708 THE NATIONAL ZOO AT WASHINGTON. 



and that is its horns. The ox and sheep tribes of the world have sim- 

 ple horns of true horny material permanently growing on a bony core 

 which is part of the skull. The deer have horns of branched form 

 and of bony material sprouting from the head, but dropping off to be 

 renewed each year. Our antelope is the only animal in the world 

 whose weapons are of true horn growing on a bony core, as in the ox 

 tribes, yet branched and dropping off each year, as in the deer. 



It is now an axiom of science that not the smallest detail is without 

 a distinct purpose, for which it has been carefully adapted after ages 

 of experiment; yet long ago Darwin, the apostle of the belief, con- 

 fessed himself puzzled by the form of the antelope's horns. It seemed 

 as though a simple, straight spike would be so much more effective. 

 If the great philosopher had been with me in the Washington Zoolog- 

 ical Park that day, his puzzle would have been solved for him by two 

 of the antelopes themselves. They were having one of their period- 

 ical fights for the mastery; they approached with noses to the ground, 

 and after fencing for an opening they closed with a clash, and as they 

 thrust and parried the purpose of the prong was clear. It served the 

 antelope exactly as the guard on a bowie-knife does a Mexican or that 

 on a foil does a swordsman, for countless thrusts that would have 

 slipped up the horn and reached the head were caught with admirable 

 adroitness in this fork. 



And the inturned, harmless-looking points! I had to watch long 

 before I saw how dangerous they might be when the right moment 

 arrived. After several moments of fencing one of the bucks got under 

 the other one's guard, and making a sudden thrust, which the other 

 failed to catch in the fork, he brought his inturned left point to bear 

 on the unprotected throat of his opponent, who saved himself from 

 injury by rearing quickly, though it seemed to me that such a move 

 could not have stopped a fatal thrust if they had really been lighting 

 a deadly duel. 



III. 



It is a common saying among keepers that, averaging one animal 

 with another, a menagerie must be renewed every three years. Yet 

 I know of one manager who kept most of his animals, those of Wood- 

 ward's Gardens, San Francisco, alive, healthy, and happy from the 

 beginning of his time to the end, sixteen years later, when the estab- 

 lishment was broken up, and the animals were ordered to be shot in 

 their cages. The great secret of his success, he tells me. was caring 

 for their minds as well as for their bodies. 



It is a well known fact that lions and many other animals in traveling 

 circuses are healthier and live longer than those in ordinary menage- 

 ries. At first one might think that the traveling animals get more 

 fresh air and exercise than the others. Yet this is not the case, for the 

 circus cage is always very small and cramped. While traveling it is 



