It may be set down as an absolute rule that hippos are lymphatic, easy-going, contented, and easy to take care of provided they are kept scrupulously clean, and are fed as they should be fed. They live long, breed persistently, give no trouble and have high exhibition value.
Giraffe individuals vary exceedingly,—beyond all other hoofed animals. Each one has its own headful of notions, and rarely will two be found quite alike in temperament and views of life. Some are sanguine and sensible, others are nervous, crotchety, and full of senseless fears. Those who are responsible for them in captivity are constantly harassed by fears that they will stampede in their stalls or yards, and break their own necks and legs in most unexpected ways. They require greater vigilance than any other hoofed animals we know. Sometimes a giraffe will develop foolishness to such a degree as to be unwilling to go out of its own huge door, into a shady and comfortable yard.
III
THE LANGUAGE OF WILD ANIMALS
Language is the means by which men and animals express their thoughts. Of language there are four kinds: vocal, pictured, written and sign language.
Any vocal sound uttered for the purpose of conveying thought, or influencing thought or action, is to be classed as vocal language. Among the mammals below man, speech is totally absent; but parrots, macaws, cockatoos and crows have been taught to imitate the sound of man's words, or certain simple kinds of music.
The primitive races of mankind first employed the sign language, and spoken words. After that comes picture language, and lastly the language of written words. Among the Indians and frontiersmen of the western United States and Canada, the sign language has reached what in all probability is its highest development, and its vocabulary is really wonderful.
The higher wild animals express their thoughts and feelings usually by sign language, and rarely by vocal sounds. Their power of expression varies species by species, or tribe by tribe, quite as it does among the races and tribes of men. It is our belief that there are today several living races of men whose vocabularies are limited to about 300 words.
Very many species of animals appear to be voiceless; but it is hazardous to attempt to specify the species. Sometimes under stress of new emergencies, or great pain, animals that have been considered voiceless suddenly give tongue. That hundreds of species of mammals and birds use their voices in promoting movements for their safety, there is no room to doubt. The only question is of the methods and the extent of voice used. Birds and men give expression to their pleasure or joy by singing.
In the jungle and the heavily wooded wilderness, one hears really little of vocal wild-animal language. Through countless generations the noisiest animals have been the first ones to be sought out and killed by their enemies, and only the more silent species have survived. All the higher animals, as we call the higher vertebrates, have the ability to exchange thoughts and convey ideas; and that is language.
At the threshold of this subject we are met by two interesting facts. Excepting the song-birds, the wild creatures of today have learned through instinct and accumulated experience that silence promotes peace and long life. The bull moose who bawls through a mile of forest, and the bull elk who bugles not wisely but too well, soon find their heads hanging in some sportsman's dining- room, while the silent Virginia deer, like the brook, goes on forever.
Association with man through countless generations has taught domestic animals not only the fact of their safety when giving voice, but also that very often there is great virtue in a vigorous outcry. With an insistent staccato neigh, the hungry horse jars the dull brain of its laggard master, and prompts him to "feed and water the stock." But how different is the cry of a lost horse, which calls for rescue. It cannot be imitated in printed words; but every plainsman knows the shrill and prolonged trumpet-call of distress that can be heard a mile or more, understandingly.
And think of the vocabulary of the domestic chicken! Years of life in fancied security have developed a highly useful vocabulary of language calls and cries. The most important, and the best known, are the following:
"Beware the hawk!"—"Coor! Coor!" "Murder! Help!"—"Kee- owk! Kee-owk! Kee-owk!" "Come on"—"Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!" "Food here! Food!"—"Cook-cook-cook-cook!" Announcement, or alarm—"Cut-cut-cut-dah-cut!" But does the wild jungle-fowl, the ancestor of our domestic chicken, indulge in all those noisy expressions of thought and feeling? By no means. I have lived for months in jungles where my hut was surrounded by jungle-fowl, and shot many of them for my table; but the only vocal sound I ever heard from their small throats was the absurdly shrill bantam-like crow of the cock. And even that led to several fatalities in the ranks of Gallus stanleyi.
Domestic cattle, swine and fowls have each a language of their own, and as far as they go they are almost as clear-cut and understandable as the talk of human beings. Just how much more is behind the veil that limits our understanding we cannot say; but no doubt there is a great deal.
But it is with the language of wild animals that we are most concerned. As already pointed out, wild creatures, other than song-birds, do not care to say much, because of the danger of attracting enemies that will exterminate them. Herein lies the extreme difficulty of ascertaining how wild beasts communicate. In the Animallai Hills of southern India I hunted constantly for many weeks through forests actually teeming with big game. There were herds upon herds of elephants, gaur, axis deer, sambar deer, monkeys by the hundred, and a good sprinkling of bears, wild hogs and tigers.
We saw hundreds upon hundreds of animals; but with the exception of the big black monkeys that used to swear at us, I can almost count upon my fingers the whole number of times that we heard animals raise their voices to communicate with each other.
Ape Voices. Naturally it is of interest to know something of the voices of the animals that physically and mentally stand nearest to man.
The wild gorilla has a voice almost equal to that of the chimpanzee, but in captivity he rarely utters any vocal sound other than a shriek, or scream.
The baby orang-utan either whines or shrieks like a human child. The half-grown or adult orang when profoundly excited bellows or roars, in a deep bass voice. Usually, however, it is a persistently silent animal.
The chimpanzee has a voice, and vociferously expresses its emotions.
First and most often is the plaintive, coaxing note, "Who'-oo! who'-oo! who'-oo!"
Then comes the angry and threatening, "Wah', wah', wah-! Wah'-hool Wah'-hool"
Lastly we hear the fearful, high-pitched yell or shriek, "Ah-h-h- h!" or "E-e-e-e."
The shriek, or scream, can be heard half a mile, and at close range it is literally ear-splitting. Usually it is accompanied by violent stamping or pounding with the feet upon the floor. It may signify rage, or nothing more than the joy of living, and of having a place in which to yell. It is this cry that is uncannily human-like in sound, and when heard for the first time it seems to register anguish.
In its Bornean jungle home, the orang-utan is nearly as silent as the grave. Never save once did I hear one utter a vocal sound. That was a deep bass roar emitted by an old male that I disturbed while he was sleeping on the comfortable nest of green branches that he had built for himself.
Concerning the chimpanzee, the late Mr. Richard L. Garner testified as follows:
"Not only does the chimpanzee often break the silence of the forest when all other voices are hushed, but he frequently answers the sounds of other animals, as if in mockery or defiance. … Although diurnal in habit, the chimpanzees often make the night reverberate with the sounds of their terrific screaming,