The salt-water crocodile, that I have seen swimming out in the ocean two miles or more from sh.o.r.e, is in Borneo a voracious man- eater. It skilfully stalks its prey in the murky rivers where Malay and Dyak women and children come down to the village bathing place to dip up water and to bathe. There, unseen in the muddy water, the monster glides up stealthily, seizes his victim by the leg, and holding it tightly backs off into deep water and disappears. The victims are drowned, not bitten to death.

I found in Ceylon that the Indian crocodile is a shameless cannibal, devouring the skinned carca.s.ses of its relatives whenever an opportunity offered.

The Florida crocodile is the shrewdest species of all those I know personally. It has the strange habit of digging out deep and s.p.a.cious burrows for concealment, in the perpendicular sandy banks of southern Florida rivers where the deep water comes right up to the sh.o.r.e. Starting well under low-water mark, the crock digs in the yielding sand, straight into the bank, a roomy subterranean chamber. In this snug retreat he once was safe from all his enemies,--until the fatal day when his secret was discovered, and revealed to a grasping world. Since that time, the Alligator Joes of Palm Beach and Miami have made a business of personally conducting parties of northern visitors, at $50 per catch, to witness the adventure of catching a nine-foot crocodile alive. The dens are located by probing the sand with long iron rods. A rope noose is set over the den's entrance, and when all is ready, a confederate probes the crocodile out of its den and into the fatal noose.

Today the Florida crocodile is so nearly extinct that it required two years of diligent inquiry to produce one live specimen subject to purchase.

Common Sense in the Common Toad. Last spring, in planting a lot of trees on our lawn, a round tree-hole that stood for several days unoccupied finally acc.u.mulated about a dozen toads. Its two feet of straight depth was unscalable, and when finally discovered the toads were tired of their imprisonment. Partly as a test of their common-sense, Mr. George T. Fielding placed a six-inch board in the hole, at an angle of about thirty degrees, but fairly leading out of the trap.

In very quick time the toads recognized the possibilities of the inclined plane and hopped upward to liberty. In the use of this opportunity they showed more wisdom than our mountain sheep manifest concerning the same kind of an improvement designed to enable them to reach the roof of their building. XVII

THE TRAINING OF WILD ANIMALS

Before we enter this chapter let us pause a moment on the threshold, and consider the logic of animal training and performances.

Logic is only another name for reason. Its reverse side is fanaticism; and that way madness lies. It is the duty of every sane man and woman to consider the cold logic of every question affecting the welfare of man and nature. Fanaticism when carried to extremes can become a misdemeanor or a crime. The soft-hearted fanaticism of humanics that saves a brutal murderer, or would-be murderer like Berkman, from the gallows or the chair, and eventually turns him loose to commit more crimes against innocent people, is not only wrong, and wicked, but in aggravated cases it is a _crime_ against society.

Just now there is a tiny wave of agitation against all performances of trained wild animals, and the keeping of animals in captivity, on the ground that all this is "cruel" and inhumane.

The Jacklondon Society of Boston is working hard to get up steam for this crusade, but thus far with only partial success. Its influence is confined to a very small area.

Now, what is the truth of this matter? Is it true that trained wild animals are cruelly abused in the training, or in compelling them to perform? Is it true that in making animals perform on the stage, or in the circus ring, their rights are wickedly infringed?

Is it the duty of the American people to stop all performances by animals? Is it wicked to make wild animals, or cats and dogs, _work_ for a living, as men and women do? Is it true that captive animals in zoological parks and gardens are miserable and unhappy, and that all such inst.i.tutions should be "abolished?"

What is truth?

In the first place, there is no sound reasoning or logic in a.s.suming that the persons of animals, tame or wild, are any more sacred than those of men, women and children. We hold that it is no more "cruelty" for an ape or a dog to work in training quarters or on the stage than it is for men, women and young people to work as acrobats, or actors, or to engage in honest toil eight hours per day. Who gave to any warm-blooded animal that consumes food and requires shelter the right to live without work? _No one!_ I am sure that no trained bear of my acquaintance ever had to work as hard for his food and shelter as does the average bear out in the wilds. In order to find enough to eat the latter is compelled to hustle hard from dawn till dark. I have seen that the Rocky Mountain grizzly feels forced to dig a big hole three feet deep in hard, rocky ground, to get one tiny ground squirrel the size of a chipmunk,--and weighing only eight or nine ounces.

