Section 16 - Instinct

Zoonomia, Vol. I Or, the Laws of Organic Life by Erasmus Darwin is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here: [LINK TO TABLE OF LINK]. Section XVI: Of Instinct

SECTION XVI. OF INSTINCT.

. of this Section, it is evinced that the fœtus learns to swallow before its nativity; for it is seen to open its mouth, and its stomach is found filled with the liquid that surrounds it. It opens its mouth, either instigated by hunger, or by the irksomeness of a continued attitude of the muscles of its face; the liquor amnii, in which it swims, is agreeable to its palate, as it consists of a nourishing material, (Haller Phys. T. 8. p. 204). It is tempted to experience its taste further in the mouth, and by a few efforts learns to swallow, in the same manner as we learn all other animal actions, which are attended with consciousness, by the repeated efforts of our muscles under the conduct of our sensations or volitions.

The inspiration of air into the lungs is so totally different from that of swallowing a fluid in which we are immersed, that it cannot be acquired before our nativity. But at this time, when the circulation of the blood is no longer continued through the placenta, that suffocating sensation, which we feel about the precordia, when we are in want of fresh air, disagreeably affects the infant: and all the muscles of the body are excited into action to relieve this oppression; those of the breast, ribs, and diaphragm are found to answer this purpose, and thus respiration is discovered, and is continued throughout our lives, as often as the oppression begins to recur. Many infants, both of the human creature, and of quadrupeds, struggle for a minute after they are born before they begin to breathe, (Haller Phys. T. 8. p. 400. ib pt. 2. p. 1). Mr. Buffon thinks the action of the dry air upon the nerves of smell of new-born animals, by producing an endeavour to sneeze, may contribute to induce this first inspiration, and that the rarefaction of the air by the warmth of the lungs contributes to induce expiration, (Hist. Nat. Tom. 4. p. 174). Which latter it may effect by producing a disagreeable sensation by its delay, and a consequent effort to relieve it. Many children sneeze before they respire, but not all, as far as I have observed, or can learn from others.

At length, by the direction of its sense of smell, or by the officious care of its mother, the young animal approaches the odoriferous rill of its future nourishment, already experienced to swallow. But in the act of swallowing, it is necessary nearly to close the mouth, whether the creature be immersed in the fluid it is about to drink, or not: hence, when the child first attempts to suck, it does not slightly compress the nipple between its lips, and suck as an adult person would do, by absorbing the milk; but it takes the whole nipple into its mouth for this purpose, compresses it between its gums, and thus repeatedly chewing (as it were) the nipple, presses out the milk, exactly in the same manner as it is drawn from the teats of cows by the hands of the milkmaid. The celebrated Harvey observes, that the fœtus in the womb must have sucked in a part of its nourishment, because it knows how to suck the minute it is born, as any one may experience by putting a finger between its lips, and because in a few days it forgets this art of sucking, and cannot without some difficulty again acquire it, (Exercit. de Gener. Anim. 48). The same observation is made by Hippocrates.

A little further experience teaches the young animal to suck by absorption, as well as by compression; that is, to open the chest as in the beginning of respiration, and thus to rarefy the air in the mouth, that the pressure of the denser external atmosphere may contribute to force out the milk.

The chick yet in the shell has learnt to drink by swallowing a part of the white of the egg for its food; but not having experienced how to take up and swallow solid seeds, or grains, is either taught by the felicitous industry of its mother; or by many repeated attempts is enabled at length to distinguish and to swallow this kind of nutriment.

And puppies, though they know how to suck like other animals from their previous experience in swallowing, and in respiration; yet are they long in acquiring the art of lapping with their tongues, which from the flaccidity of their cheeks, and length of their mouths, is afterwards a more convenient way for them to take in water.

. of this Section. Thus Virgil. Georg. III. 250.

Nonne vides, ut tota tremor pertentat equorum

Corpora, si tantum notas odor attulit auras?

Nonne canis nidum veneris nasutus odore

Quærit, et erranti trahitur sublambere linguâ?

Respuit at gustum cupidus, labiisque retractis

Elevat os, trepidansque novis impellitur æstris

Inserit et vivum felici vomere semen.—

Quam tenui filo cæcos adnectit amores

Docta Venus, vitæque monet renovare favillam!—ANON.

The following curious experiment is related by Galen. "On dissecting a goat great with young I found a brisk embryon, and having detached it from the matrix, and snatching it away before it saw its dam, I brought it into a certain room, where there were many vessels, some filled with wine, others with oil, some with honey, others with milk, or some other liquor; and in others were grains and fruits; we first observed the young animal get upon its feet, and walk; then it shook itself, and afterwards scratched its side with one of its feet: then we saw it smelling to every one of these things, that were set in the room; and when it had smelt to them all, it drank up the milk." L. 6. de locis. cap. 6.

Parturient quadrupeds, as cats, and bitches, and sows, are led by their sense of smell to eat the placenta as other common food; why then do they not devour their whole progeny, as is represented in an antient emblem of TIME? This is said sometimes to happen in the unnatural state in which we confine sows; and indeed nature would seem to have endangered her offspring in this nice circumstance! But at this time the stimulus of the milk in the tumid teats of the mother excites her to look out for, and to desire some unknown circumstance to relieve her. At the same time the smell of the milk attracts the exertions of the young animals towards its source, and thus the delighted mother discovers a new appetite, as mentioned in Sect. . and her little progeny are led to receive and to communicate pleasure by this most beautiful contrivance.

