INSTINCT. 135 



some extent to learn to drink. Their first attempts were awkward; 

 instead of dipping in their beaks, they pecked at the water, or rather 

 a', specks in the water, or at the edge of the water. All animals have a 

 capacity to learn; each individual must learn the topography of its 

 locality, and numerous other facts. Many dogs, horses and elephants 

 may be able to learn more than some men. But I have no doubt that 

 observation will bear out the popular belief that what may be called the 

 professional knowledge of the various species — those special manifesta- 

 tions of practical skill, dexterity and cunning that mark them off from 

 each other, no less clearly than do the physical differences whereon 

 naturalists base their classifications — is instinctive, and not acquired. 

 As we shall see, the creatures have not in a vast multitude of instances 

 the opportunity to acquire these arts. And if they had the opportunity, 

 they have not individually the eapacity to do so, even by way of imita- 

 tion. We have seen as a matter of fact that it is by instinct that the 

 chicken, and, I may now add, the turkey, scratch the surface of the 

 earth in search of insects ; also, that the turkey has a method of catching 

 flies so remarkably clever that it cannot be witnessed without astonish- 

 ment. Now, chickens like flies no less than turkeys, and, though with 

 less success, often try to catch them. But it is a significant fact that 

 they do not copy the superior art. To give every opportunity for imi- 

 tation, I placed a newly-hatched chicken with my turkey, when the latter 

 was eleven days old. The two followed me about for several weeks, and 

 when I deserted them they remained close companions throughout the 

 summer, neither of them ever associating with the other poultry. But 

 the chicken never caught the knowing trick of its companion — seemed, 

 indeed, wholly blind to the useful art that was for months practised 

 before its eyes. 



Before passing to the theory of instinct, it may be worthy of remark 

 that, unlooked for, I met with in the course of my experiments some very 

 suggestive, but not yet sufficiently observed, phenomena ; which, however, 

 have led me to the opinion that not only do the animals learn, but they 

 can also forget — and very soon — that which they never practised. 

 Further, it would seem that any early interference with the established 

 course of their lives may completely derange their mental constitution, 

 and give rise to an order of manifestations perhaps totally and unac- 

 countably different from what would have appeared under normal condi- 

 tions. Hence I am inclined to think that students of animal psychology 

 should endeavor to observe the unfolding of the powers of their subjects 

 in as nearly as possible the ordinary circumstances of their lives. And 

 perhaps it may be because they have not all been sufficiently on their 

 guard in this matter, that some experiments have seemed to tell against 

 the reality of instinct. Without attempting to prove the above proposi- 

 tions, one or two facts may be mentioned. Untaught, the new-born 