Now, has he anything "on" the performing bear? Decidedly not.

I regard the sentimental Jacklondon idea, that no wild animal should be made to work on the stage or in the show-ring, as illogical and absurd. Human beings who sanely work are much happier per capita than those who do nothing but loaf and grouch.

I have worked, horse-hard, throughout all the adult years of my life; and it has been good for me. I know that it is no more wrong or wicked for a horse to work for his living,--of course on a humane basis,--either on the stage or on the street, than it is for a coal-carrier, a foundryman, a farmer, a bookkeeper, a school teacher or a housewife to do the day's work.

The person of a wild animal is no more sacred than is that of a man or woman. A sound whack for an unruly elephant, bear or horse is just as helpful as it is for an unruly boy who needs to be shown that order is heaven's first law.

In the presence of the world's toiling and sweating millions, in the presence of millions of children in the home sweat-shops and factories working their little lives out for their daily crust and a hard bed, what shall we think and say of the good, kind-hearted people who are spending time and energy in crusading against trained animal performances?

The vast majority of performing animals are trained by humane men and women, practicing kindness to the utmost; and they are the last persons in the world who would be willing to have their valuable stock roughly handled, neglected or in any manner cruelly treated.

So far as zoological parks and gardens are concerned, they are no more in need of defense than the Rocky Mountains.

Every large zoological park is a school of wild-animal education and training; and it is literally a continuous performance. Let no one suppose that there is no training of wild beasts save for the circus ring and the vaudeville stage. Of the total number of large and important mammals that come into our zoological parks, the majority of them actually are trained to play becomingly their respective parts. An intractable and obstinate animal soon becomes a nuisance.

The following, named in the order of their importance, are the species whose zoological park training is a matter of necessity: Elephants, bears, apes, hippopotami, rhinoceroses, giraffes, bison, musk-ox, wild sheep, goats and deer, African antelopes, wild swine, and wild horses, a.s.ses and zebras. Of large birds the most conspicuous candidates for training in park life are the ostriches, emus, ca.s.sowaries, cranes, pelicans, swans, egrets and herons, geese, ducks, pheasants, macaws and c.o.c.katoos, cura.s.sows, eagles and vultures. Among the reptiles, the best trained are the giant tortoises, the pythons, boas, alligators, crocodiles, iguanas and gopher snakes.

Each one of these species is educated (1) to be peaceful, and not attack their keepers; (2) to not fear their keepers; (3) to do as they are bid about going here or there; (4) to accept and eat the food that is provided for them, and (5) finally, in some cases to "show off" a little when commanded, for the benefit of visitors.

All this training comes in the regular course of our daily work, and there are few animals who do not respond to it. The necessity for training is most imperative with the elephants and bears, for without it the difficulties in the management of those dangerous animals is greatly intensified.

In training an animal to do a particular act not in the routine of his daily life, it is of course necessary to show him clearly and pointedly what is desired. I think that in quickness of perception, and ability to adopt a new idea, the elephants and the great apes are tied for first place. Both are remarkably quick. It seems to me that it required only half a dozen lessons to teach our Indian elephant, Gunda, to take a penny in his trunk, lift the lid of a high-placed box, drop in the coin, then pull a bell-cord and ring a bell. Of course the reward for the first successful performances was lumps of sugar. Within three days this rather interesting special exhibit was working smoothly, and coining money. As a means of working off on the poor animal great numbers of foreign copper coins, and spurious issues of all kinds, it was a great boon to the foreign population of New York. Our erratic elephant Alice was quickly trained by Keeper Richards to blow a mouth organ, to ring a telephone by turning the crank, and to take off the receiver and hold it up to her ear for an imaginary call.

Another keeper, with no previous experience as a trainer, taught a male orang-utan called Rajah to go through a series of performances that are elsewhere described.

Bright and Dull Individuals. Every wild animal species contains the same range of bright and dull individuals that are found in the various races of men. Naturally the animal trainer selects for training only those animals that are of amiable disposition, that mentally are alert, responsive and possessed of good memories. The worst mistakes they make are in taking on and forcing ill-natured and irritable animals, that hate training and performing. Often a trainer persists in retaining an animal that resolutely should be thrown out. Captain Bonavita lost his arm solely because of his fatal persistence in retaining in his group of lions an animal that hated him, and which the trainer well knew was dangerous.