. on Diseases from Volition.

.

. of this Section, as well as by common observation.

There are some parts of a horse, which he cannot conveniently rub, when they itch, as about the shoulder, which he can neither bite with his teeth, nor scratch with his hind foot; when this part itches, he goes to another horse, and gently bites him in the part which he wishes to be bitten, which is immediately done by his intelligent friend. I once observed a young foal thus bite its large mother, who did not choose to drop the grass she had in her mouth, and rubbed her nose against the foal's neck instead of biting it; which evinces that she knew the design of her progeny, and was not governed by a necessary instinct to bite where she was bitten.

Many of our shrubs, which would otherwise afford an agreeable food to horses, are armed with thorns or prickles, which secure them from those animals; as the holly, hawthorn, gooseberry, gorse. In the extensive moorlands of Staffordshire, the horses have learnt to stamp upon a gorse-bush with one of their fore-feet for a minute together, and when the points are broken, they eat it without injury. The horses in the new forest in Hampshire are affirmed to do the same by Mr. Gilpin. Forest Scenery, II. 251, and 112. Which is an art other horses in the fertile parts of the country do not possess, and prick their mouths till they bleed, if they are induced by hunger or caprice to attempt eating gorse.

Swine have a sense of touch as well as of smell at the end of their nose, which they use as a hand, both to root up the soil, and to turn over and examine objects of food, somewhat like the proboscis of an elephant. As they require shelter from the cold in this climate, they have learnt to collect straw in their mouths to make their nest, when the wind blows cold; and to call their companions by repeated cries to assist in the work, and add to their warmth by their numerous bedfellows. Hence these animals, which are esteemed so unclean, have also learned never to befoul their dens, where they have liberty, with their own excrement; an art, which cows and horses, which have open hovels to run into, have never acquired. I have observed great sagacity in swine; but the short lives we allow them, and their general confinement, prevents their improvement, which might probably be otherwise greater than that of dogs.

Instances of the sagacity and knowledge of animals are very numerous to every observer, and their docility in learning various arts from mankind, evinces that they may learn similar arts from their own species, and thus be possessed of much acquired and traditional knowledge.

A dog whose natural prey is sheep, is taught by mankind, not only to leave them unmolested, but to guard them; and to hunt, to set, or to destroy other kinds of animals, as birds, or vermin; and in some countries to catch fish, in others to find truffles, and to practise a great variety of tricks; is it more surprising that the crows should teach each other, that the hawk can catch less birds, by the superior swiftness of his wing, and if two of them follow him, till he succeeds in his design, that they can by force share a part of the capture? This I have formerly observed with attention and astonishment.

There is one kind of pelican mentioned by Mr. Osbeck, one of Linnæus's travelling pupils (the pelicanus aquilus), whose food is fish; and which it takes from other birds, because it is not formed to catch them itself; hence it is called by the English a Man-of-war-bird, Voyage to China, p. 88. There are many other interesting anecdotes of the pelican and cormorant, collected from authors of the best authority, in a well-managed Natural History for Children, published by Mr. Galton. Johnson. London.

And the following narration from the very accurate Mons. Adanson, in his Voyage to Senegal, may gain credit with the reader: as his employment in this country was solely to make observations in natural history. On the river Niger, in his road to the island Griel, he saw a great number of pelicans, or wide throats. "They moved with great state like swans upon the water, and are the largest bird next to the ostrich; the bill of the one I killed was upwards of a foot and half long, and the bag fastened underneath it held two and twenty pints of water. They swim in flocks, and form a large circle, which they contract afterwards, driving the fish before them with their legs: when they see the fish in sufficient number confined in this space, they plunge their bill wide open into the water, and shut it again with great quickness. They thus get fish into their throat-bag, which they eat afterwards on shore at their leisure." P. 247.

XII. The knowledge and language of those birds, that frequently change their climate with the seasons, is still more extensive: as they perform these migrations in large societies, and are less subject to the power of man, than the resident tribes of birds. They are said to follow a leader during the day, who is occasionally changed, and to keep a continual cry during the night to keep themselves together. It is probable that these emigrations were at first undertaken as accident directed, by the more adventurous of their species, and learned from one another like the discoveries of mankind in navigation. The following circumstances strongly support this opinion.

1. Nature has provided these animals, in the climates where they are produced, with another resource: when the season becomes too cold for their constitutions, or the food they were supported with ceases to be supplied, I mean that of sleeping. Dormice, snakes, and bats, have not the means of changing their country; the two former from the want of wings, and the latter from his being not able to bear the light of the day. Hence these animals are obliged to make use of this resource, and sleep during the winter. And those swallows that have been hatched too late in the year to acquire their full strength of pinion, or that have been maimed by accident or disease, have been frequently found in the hollows of rocks on the sea coasts, and even under water in this torpid state, from which they have been revived by the warmth of a fire. This torpid state of swallows is testified by innumerable evidences both of antient and modern names. Aristotle speaking of the swallows says, "They pass into warmer climates in winter, if such places are at no great distance; if they are, they bury themselves in the climates where they dwell," (8. Hist. c. 16. See also Derham's Phys. Theol. v. ii. p. 177.)

Hence their emigrations cannot depend on a necessary instinct, as the emigrations themselves are not necessary.

