62 WILD NEIGHBORS CHAP. 



even humanity possesses the rudiment of a tail 

 concealed beneath the skin. The same is true of 

 the more human-like kinds of monkeys (the apes). 



Some tails, like those of the bear, deer, and goat, 

 are so short, stubbed, and immovable as to defy 

 any attempt to perceive a present purpose in their 

 existence. Of what possible use to a turtle, for 

 example, is its tail ? None, apparently, whatever 

 might have been the case in the differently con- 

 stituted ancestors of the turtle. This part has sim- 

 ply remained after its service in chelonian economy 

 had been long outgrown, as buttons are still sewed 

 upon the sleeves of our coats, although a century 

 has elapsed since men thus fastened back their 

 too voluminous cuffs. 



It is a survival of the misfit. 



Indeed, it would not be easy, were one to insist 

 upon visible utility in every case, to prove the 

 serviceability of some of the most pretentious of 

 these appendages. Look at the wild cats. The 

 panther and the ocelot have long and graceful 

 tails ; the lynxes own the merest apology for one, 

 and are irreverently dubbed " bobcats " in the 

 West. Yet you cannot say that the former species 

 thrives better than the latter. Length or brevity 

 of tail seems to have nothing to do with either 

 habits or happiness. Thus the wrens and our 

 various thrashers (Harporhynchi) are cousins-ger- 

 man ; yet the wren's tail is an absurd little tuft of 

 short feathers " weel cockit " over his rump, and 