While nearly every wild animal can be taught a few simple tricks, the dull mind soon reaches its const.i.tutional limit. Even among the great apes, conditions are quite the same. One half the orang- utans are of the thin-headed, pin-headed type that is hopeless for stage training. The good ones are the stocky, round-headed, round- faced individuals who have the cephalic index of the statesman or jurist, and a broad and well-rounded dome of thought.

Training for the Ring and the Stage. During his long and successful career as a purveyor of wild animals for all purposes, Carl Hagenbeck had great success in the production of large animal groups trained for stage performances. I came in close touch with his methods and their results. His methods were very simple, and they were founded on kindness and common sense. Mr.

Hagenbeck hated whips and punishments. When an animal could not get on without them, it was dropped from the cast. His working theory was that an unwilling animal makes a bad actor.

There is no mystery about the best methods in training animals, wild or domestic. The first thing is to a.s.semble a suitable number of _young_ animals, all of which are mentally bright and physically sound. Most adult animals are impracticable, and often impossible, because they are set in their ways. The elephants are monumental exceptions. A large, well-lighted and sunny room is provided; and around it are the individual cages for the student animals. The members of the company are fed wisely and well, kept scrupulously clean, and in all ways made comfortable and contented. When not at their work they are allowed to romp and play together until they are tired of the exercise.

The trainer who has been selected to create a specified group spends practically his entire time with his pupils. He feeds them, and mixes with them daily and hourly. From the beginning he teaches them that _they must obey him, and not fight._ The work of training begins with simple things, and goes on to the complex; and each day the same routine is carried out.

To each animal is a.s.signed a certain place in the circle, with a certain tub or platform on which to sit at ease when not acting in the ring. It is exceedingly droll to see a dozen cub lions, tigers, bears and cheetahs sitting decorously on their respective tubs and gravely watching the thirteenth cub who is being labored with by the keeper to bring its ideas and acts into line. The stage properties are many; and they all a.s.sist in helping the actors to remember the sequence of their acts, as well as the things to be done. The key that controls the mind of a good animal is the reward idea. Many a really bad animal goes through its share of the performance solely to secure the bit of meat, the lump of sugar or the prized biscuit that never fails to show up at the proper moment.

[Ill.u.s.tration with caption: WORK ELEPHANT DRAGGING A HEWN TIMBER The most primitive form of elephant harness. The end of the drag rope is held between the teeth of the wise and patient animal (From A. G. R. Theobald, Mysore)]

The acts to be performed are gone over in the training quarters, innumerable times; and this continues so long that by the time the "group" is ready for the stage, behold! the cubs with which the patient and tireless trainer began have grown so large that to the audience they now seem like adult and savage animals. Those who scoff at the wild animal mind, and say that all this displays nothing but "machines in fur" need to be reminded that this very same line of effort in training and rehearsal is absolutely necessary in the production of every military company, every ballet, and every ma.s.s performance on the stage. There is _no_ successful performance without training. Boys and girls require the very same sort of handling that the wild animals receive, but the humans do with a little less of it.

The man who flouts a good stage performance by wild animals on the ground that it reveals "no thought," and is only "imitation," is, in my judgment, a very short-sighted student. Maniacs and imbeciles cannot be trained to perform any program fit to be seen.

I saw that tried fifty years ago, in "the wild Australian children," who were idiots. _The performer must think, and reason._

Of the many groups of trained animals that I have seen in performances, my mind goes back first to the one which contained a genuine bear comedian, of the Charlie Chaplin type. It was a Himalayan black bear, with fine side whiskers, and it really seemed to me absolutely certain that the other animals in the group appreciated and enjoyed the fun that comedian made. He pretended to be awkward, and frequently fell off his tub. He was purposely dilatory, and was often the last one to finish. The other animals seemed to be fascinated by his mishaps, and they sat on their tubs and watched him with what looked like genuine amus.e.m.e.nt. I remember another circle of seated animals who calmly and patiently sat and watched while the trainer labored with a cross and refractory leopard, to overcome its stubbornness, and to make it do its part.

Carl Hagenbeck loved to produce mixed groups of dangerous animals,--lions, tigers, leopards, bears and wolves. One trainer whom I knew was a.s.sisted in a highly dangerous group by a n.o.ble stag-hound who habitually kept close to his master, and was said to be ready to attack instantly any animal that might attack the trainer. I never saw a finer bodyguard than that dog.