2. When the weather becomes cold, the swallows in the neighbourhood assemble in large flocks; that is, the unexperienced attend those that have before experienced the journey they are about to undertake: they are then seen some time to hover on the coast, till there is calm whether, or a wind, that suits the direction of their flight. Other birds of passage have been drowned by thousands in the sea, or have settled on ships quite exhausted with fatigue. And others, either by mistaking their course, or by distress of weather, have arrived in countries where they were never seen before: and thus are evidently subject to the same hazards that the human species undergo, in the execution of their artificial purposes.

3. The same birds are emigrant from some countries and not so from others: the swallows were seen at Goree in January by an ingenious philosopher of my acquaintance, and he was told that they continued there all the year; as the warmth of the climate was at all seasons sufficient for their own constitutions, and for the production of the flies that supply them with nourishment. Herodotus says, that in Libya, about the springs of the Nile, the swallows continue all the year. (L. 2.)

Quails (tetrao corturnix, Lin.) are birds of passage from the coast of Barbary to Italy, and have frequently settled in large shoals on ships fatigued with their flight. (Ray, Wisdom of God, p. 129. Derham. Physic. Theol. v. ii. p. 178,) Dr. Ruffel, in his History of Aleppo, observes that the swallows visit that country about the end of February, and having hatched their young disappear about the end of July; and returning again about the beginning of October, continue about a fortnight, and then again disappear. (P. 70.)

When my late friend Dr. Chambres, of Derby, was on the island of Caprea in the bay of Naples, he was informed that great flights of quails annually settle on that island about the beginning of May, in their passage from Africa to Europe. And that they always come when the south-east wind blows, are fatigued when they rest on this island, and are taken in such amazing quantities and sold to the Continent, that the inhabitants pay the bishop his stipend out of the profits arising from the sale of them.

The flights of these birds across the Mediterranean are recorded near three thousand years ago. "There went forth a wind from the Lord and brought quails from the sea, and let them fall upon the camp, a day's journey round about it, and they were two cubits above the earth," (Numbers, chap. ii. ver. 31.)

In our country, Mr. Pennant informs us, that some quails migrate, and others only remove from the internal parts of the island to the coasts, (Zoology, octavo, 210.) Some of the ringdoves and stares breed here, others migrate, (ibid. 510, ii.) And the slender billed small birds do not all quit these kingdoms in the winter, though the difficulty of procuring the worms and insects, that they feed on, supplies the same reason for migration to them all, (ibid. 511.)

Linnæus has observed, that in Sweden the female chaffinches quit that country in September, migrating into Holland, and leave their mates behind till their return in spring. Hence he has called them Fringilla cælebs, (Amæn. Acad. ii. 42. iv. 595.) Now in our climate both sexes of them are perennial birds. And Mr. Pennant observes that the hoopoe, chatterer, hawfinch, and crossbill, migrate into England so rarely, and at such uncertain times, as not to deserve to be ranked among our birds of passage, (ibid. 511.)

The water fowl, as geese and ducks, are better adapted for long migrations, than the other tribes of birds, as, when the weather is calm, they can not only rest themselves, or sleep upon the ocean, but possibly procure some kind of food from it.

Hence in Siberia, as soon as the lakes are frozen, the water fowl, which are very numerous, all disappear, and are supposed to fly to warmer climates, except the rail, which, from its inability for long flights, probably sleeps, like our bat, in their winter. The following account from the Journey of Professor Gmelin, may entertain the reader. "In the neighbourhood of Krasnoiark, amongst many other emigrant water fowls, we observed a great number of rails, which when pursued never took flight, but endeavoured to escape by running. We enquired how these birds, that could not fly, could retire into other countries in the winter, and were told, both by the Tartars and Assanians, that they well knew those birds could not alone pass into other countries: but when the cranes (les grues) retire in autumn, each one takes a rail (un rale) upon his back, and carries him to a warmer climate."

Recapitulation.

1. All birds of passage can exist in the climates, where they are produced.

2. They are subject in their migrations to the same accidents and difficulties, that mankind are subject to in navigation.

3. The same species of birds migrate from some countries, and are resident in others.

From all these circumstances it appears that the migrations of birds are not produced by a necessary instinct, but are accidental improvements, like the arts among mankind, taught by their cotemporaries, or delivered by tradition from one generation of them to another.

XIII. In that season of the year which supplies the nourishment proper for the expected brood, the birds enter into a contract of marriage, and with joint labour construct a bed for the reception of their offspring. Their choice of the proper season, their contracts of marriage, and the regularity with which they construct their nests, have in all ages excited the admiration of naturalists; and have always been attributed to the power of instinct, which, like the occult qualities of the antient philosophers, prevented all further enquiry. We shall consider them in their order.

Their Choice of the Season.

Our domestic birds, that are plentifully supplied throughout the year with their adapted food, and are covered with houses from the inclemency of the weather, lay their eggs at any season: which evinces that the spring of the year is not pointed out to them by a necessary instinct.

Whilst the wild tribes of birds choose this time of the year from their acquired knowledge, that the mild temperature of the air is more convenient for hatching their eggs, and is soon likely to supply that kind of nourishment, that is wanted for their young.

If the genial warmth of the spring produced the passion of love, as it expands the foliage of trees, all other animals should feel its influence as well as birds: but, the viviparous creatures, as they suckle their young, that is, as they previously digest the natural food, that it may better suit the tender stomachs of their offspring, experience the influence of this passion at all seasons of the year, as cats and bitches. The graminivorous animals indeed generally produce their young about the time when grass is supplied in the greatest plenty, but this is without any degree of exactness, as appears from our cows, sheep, and hares, and may be a part of the traditional knowledge, which they learn from the example of their parents.

