VII
THE DAWN OF MIND
THE DAWN OF MIND
In the story of evolution there is no
chapter more interesting than the emergence of mind in the animal kingdom. But
it is a difficult chapter to read, partly because "mind" cannot be
seen or measured, only inferred from the outward behaviour of the
creature, and partly because it is almost impossible to avoid reading ourselves
into the much simpler animals.
§ 1
Two Extremes to be Avoided
The one extreme is that of uncritical
generosity which credits every animal, like Brer Rabbit—who, by the way, was
the hare—with human qualities. The other extreme is that of thinking of the
animal as if it were an automatic machine, in the working of which there is no
place or use for mind. Both these extremes are to be avoided.
When Professor Whitman took the
eggs of the Passenger Pigeon (which became extinct not long ago with startling
rapidity) and placed them a few inches to one side of the nest, the bird looked
a little uneasy and put her beak under her body as if to feel for something
that was not there. But she did not try to retrieve her eggs, close at hand as
they were. In a short time she flew away altogether. This shows that the mind
of the pigeon is in some respects very different from the mind of man. On the
other hand, when a certain clever dog, carrying a basket of eggs, with the
handle in his mouth, came to a stile which had to be negotiated, he laid the
basket on the ground, pushed it gently through a low gap to the other side, and
then took a running leap over. We dare not talk of this dog as an automatic
machine.
A Caution in Regard to Instinct
In studying the behaviour of animals, which
is the only way of getting at their mind, for it is only of our own mind that
we have direct knowledge, it is essential to give prominence to the fact that
there has been throughout the evolution of living creatures a strong tendency
to enregister or engrain capacities of doing things effectively. Thus certain
abilities come to be inborn; they are parts of the inheritance, which will
express themselves whenever the appropriate trigger is pulled. The newly born child
does not require to learn its breathing movements, as it afterwards requires to
learn its walking movements. The ability to go through the breathing movements
is inborn, engrained, enregistered.
In other words, there are
hereditary pre-arrangements of nerve-cells and muscle-cells which come into
activity almost as easily as the beating of the heart. In a minute or two the
newborn pigling creeps close to its mother and sucks milk. It has not to learn
how to do this any more than we have to learn to cough or sneeze. Thus animalshave many useful ready-made, or almost ready-made, capacities of doing
apparently clever things. In simple cases of these inborn pre-arrangements we
speak of reflex actions; in more complicated cases, of instinctive behaviour.
Now the caution is this, that while these inborn capacities usually work well
in natural conditions, they sometimes work badly when the ordinary routine is
disturbed. We see this when a pigeon continues sitting for many days on an
empty nest, or when it fails to retrieve its eggs only two inches away. But it
would be a mistake to call the pigeon, because of this, an unutterably stupid
bird. We have only to think of the achievements of homing pigeons to know that
this cannot be true. We must not judge animals in regard to those kinds of
behaviour which have been handed over to instinct, and go badly agee when the
normal routine is disturbed. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the
enregistered instinctive capacities work well, and the advantage of their becoming
stereotyped was to leave the animal more free for adventures at a higher level.
Being "a slave of instinct" may give the animal a security that
enables it to discover some new home or new food or new joy. Somewhat in the
same way, a man of methodical habits, which he has himself established, may
gain leisure to make some new departure of racial profit.
Photo: O. J. Wilkinson.
JACKDAW BALANCING ON A GATEPOST
The jackdaw is a big-brained, extremely alert, very
educable, loquacious bird.
From Ingersoll's "The Wit of the Wild."
TWO OPOSSUMS FEIGNING DEATH
The Opossums are mainly arboreal marsupials, insectivorous
and carnivorous, confined to the American Continent from the United States to Patagonia. Many have no pouch and carry their numerous young ones on their back,
the tail of the young twined round that of the mother. The opossums are agile,
clever creatures, and famous for "playing 'possum," lying inert just
as if they were dead.
MALE OF THREE-SPINED STICKLEBACK, MAKING A NEST OF
WATER-WEED, GLUED TOGETHER BY VISCID THREADS SECRETED FROM THE KIDNEYS AT THE
BREEDING SEASON
A FEMALE STICKLEBACK ENTERS THE NEST WHICH THE MALE
HAS MADE, LAYS THE EGGS INSIDE, AND THEN DEPARTS
In many cases two or three females use the same nest,
the stickleback being polygamous. Above the nest the male, who mounts guard, is
seen driving away an intruder.
When we draw back our finger from something
very hot, or shut our eye to avoid a blow from a rebounding branch, we do not
will the action; and this is more or less the case, probably, when a young
mammal sucks its mother for the first time. Some Mound-birds of Celebes lay
their eggs in warm volcanic ash by the shore of the sea, others in a great mass
of fermenting vegetation; it is inborn in the newly hatched bird to struggle
out as quickly as it can from such a strange nest, else it will suffocate. If
it stops struggling too soon, it perishes, for it seems that the trigger of the
instinct cannot be pulled twice. Similarly, when the eggs of the turtle, that
have been laid in the sand of the shore, hatch out, the young ones make instinctively
for the sea. Some of the crocodiles bury their eggs two feet or so below the
surface among sand and decaying vegetation—an awkward situation for a
birthplace. When the young crocodile is ready to break out of the egg-shell,
just as a chick does at the end of the three weeks of brooding, it utters instinctively
a piping cry. On hearing this, the watchful mother digs away the heavy
blankets, otherwise the young crocodile would be buried alive at birth. Now
there is no warrant for believing that the young Mound-birds, young crocodiles,
and young turtles have an intelligent appreciation of what they do when they
are hatched. They act instinctively, "as to the manner born." But
this is not to say that their activity is not backed by endeavour or even
suffused with a certain amount of awareness. Of course, it is necessarily
difficult for man, who is so much a creature of intelligence, to get even an
inkling of the mental side of instinctive behaviour.
In many of the higher reaches of
animal instinct, as in courtship or nest-building, in hunting or preparing the
food, it looks as if the starting of the routine activity also "rang
up" the higher centres of the brain and put the intelligence on the qui
vive, ready to interpose when needed. So the twofold caution is this: (1)
We must not depreciate the creature too much if, in unusual circumstances, it
acts in an ineffective way along lines of behaviour which are normally handed
over to instinct; and (2) we must leave open the possibility that even routine
instinctive behaviour may be suffused with awareness and backed by endeavour.