detwiler NATURE-STUDY OF THE FARM 19 



a gate to start her thinking. You must try to drive her through 

 it. In fact, you must have a herd of them and it usually works 

 out this way. After you have run yourself out of breath gathering 

 the herd, the boss will take the lead and the skittish young cattle 

 will be bringing up the rear. As soon as the boss gets into the 

 gate where none of the others can pass, a great idea will strike her 

 and she will stop to chew her cud and think it over. You will 

 probably start yelling at her, but nothing can interrupt her 

 profound thoughts and your yelling will only disturb the young 

 cattle and start them scampering around the field. In all proba- 

 bility you will start throwing sticks and if your aim is good you 

 may jolt her through the gate. Then you will have to gather the 

 young cattle again, and when your flock is at the gate once more 

 you will find that the deputy boss becomes seized of a great 

 idea when she reaches the middle, and so the whole process 

 has to be gone over again." 



This particular phase of aesthetic interpretation borders closely 

 on another of still more fundamental import — that of sympathy. 

 We cannot observe any animals, tame or wild, without being 

 impressed by the fight they put up in the struggle for existence. 

 We interpret it in terms of our own struggle, but in a sense theirs 

 is the more pathetic, not knowing what it means and not reaping 

 any spiritual compensation. How at our mercy they are, and 

 how cold that mercy often is. Those of us who recognize this 

 struggle, whether it show itself in brute force or in cunning, 

 cannot help but interpret it in terms of sympathy. Burns well 

 expressed this in his poem to a field mouse: 



I must confess it is beyond me to understand how any man can 

 go out and find pleasure in shooting, that is killing, any animal 

 that has been unwary, or trusting enough not to make its escape 

 good. When I look from the eyes of the hunter gloating over 

 his prey, into those now fast glazing over in death, I fear I cannot 

 tell which is the brute. Kill we often must for our protection 

 but we cannot afford to do it ruthlessly. 



From this field of "earth born companions" we shall pass to 

 another where we may say nature is in its humbler beginnings — 

 nearer the first thoughts of the Love that created all, so infinite 

 in prophetic settings, so subtle with mysticism and charm. All 

 this is common property for both the farmer and the poet, yet 