Their Contracts of Marriage.

Their mutual passion, and the acquired knowledge, that their joint labour is necessary to procure sustenance for their numerous family, induces the wild birds to enter into a contract of marriage, which does not however take place among the ducks, geese, and fowls, that are provided with their daily food from our barns.

An ingenious philosopher has lately denied, that animals can enter into contracts, and thinks this an essential difference between them and the human creature:—but does not daily observation convince us, that they form contracts of friendship with each other, and with mankind? When puppies and kittens play together, is there not a tacit contract, that they will not hurt each other? And does not your favorite dog expect you should give him his daily food, for his services and attention to you? And thus barters his love for your protection? In the same manner that all contracts are made amongst men, that do not understand each others arbitrary language.

Construction of their Nests.

1. They seem to be instructed how to build their nests from their observation of that, in which they were educated, and from their knowledge of those things, that are most agreeable to their touch in respect: to warmth, cleanliness, and stability. They choose their situations from their ideas of safety from their enemies, and of shelter from the weather. Nor is the colour of their nests a circumstance unthought of; the finches, that build in green hedges, cover their habitations with green moss; the swallow or martin, that builds against rocks and houses, covers her's with clay, whilst the lark chooses vegetable straw nearly of the colour of the ground she inhabits: by this contrivance, they are all less liable to be discovered by their adversaries.

2. Nor are the nests of the same species of birds constructed always of the same materials, nor in the same form; which is another circumstance that ascertains, that they are led by observation.

In the trees before Mr. Levet's house in Lichfield, there are annually nests built by sparrows, a bird which usually builds under the tiles of houses, or the thatch of barns. Not finding such convenient situations for their nests, they build a covered nest bigger than a man's head, with an opening like a mouth at the side, resembling that of a magpie, except that it is built with straw and hay, and lined with feathers, and so nicely managed as to be a defence against both wind and rain.

The following extract from a Letter of the Rev. Mr. J. Darwin, of Carleton Scroop in Lincolnshire, authenticates a curious fact of this kind. "When I mentioned to you the circumstance of crows or rooks building in the spire of Welbourn church, you expressed a desire of being well informed of the certainty of the fact. Welbourn is situated in the road from Grantham to Lincoln on the Cliff row; I yesterday took a ride thither, and enquired of the rector, Mr. Ridgehill, whether the report was true, that rooks built in the spire of his church. He assured me it was true, and that they had done so time immemorial, as his parishioners affirmed. There was a common tradition, he said, that formerly a rookery in some high trees adjoined the church yard, which being cut down (probably in the spring, the building season), the rooks removed to the church, and built their nests on the outside of the spire on the tops of windows, which by their projection a little from the spire made them convenient room, but that they built also on the inside. I saw two nests made with sticks on the outside, and in the spires, and Mr. Ridgehill said there were always a great many.

"I spent the day with Mr. Wright, a clergyman, at Fulbeck, near Welbourn, and in the afternoon Dr. Ellis of Headenham, about two miles from Welbourn, drank tea at Mr. Wright's, who said he remembered, when Mr. Welby lived at Welbourn, that he received a letter from an acquaintance in the west of England, desiring an answer, whether the report of rooks building in Welbourn church was true, as a wager was depending on that subject; to which he returned an answer ascertaining the fact, and decided the wager." Aug. 30, 1794.

So the jackdaw (corvus monedula) generally builds in church-steeples, or under the roofs of high houses; but at Selbourn, in Southamptonshire, where towers and steeples are not sufficiently numerous, these birds build in forsaken rabbit burrows. See a curious account of these subterranean nests in White's History of Selbourn, p. 59. Can the skilful change of architecture in these birds and the sparrows above mentioned be governed by instinct? Then they must have two instincts, one for common, and the other for extraordinary occasions.

I have seen green worsted in a nest, which no where exists in nature: and the down of thistles in those nests, that were by some accident constructed later in the summer, which material could not be procured for the earlier nests: in many different climates they cannot procure the same materials, that they use in ours. And it is well known, that the canary birds, that are propagated in this country, and the finches, that are kept tame, will build their nests of any flexile materials, that are given them. Plutarch, in his Book on Rivers, speaking of the Nile, says, "that the swallows collect a material, when the waters recede, with which they form nests, that are impervious to water." And in India there is a swallow that collects a glutinous substance for this purpose, whose nest is esculent, and esteemed a principal rarity amongst epicures, (Lin. Syst. Nat.) Both these must be constructed of very different materials from those used by the swallows of our country.

In India the birds exert more artifice in building their nests on account of the monkeys and snakes: some form their pensile nests in the shape of a purse, deep and open at top; others with a hole in the side; and others, still more cautious, with an entrance at the very bottom, forming their lodge near the summit. But the taylor-bird will not ever trust its nest to the extremity of a tender twig, but makes one more advance to safety by fixing it to the leaf itself. It picks up a dead leaf, and sews it to the side of a living one, its slender bill being its needle, and its thread some fine fibres; the lining consists of feathers, gossamer, and down; its eggs are white, the colour of the bird light yellow, its length three inches, its weight three sixteenths of an ounce; so that the materials of the nest, and the weight of the bird, are not likely to draw down an habitation so slightly suspended. A nest of this bird is preserved in the British Museum, (Pennant's Indian Zoology). This calls to one's mind the Mosaic account of the origin of mankind, the first dawning of art there ascribed to them, is that of sewing leaves together. For many other curious kinds of nests see Natural History for Children, by Mr. Galton. Johnson. London. Part I. p. 47. Gen. Oriolus.

