by nature unfeeling and cruel, and takes that which he cannot give.

A large man with whom the author was well acquainted, was one day walking along the street in company with another gentleman, when he chanced to see an angleworm crawling across the sidewalk. Instead of treading upon it as he might easily have done, he took a small stick and tossed it over the fence into a grassy yard, saying as he did so, "Old fellow, you were in a dangerous place."

This man was a kind, tender-hearted man, and his act showed that he appreciated life as manifested in so small and insignificant a thing as a worm.

Many, doubtless, are not aware that angleworms render man and the rest of creation any service beyond furnishing good bait for fishing and food for robins. But they do. They are constantly boring myriads of holes in the ground which make it more porous, and enable it to take in more moisture when the rain falls.

The eyeless moles, by the numerous networks of holes they make just under the surface of the ground in their nightly searches for food, render a like service. They help to keep the ground moist and loose. When the ground is packed and hard it does not and cannot take in the water from rains as it does when perforated with holes or when the surface has been loosened up.

The ordinary bat is a small creature, but from examination of the stomachs of bats living sections where the coddling moth was destroying the apple crops, it has been found that as high as ninety per cent of the contents of their stomachs was made up of these destructive moths.

We cannot, therefore, judge of the value of a thing altogether by its size. Many a little thing renders a valuable service.

During the World War of 1914.1918, use was made of what were called camouflages, or ocular deceptions. Can. non carriages were painted with great irregular patches of yellow, black, and green to resemble foliage, and their long barrels to look like the trunks of fallen trees.

But long before the World War nature had made use of camouflages as a means of protection to various living creatures. Many of the small birds and animals, and some of the larger ones, whose habits lead them to be around much of the time on the dusty ground, are of a dust color. Look at the sparrow, the mouse, the hippopotamus, the rhinoceros, and the elephant.

To the rabbit nature has given a coat that resembles in color the dead grass and leaves in which it so often hides and makes its home and temporary habitation.

The polar bear, which lives amidst the snow and ice of the arctic regions, she has painted snow white. Bears living in other climates are of a different color.

In northern climates, the weasel, while reddish brown in summer, becomes white in winter.

The ermine closely related to the weasel and mink families, likewise changes from reddish-brown in summer to a beautiful white in winter.

The tall and stately giraffe, with its great irregular splotches of yellow and tan, is almost indistinguishable at a distance, when roaming about, even in herds, amidst the variegated trees and foliage of its native haunts.

To the famous but slow-moving chameleon, and to other members of the lizard family, nature has given that wonderful power quickly to change its color to correspond with the object upon which it rests. So delicate is this control, it is said, that its color is affected even by the passing of a cloud.

The story of the three men who nearly came to blows over the color of the chameleon, is only a commentary on one of the wonderful camouflages of nature.

IN the section on Birds we have told of the terrible slaughter and final extinction of the passenger-pigeon which was once numbered in the United States by countless millions. The country did not wake up to what was being done in the rapid killing off of these birds until it was too late and the last one was gone.

The same thing came nearly happening with the fur-bearing seal so much valued for its incomparably beautiful and glossy coat of fur. But timely action by those nations controlling the waters where most of these animals live, saved them from disappearing from the earth.

An editorial in the Washington Evening Star, for October 6, 1926, gives the following interesting information regarding this

"Good news comes from the Alaskan Islands, where are situated the rookeries of the fur-seal. The herd of these valuable animals now numbers 761,281, an increase during the past year of 28,231. In 1911, the last year of open sealing, these animals were reduced to 123,600.

"An international agreement (in 1912) happily ended the open slaughter which was fast exterminating this beautiful and valuable animal. The number existing in 1911 may sound like a lot, but it was only the merest fraction of the vast herds that once swam the Pacific, and had not action been taken and the remnant placed under the careful guardianship of the United States Bureau of Fisheries, the fur-seal would shortly have gone, never to return.