In 1908 the most astounding animal group ever turned out of the Hagenbeck establishment, or shown on any stage, appeared in London. It consisted of _75 full-grown polar bears!_ Now, polar bears, either for the cage or the stage, are bad citizens.

Instinctively I always suspect their mental reservations, and for twenty-one years have carefully kept our keepers out of their reach. But Mr. William Hagenbeck, brother of the great Carl, actually trained and performed with a huge _herd_ of dangerous polars to the number stated.

In the _Strand_ magazine for April, 1908, there is a fine article by Arthur Harold about this group and its production. It says that the bears were obtained when seven or eight months old, in large lots, and all thrown in together. It took a keeper between seven and eight months to educate them out of their savage state,--by contact, kindness, sugar and fruit,--and then they were turned over to the trainer, Mr. Hagenbeck. They were taught to form pyramids, climb ladders, shoot the chutes, ride in pony carriages, draw and ride in sleds, drink from bottles, and work a see-saw. Various individuals did individual tricks. The star performer was Monk, the wrestling bear, who went with his trainer through a fearsome wrestling performance.

Concerning the temperament of that polar bear group Mr. William Hagenbeck said:

"Although I know every animal in the company, have taught each one to recognize me, and have been among many of them for _fifteen years,_ I can not now tell by their expressions the moods of the animals. This is one of the characteristics of the polar bear.

Their expression remains the same, and it is impossible to detect by watching their faces whether they are pleased or cross. Now in most wild animals, such as the lion, you can tell by the expression of the beast's face and by its actions whether it is in a good temper or not.... The truth is, the polar bear is a most awkward beast to train. In the first place its character is difficult to understand. He is by nature very suspicious, and without the least warning is apt to turn upon his trainer. Among the seventy bears that have been taught to do tricks, _only two_ of them are really fond of their work."

In the end, Mr. William Hagenbeck was very nearly killed by one of these polar bears. I was with Carl Hagenbeck a few hours after he received telegraphic news of the tragedy, and his bitterness against those polar bears was boundless. I understood that Monk, the wrestling bear, was the a.s.sailant,--which was small cause for wonder. When I saw Mr. Hagenbeck's polar bear show, it gave me shivers of fear. The first two big male polars that we installed at our Park came from that very group, and one of them led us into a dreadful tragedy, with a female bear as the victim.

The So-Called "Trick" Performances. Some psychologists make light of what they call "trick performances," in which the performing animals are guided by signs, or signals, or spoken commands from their trainers. I have never been able to account for this. It is incontestably true that dull and stupid animals can learn little, and perform less. For example, all the training in the world could not suffice to put a pig through a performance that a chimpanzee or orang could master in two weeks. The reason is that the pig has not the brain power that is indispensable. A woodchuck never could become the mental equal of a wood rat (_Neotoma_). A sheep could not hope to rival a horse, either in training or in execution.

Really, _the brain, the memory and reason must enter into every animal performance that amounts to anything worth while._ It is just as sensible to flout soldiers on the drill-ground as to wave aside as of no account a troup of trained lions or sea-lions on the stage. Any animal that can be taught to perform difficult feats, and that delivers the goods in the blinding glare and riot of the circus ring or the stage footlights, is ent.i.tled to my profound respect for its powers of mind and nerve.

The Sea-Lion's Repertoire. Long ago trainers recognized in the California sea-lion (_Zalophus_) a good subject for the ring and stage. Its long, supple neck, its lithe body and brilliant nervous energy seemed good for difficult acts. The sea-lion takes very kindly to training, and really delights in its performances.

In fact, it enters into its performance with a keen vigor and zest that is pleasing to behold. Let this veracious record of a performance of Treat's five sea-lions and two harbor seals, that I witnessed October 15, 1910, tell the whole story, in order that the reader may judge for himself:

1. Each sea-lion balanced upright on its nose a wooden staff 3 feet long, with a round k.n.o.b on its upper end.

2. Each sea-lion caught in its mouth a three-foot stick with a ball on each end, tossed it up, whirled it in the air, and caught it again. This was repeated, without a miss.

3. Each sea-lion balanced on the tip of its nose, first a ball like a baseball, then a large ball two feet in diameter.

4. Each sea-lion climbed a double ladder of eight steps, and went down on the other side, _balancing a large ball on the end of its nose, without a miss._