3. Those birds that are brought up by our care, and have had little communication with others of their own species, are very defective in this acquired knowledge; they are not only very awkward in the construction of their nests, but generally scatter their eggs in various parts of the room or cage, where they are confined, and seldom produce young ones, till, by failing in their first attempt, they have learnt something from their own observation.

4. During the time of incubation birds are said in general to turn their eggs every day; some cover them, when they leave the nest, as ducks and geese; in some the male is said to bring food to the female, that she may have less occasion of absence, in others he is said to take her place, when she goes in quest of food; and all of them are said to leave their eggs a shorter time in cold weather than in warm. In Senegal the ostrich sits on her eggs only during the night, leaving them in the day to the heat of the sun; but at the Cape of Good Hope, where the heat is less, she sits on them day and night.

If it should be asked, what induces a bird to sit weeks on its first eggs unconscious that a brood of young ones will be the product? The answer must be, that it is the same passion that induces the human mother to hold her offspring whole nights and days in her fond arms, and press it to her bosom, unconscious of its future growth to sense and manhood, till observation or tradition have informed her.

5. And as many ladies are too refined to nurse their own children, and deliver them to the care and provision of others; so is there one instance of this vice in the feathered world. The cuckoo in some parts of England, as I am well informed by a very distinct and ingenious gentleman, hatches and educates her own young; whilst in other parts she builds no nest, but uses that of some lesser bird, generally either of the wagtail, or hedge sparrow, and depositing one egg in it, takes no further care of her progeny.

As the Rev. Mr. Stafford was walking in Glosop Dale, in the Peak of Derbyshire, he saw a cuckoo rise from its nest. The nest was on the stump of a tree, that had been some time felled, among some chips that were in part turned grey, so as much to resemble the colour of the bird, in this nest were two young cuckoos: tying a string about the leg of one of them, he pegged the other end of it to the ground, and very frequently for many days beheld the old cuckoo feed these her young, as he stood very near them.

The following extract of a Letter from the Rev. Mr. Wilmot, of Morley, near Derby, strengthens the truth of the fact above mentioned, of the cuckoo sometimes making a nest, and hatching her own young.

"In the beginning of July 1792, I was attending some labourers on my farm, when one of them said to me, "There is a bird's nest upon one of the Coal-slack Hills; the bird is now sitting, and is exactly like a cuckoo. They say that cuckoo's never hatch their own eggs, otherwise I should have sworn it was one." He took me to the spot, it was in an open fallow ground; the bird was upon the nest, I stood and observed her some time, and was perfectly satisfied it was a cuckoo; I then put my hand towards her, and she almost let me touch her before she rose from the nest, which she appeared to quit with great uneasiness, skimming over the ground in the manner that a hen partridge does when disturbed from a new hatched brood, and went only to a thicket about forty or fifty yards from the nest; and continued there as long as I staid to observe her, which was not many minutes. In the nest, which was barely a hole scratched out of the coal-slack in the manner of a plover's nest, I observed three eggs, but did not touch them. As I had labourers constantly at work in that field, I went thither every day, and always looked to see if the bird was there, but did not disturb her for seven or eight days, when I was tempted to drive her from the nest, and found two young ones, that appeared to have been hatched some days, but there was no appearance of the third egg. I then mentioned this extraordinary circumstance (for such I thought it) to Mr. and Mrs. Holyoak of Bidford Grange, Warwickshire, and to Miss M. Willes, who were on a visit at my house, and who all went to see it. Very lately I reminded Mr. Holyoak of it, who told me he had a perfect recollection of the whole, and that, considering it a curiosity, he walked to look at it several times, was perfectly satisfied as to its being a cuckoo, and thought her more attentive to her young, than any other bird he ever observed, having always found her brooding her young. In about a week after I first saw the young ones, one of them was missing, and I rather suspected my plough-boys having taken it; though it might possibly have been taken by a hawk, some time when the old one was seeking food. I never found her off her nest but once, and that was the last time I saw the remaining young one, when it was almost full feathered. I then went from home for two or three days, and, when I returned, the young one was gone, which I take for granted had flown. Though during this time I frequently saw cuckoos in the thicket I mention, I never observed any one, that I supposed to be the cock-bird, paired with this hen."

Nor is this a new observation, though it is entirely overlooked by the modern naturalists, for Aristotle speaking of the cuckoo, asserts that she sometimes builds her nest among broken rocks, and on high mountains, (L. 6. H. c. 1.) but adds in another place that she generally possesses the nest of another bird, (L. 6. H. c. 7.) And Niphus says that cuckoos rarely build for themselves, most frequently laying their eggs in the nests of other birds, (Gesner, L. 3. de Cuculo.)

The Philosopher who is acquainted with these facts concerning the cuckoo, would seem to have very little reason himself, if he could imagine this neglect of her young to be a necessary instinct!

XIV. The deep recesses of the ocean are inaccessible to mankind, which prevents us from having much knowledge of the arts and government of its inhabitants.

1. One of the baits used by the fisherman is an animal called an Old Soldier, his size and form are somewhat like the craw-fish, with this difference, that his tail is covered with a tough membrane instead of a shell; and to obviate this defect, he seeks out the uninhabited shell of some dead fish, that is large enough to receive his tail, and carries it about with him as part of his clothing or armour.