"The more than 760,000 now alive, plus the number slaughtered each season by carefully calculated permission, demonstrate what efficient conservation will accomplish, and teach, or should teach, the American public a sound lesson. The bison are, in effect, gone, although, like the aurochs of Europe, they may persist as specimens for centuries. The reasons are, first, senseless slaughter, and, second, utilization of their range for other and more important purposes. The ocean gives the seals their range.

"It may, at first, seem ridiculous to make a cast into the future and imagine a new dispatch of some far-distant date informing the public that Uncle Sam's forests now total some hundreds of thousands of trees, with gratifying crease during the year just past. Think of counting trees! Well, to think of counting seals once seemed just as absurd to sealers and to the purchasers of their catches. Yet the species was saved just in the nick of time."

THE following story illustrates how strong the instinct of mother love is in some of the lower order of animals.

Captain Ernest Whitehead captured a young seal near Anacapa Island, California, one day, and took him on board his ship. As the vessel started, the mother seal was noticed swimming about, howling piteously. The little captive barked responsively.

After reaching the wharf at Santa Barbara, the captive was tied up in a jute sack and left loose on the deck. Soon after coming to anchor, the seal responded to its mother's call by casting itself overboard, all tied up as it was in the jute sack. The mother seized the sack, and with her sharp teeth tore it open. She had followed the ship eighty miles.

Inspiration asks, "Can a mother forget her child?"

Mother love is the strongest and holiest thing on earth. When all other ties are broken, this remains true. History furnishes us with innumerable instances of this.

Even professed Christians have sometimes parted friendship and separated into widely divergent and contending factions over a difference regarding some form of worship or the meaning of some passage of Scripture. But a mother's love remains constant and true, and will follow the most wayward son to the gallows, and there pour out its last, unfailing devotion.

ONE of the most beautiful and interesting of all ancient love stories is one in which ten camels played a very important and conspicuous part.

Briefly told, the story runs as follows Abraham, an ancient Hebrew patriarch, was living in the land of Caanan, sometimes called the Holy Land.

Late in life Abraham had a son born to him by the name of Isaac.

When Isaac had become a young man, Abraham did not wish him to marry a Canaanitish woman, for the Canaanites were idolaters. Instead, he wished him to marry among his father's people in Mesopotamia.

So, calling his chief and trusted servant Eliezer to him, he told him to take ten camels, a number of servants, and some presents with him, and go to his home country in search of a wife for his son Isaac-a rather unusual method of getting a wife, it is true, but one which turned out all right in this case, as we shall see.

Upon completing the journey, Eliezer caused his camels to kneel down near a well just outside the city of Nahor, at eventide when some young women were coming out of the city to draw water out of the well.

Not forgetting his errand, Eliezer secretly prayed that a sign might be given him whereby he might know which one of these young women was to be his master's son's wife. The answer he received was, "The one who, after giving you a drink, offers to draw water for your camels also, she is the one."

And so it happened. True to the sign given, one of these young women, after letting down her pitcher, said to Eliezer, "Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also." Her name was Rebekah.

Eliezer was confident then that Rebekah was the one whom he was to take back with him as a wife for Abraham's son Isaac. He at once, therefore, gave her a beautiful gold ring and a pair of gold bracelets, and inquired whose daughter she was.

Rebekah not only told who her parents and her grandparents were, but showed her hospitable nature and willingness to entertain and care for the strangers and their camels, by saying, "We have both straw and provender enough, and room to lodge in."

Before Eliezer would eat that evening, he made known to Bethuel, Rebekah's father and his family, his errand. They at once gave their consent to let Rebekah go.

So suddenly had all this come about, however, that Rebekah's mother and her brother Laban asked that she be permitted to remain with them for ten days before taking her departure. They did not wish her to leave so suddenly.

But Eliezer felt that he should start on his return journey the next day if possible. So Rebekah's mother and brother said, "We will call the damsel, and inquire of her."

Calling her, they said to her, "Wilt thou go with this man?" And she said, "I will go." The choice, therefore, was her own. She was not compelled to go, but went of her own free will.

So, after Eliezer distributed further gifts and presents among the family, Rebekah returned with him the next day on the camels, a maid going along with her.

Upon seeing Rebekah, Isaac was greatly pleased with her, for it is said that she was very fair to look upon; and she was pleased with him likewise.

