SEPTEMBER. 229 



creature that he caught and carefully stroked was cud- 

 dled in the hollow of his hand, and a spark of old-time 

 enthusiasm thrilled him when the warning cry of the 

 mother bird was heard, to which the captured baby quail 

 feebly responded. But here the unearthing of relics 

 called the archaeologist away, and I took up the study of 

 the quail. 



That parent birds are cunning all the world knows, 

 and it is commonly added that young birds, the moment 

 they are hatched, know by instinct the meaning of their 

 parents' calls. I do not believe it. Baby quails have a 

 good deal to learn in the first two or three days of their 

 lives, and the old birds realize that it falls to them to be 

 the teachers as well as protectors of their offspring. It 

 was very evident, I hold, that the seven little quails at the 

 Serpent Mound did not understand the urgent whistling 

 of their parents when they squatted in the grass. They 

 did not now respond, nor had the antics of the mother 

 bird, when she feigned being wounded, any effect upon 

 them. They occasionally shifted their positions, and as 

 often exposed themselves as sought a better cover. Later, 

 when the field was clear, the parent birds gathered them, 

 after long search, and as systematically as a shepherd 

 traces the wanderings of lost sheep. For at least a day, 

 if not for two, the anxious movements of the old quails 

 were meaningless to their young; but not so a day or 

 two later. Then you could no more have caught the 

 latter than the former. A little experience had gone a 

 great way in educating the brood, but that little was 

 necessary. 



I have laid stress upon this trivial occurrence, as I wish 

 to add a word of caution as to the common use of the 

 term " instinct." It is better to explain the habits of an 

 animal by other means, and fall back upon instinct when 

 all else fails. I have followed the fortunes of many a 