2. On the coasts about Scarborough, where the haddocks, cods, and dog-fish, are in great abundance, the fishermen universally believe that the dog-fish make a line, or semicircle, to encompass a shoal of haddocks and cod, confining them within certain limits near the shore, and eating them as occasion requires. For the haddocks and cod are always found near the shore without any dog-fish among them, and the dog-fish further off without any haddocks or cod; and yet the former are known to prey upon the latter, and in some years devour such immense quantities as to render this fishery more expensive than profitable.

3. The remora, when he wishes to remove his situation, as he is a very slow swimmer, is content to take an outside place on whatever conveyance is going his way; nor can the cunning animal be tempted to quit his hold of a ship when she is sailing, not even for the lucre of a piece of pork, lest it should endanger the loss of his passage: at other times he is easily caught with the hook.

4. The crab-fish, like many other testaceous animals, annually changes its shell; it is then in a soft state, covered only with a mucous membrane, and conceals itself in holes in the sand or under weeds; at this place a hard shelled crab always stands centinel, to prevent the sea insects from injuring the other in its defenceless state; and the fishermen from his appearance know where to find the soft ones, which they use for baits in catching other fish.

And though the hard shelled crab, when he is on this duty, advances boldly to meet the foe, and will with difficulty quit the field; yet at other times he shews great timidity, and has a wonderful speed in attempting his escape; and, if often interrupted, will pretend death like the spider, and watch an opportunity to sink himself into the sand, keeping only his eyes above. My ingenious friend Mr. Burdett, who favoured me with these accounts at the time he was surveying the coasts, thinks the commerce between the sexes takes place at this time, and inspires the courage of the creature.

5. The shoals of herrings, cods, haddocks, and other fish, which approach our shores at certain seasons, and quit them at other seasons without leaving one behind; and the salmon, that periodically frequent our rivers, evince, that there are vagrant tribes of fish, that perform as regular migrations as the birds of passage already mentioned.

6. There is a cataract on the river Liffey in Ireland about nineteen feet high: here in the salmon season many of the inhabitants amuse themselves in observing these fish leap up the torrent. They dart themselves quite out of the water as they ascend, and frequently fall back many times before they surmount it, and baskets made of twigs are placed near the edge of the stream to catch them in their fall.

I have observed, as I have sat by a spout of water, which descends from a stone trough about two feet into a stream below, at particular seasons of the year, a great number of little fish called minums, or pinks, throw themselves about twenty times their own length out of the water, expecting to get into the trough above.

This evinces that the storgee, or attention of the dam to provide for the offspring, is strongly exerted amongst the nations of fish, where it would seem to be the most neglected; as these salmon cannot be supposed to attempt so difficult and dangerous a task without being conscious of the purpose or end of their endeavours.

It is further remarkable, that most of the old salmon return to the sea before it is proper for the young shoals to attend them, yet that a few old ones continue in the rivers so late, that they become perfectly emaciated by the inconvenience of their situation, and this apparently to guide or to protect the unexperienced brood.

Of the smaller water animals we have still less knowledge, who nevertheless probably possess many superior arts; some of these are mentioned in Botanic Garden, P. I. Add. Note XXVII. and XXVIII. The nympha of the water-moths of our rivers, which cover themselves with cases of straw, gravel, and shell, contrive to make their habitations, nearly in equilibrium with the water; when too heavy, they add a bit of wood or straw; when too light, a bit of gravel. Edinb. Trans.

All these circumstances bear a near resemblance to the deliberate actions of human reason.

XV. We have a very imperfect acquaintance with the various tribes of insects: their occupations, manner of life, and even the number of their senses, differ from our own, and from each other; but there is reason to imagine, that those which possess the sense of touch in the most exquisite degree, and whole occupations require the most constant exertion of their powers, are induced with a greater proportion or knowledge and ingenuity.

The spiders of this country manufacture nets of various forms, adapted to various situations, to arrest the flies that are their food; and some of them have a house or lodging-place in the middle of the net, well contrived for warmth, security, or concealment. There is a large spider in South America, who constructs nets of so strong a texture as to entangle small birds, particularly the humming bird. And in Jamaica there is another spider, who digs a hole in the earth obliquely downwards, about three inches in length, and one inch in diameter, this cavity she lines with a tough thick web, which when taken out resembles a leathern purse: but what is most curious, this house has a door with hinges, like the operculum of some sea shells; and herself and family, who tenant this nest, open and shut the door, whenever they pass or repass. This history was told me, and the nest with its operculum shewn me by the late Dr. Butt of Bath, who was some years physician in Jamaica.

The production of these nets is indeed a part of the nature or conformation of the animal, and their natural use is to supply the place of wings, when she wishes to remove to another situation. But when she employs them to entangle her prey, there are marks of evident design, for she adapts the form of each net to its situation, and strengthens those lines, that require it, by joining others to the middle of them, and attaching those others to distant objects, with the same individual art, that is used by mankind in supporting the masts and extending the sails of ships. This work is executed with more mathematical exactness and ingenuity by the field spiders, than by those in our houses, as their constructions are more subjected to the injuries of dews and tempests.

Besides the ingenuity shewn by these little creatures in taking their prey, the circumstance of their counterfeiting death, when they are put into terror, is truly wonderful; and as soon as the object of terror is removed, they recover and run away. Some beetles are also said to possess this piece of hypocrisy.