Isaac had been mourning over the loss of his mother, Sarah; but upon Rebekah's coming to him, we are told that he was comforted. In a way, she took the place of his mother, and they lived happily together in the tent, or home, which had formerly been occupied by Sarah.

Through her voluntarily offering to water the camels, in other words because of her willingness to be helpful, Rebekah not only gained for herself a good husband and a good home, but she placed herself where she became the mother of a great people-the people who gave us the Bible, and from whom came Moses, the leader of the children of Israel, and Christ, the promised Messiah, the Saviour and Redeemer of the world.

It pays to be kind, and to be ready always to lend a helping hand.

'Twas a bitter cold morning, the new-fallen snow

Had pierced every crack where a snowflake could go;

The streams were all solid, the ice sharp and clear;

And even the fishes were chilly, I fear.

Almost all the wild creatures were troubled and cold,

And sighed for sweet summer, the shy and the bold;

But one thrifty family, as you must know,

Were breakfasting merrily under the snow.

Close by a tall tree, in a hole in the ground,

Which led to a parlor, with leaves cushioned round,

Five jolly squirrels were sitting at ease,

And eating their breakfast as gay as you please.

-D. H. R. Goodale.

IT is interesting to study family life among birds and animals. Much of profit may be learned from such study.

First comes the choosing of partners, or the mating season, as it is called. The younger birds and animals that have never as yet reared families of their own, all come to this time and pass through this experience.

Then comes the building of the homes.

As to location, as safe and as far away from danger and out of harm's way as possible, seems to be the general law governing this.

The neatly built and ingeniously constructed nests of birds, and the warm, cozy, and wisely chosen homes of both birds and animals, all tell of an instinct, a wisdom and an intelligence that challenge our attention, and elicit our interest and admiration. In each we observe a wise adaptation to the ends for which it was made.

During the period of what in the case of birds is called incubation, or the time the mother bird has to sit on the eggs in order to hatch them, we note how true and attentive the male bird is to his mate, in many instances feeding her, and sometimes exchanging places with her in order to rest her and give her an opportunity to exercise herself and find food and water.

And when the little ones come, then both parents have their hands full in caring for them' and ministering to their wants. There are mouths to be fed and ravenous appetites to be satisfied then.

So far as we can see, there is no friction or quarreling going on in these homes, but incessant industry and hearty cooperation from morning till night, in providing for the wants and needs of the little family. Nor is there any partiality shown by the parents. Each little one gets his portion of food and share of attention.

And the parents do not cease their labors of love and their care and attention until their offspring are sufficiently grown and matured to care for themselves. Parent birds may often be seen feeding their young after they have left their nests and are able to fly about and perch on fences, roofs, trees, and telegraph and telephone wires. They guard them also against capture and attacks of enemies.

Not a few wild animals and birds mate for life, and are as loving, thoughtful, and true to each other as any human beings could be. The fox among animals and the pigeon among birds are examples.

RUMINATING animals are those that chew the cud. The animals belonging to this class are the grass- and herb-eating kinds, such as the cow, sheep, goat, deer, elk, moose, buffalo, antelope, camel, and giraffe. Those living in the wild state are the favorite prey of the large flesh eating animals.

This is a wise provision of nature, both for safety and for the thorough mastication, salivation, and assimilation of the food.

In order to obtain their food, these animals must go into the open, exposed places, and as the process of masticating such food as they eat is a long, tedious one, after having cropped it and, with slight chewing, swallowed it in coarse wisps and wads, they retire to the shelter of concealed positions to ruminate, or chew over again this same food.

With the cow and sheep, this is generally done in the evening or when lying down.

The stomach in ruminating animals consists of four compartments. The food, when first swallowed, goes into the first division of the stomach, called the paunch. There it is softened and passed into the second division of the stomach, where it is molded into pellets of convenient size to be later passed back through the esophagus into the mouth, where it is carefully masticated and mixed with saliva, and then swallowed again for final digestion and assimilation in the other divisions of the stomach.

As a rule, ruminating animals are good milk producers.