The curious webs, or chords, constructed by some young caterpillars to defend themselves from cold, or from insects of prey; and by silk-worms and some other caterpillars, when they transmigrate into aureliæ or larvæ, have deservedly excited the admiration of the inquisitive. But our ignorance of their manner of life, and even of the number of their senses, totally precludes us from understanding the means by which they acquire this knowledge.

The care of the salmon in choosing a proper situation for her spawn, the structure of the nests of birds, their patient incubation, and the art of the cuckoo in depositing her egg in her neighbour's nursery, are instances of great sagacity in those creatures: and yet they are much inferior to the arts exerted by many of the insect tribes on similar occasions. The hairy excrescences on briars, the oak apples, the blasted leaves of trees, and the lumps on the backs of cows, are situations that are rather produced than chosen by the mother insect for the convenience of her offspring. The cells of bees, wasps, spiders, and of the various coralline insects, equally astonish us, whether we attend to the materials or to the architecture.

But the conduct of the ant, and of some species of the ichneumon fly in the incubation of their eggs, is equal to any exertion of human science. The ants many times in a day move their eggs nearer the surface of their habitation, or deeper below it, as the heat of the weather varies; and in colder days lie upon them in heaps for the purpose of incubation: if their mansion is too dry, they carry them to places where there is moisture, and you may distinctly see the little worms move and suck up the water. When too much moisture approaches their nest, they convey their eggs deeper in the earth, or to some other place of safety. (Swammerd. Epil. ad Hist. Insects, p. 153. Phil. Trans. No. 23. Lowthrop. V. 2. p. 7.)

There is one species of ichneumon-fly, that digs a hole in the earth, and carrying into it two or three living caterpillars, deposits her eggs, and nicely closing up the nest leaves them there; partly doubtless to assist the incubation, and partly to supply food to her future young, (Derham. B. 4, c. 13. Aristotle Hist. Animal, L. 5. c. 20.)

A friend of mine put about fifty large caterpillars collected from cabbages on some bran and a few leaves into a box, and covered it with gauze to prevent their escape. After a few days we saw, from more than three fourths of them, about eight or ten little caterpillars of the ichneumon-fly come out of their backs, and spin each a small cocoon of silk, and in a few days the large caterpillars died. This small fly it seems lays its egg in the back of the cabbage caterpillar, which when hatched preys upon the material, which is produced there for the purpose of making silk for the future nest of the cabbage caterpillar; of which being deprived, the creature wanders about till it dies, and thus our gardens are preserved by the ingenuity of this cruel fly. This curious property of producing a silk thread, which is common to some sea animals, see Botanic Garden, Part I. Note XXVII. and is designed for the purpose of their transformation as in the silk-worm, is used for conveying themselves from higher branches to lower ones of trees by some caterpillars, and to make themselves temporary nests or tents, and by the spider for entangling his prey. Nor is it strange that so much knowledge should be acquired by such small animals; since there is reason to imagine, that these insects have the sense of touch, either in their proboscis, or their antennæ, to a great degree of perfection; and thence may possess, as far as their sphere extends, as accurate knowledge, and as subtle invention, as the discoverers of human arts.

XVI. 1. If we were better acquainted with the histories of those insects that are formed into societies, as the bees, wasps, and ants, I make no doubt but we should find, that their arts and improvements are not so similar and uniform as they now appear to us, but that they arose in the same manner from experience and tradition, as the arts of our own species; though their reasoning is from fewer ideas, is busied about fewer objects, and is exerted with less energy.

There are some kinds of insects that migrate like the birds before mentioned. The locust of warmer climates has sometimes come over to England; it is shaped like a grasshopper, with very large wings, and a body above an inch in length. It is mentioned as coming into Egypt with an east wind, "The lord brought an east wind upon the land all that day and night, and in the morning the east wind brought the locusts, and covered the face of the earth, so that the land was dark," Exod. x. 13. The migrations of these insects are mentioned in another part of the scripture, "The locusts have no king, yet go they forth all of them in bands," Prov. xxx. 27.

The accurate Mr. Adanson, near the river Gambia in Africa, was witness to the migration of these insects. "About eight in the morning, in the month of February, there suddenly arose over our heads a thick cloud, which darkened the air, and deprived us of the rays of the sun. We found it was a cloud of locusts raised about twenty or thirty fathoms from the ground, and covering an extent of several leagues; at length a shower of these insects descended, and after devouring every green herb, while they rested, again resumed their flight. This cloud was brought by a strong east-wind, and was all the morning in passing over the adjacent country." (Voyage to Senegal, 158.)

In this country the gnats are sometimes seen to migrate in clouds, like the musketoes of warmer climates, and our swarms of bees frequently travel many miles, and are said in North America always to fly towards the south. The prophet Isaiah has a beautiful allusion to these migrations, "The Lord shall call the fly from the rivers of Egypt, and shall hiss for the bee that is in the land of Assyria," Isa. vii. 18. which has been lately explained by Mr. Bruce, in his travels to discover the source of the Nile.

2. I am well informed that the bees that were carried into Barbadoes, and other western islands, ceased to lay up any honey after the first year, as they found it not useful to them: and are now become very troublesome to the inhabitants of those islands by infesting their sugar houses; but those in Jamaica continue to make honey, as the cold north winds, or rainy seasons of that island, confine them at home for several weeks together. And the bees of Senegal, which differ from those of Europe only in size, make their honey not only superior to ours in delicacy of flavour, but it has this singularity, that it never concretes, but remains liquid as syrup, (Adanson). From some observations of Mr. Wildman, and of other people of veracity, it appears, that during the severe part of the winter season for weeks together the bees are quite benumbed and torpid from the cold, and do not consume any of their provision. This state of sleep, like that of swallows and bats, seems to be the natural resource of those creatures in cold climates, and the making of honey to be an artificial improvement.

As the death of our hives of bees appears to be owning to their being kept so warm, as to require food when their stock is exhausted; a very observing gentleman at my request put two hives for many weeks into a dry cellar, and observed, during all that time, they did not consume any of their provision, for their weight did not decrease as it had done when they were kept in the open air. The same observation is made in the Annual Register for 1768, p. 113. And the Rev. Mr. White, in his Method of preserving Bees, adds, that those on the north side of his house consumed less honey in the winter than those on the south side.

There is another observation on bees well ascertained, that they at various times, when the season begins to be cold, by a general motion of their legs as they hang in clusters produce a degree of warmth, which is easily perceptible by the hand. Hence by this ingenious exertion, they for a long time prevent the torpid state they would naturally fall into.

According to the late observations of Mr. Hunter, it appears that the bee's-wax is not made from the dust of the anthers of flowers, which they bring home on their thighs, but that this makes what is termed bee-bread, and is used for the purpose of feeding the bee-maggots; in the same manner butterflies live on honey, but the previous caterpillar lives on vegetable leaves, while the maggots of large flies require flesh for their food, and those of the ichneumon fly require insects for their food. What induces the bee who lives on honey to lay up vegetable powder for its young? What induces the butterfly to lay its eggs on leaves, when itself feeds on honey? What induces the other flies to seek a food for their progeny different from what they consume themselves? If these are not deductions from their own previous experience or observation, all the actions of mankind must be resolved into instinct.

3. The dormouse consumes but little of its food during the rigour of the season, for they roll themselves up, or sleep, or lie torpid the greatest part of the time; but on warm sunny days experience a short revival, and take a little food, and then relapse into their former state." (Pennant Zoolog. p. 67.) Other animals, that sleep in winter without laying up any provender, are observed to go into their winter beds fat and strong, but return to day-light in the spring season very lean and feeble. The common flies sleep during the winter without any provision for their nourishment, and are daily revived by the warmth of the sun, or of our fires. These whenever they see light endeavour to approach it, having observed, that by its greater vicinity they get free from the degree of torpor, that the cold produces; and are hence induced perpetually to burn themselves in our candles: deceived, like mankind, by the misapplication of their knowledge. Whilst many of the subterraneous insects, as the common worms, seem to retreat so deep into the earth as not to be enlivened or awakened by the difference of our winter days; and stop up their holes with leaves or straws, to prevent the frosts from injuring them, or the centipes from devouring them. The habits of peace, or the stratagems of war, of these subterranean nations are covered from our view; but a friend of mine prevailed on a distressed worm to enter the hole of another worm on a bowling-green, and he presently returned much wounded about his head. And I once saw a worm rise hastily out of the earth into the sunshine, and observed a centipes hanging at its tail: the centipes nimbly quitted the tail, and seizing the worm about its middle cut it in half with its forceps, and preyed upon one part, while the other escaped. Which evinces they have design in stopping the mouths of their habitations.

4. The wasp of this country fixes his habitation under ground, that he may not be affected with the various changes of our climate; but in Jamaica he hangs it on the bough of a tree, where the seasons are less severe. He weaves a very curious paper of vegetable fibres to cover his nest, which is constructed on the same principle with that of the bee, but with a different material; but as his prey consists of flesh, fruits, and insects, which are perishable commodities, he can lay up no provender for the winter.

M. de la Loubiere, in his relation of Siam, says, "That in a part of that kingdom, which lies open to great inundations, all the ants make their settlements upon trees; no ants' nests are to be seen any where else." Whereas in our country the ground is their only situation. From the scriptual account of these insects, one might be led to suspect, that in some climates they lay up a provision for the winter. Origen affirms the same, (Cont. Cels. L. 4.) But it is generally believed that in this country they do not, (Prov. vi. 6. xxx. 25.) The white ants of the coast of Africa make themselves pyramids eight or ten feet high, on a base of about the same width, with a smooth surface of rich clay, excessively hard and well built, which appear at a distance like an assemblage of the huts of the negroes, (Adanson). The history of these has been lately well described in the Philosoph. Transactions, under the name of termes, or termites. These differ very much from the nest of our large ant; but the real history of this creature, as well as of the wasp, is yet very imperfectly known.

Wasps are said to catch large spiders, and to cut off their legs, and carry their mutilated bodies to their young, Dict. Raison. Tom. I. p. 152.

One circumstance I shall relate which fell under my own eye, and shewed the power or reason in a wasp, as it is exercised among men. A wasp, on a gravel walk, had caught a fly nearly as large as himself; kneeling on the ground I observed him separate the tail and the head from the body part, to which the wings were attached. He then took the body part in his paws, and rose about two feet from the ground with it; but a gentle breeze wafting the wings of the fly turned him round in the air, and he settled again with his prey upon the gravel. I then distinctly observed him cut off with his mouth, first one of the wings, and then the other, after which he flew away with it unmolested by the wind.

Go, thou sluggard, learn arts and industry from the bee, and from the ant!

Go, proud reasoner, and call the worm thy sister!

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