444 APPENDIX 



bitten by a poisonous snake seek a kind of origanum, \vhile 

 stags poisoned by a spider can cure themselves by eating crayfish. 

 Indeed, as to the treatment of wounds, Pliny states that stags 

 when wounded by arrows only have to eat the leaves of the 

 dictamnus in order to cause the arrow to fall out, and that 

 weasels when wounded in their battles with rats heal their 

 wounds by nibbling rue. 



However incredible these tales of the classical authors may 

 appear, we cannot altogether deny the possibility that animals 

 may know of remedies for their illnesses and accidents. Everyday 

 experience tells us that the dog's method of curing indigestion 

 by eating grass is by no means a bad one. It is equally rational 

 in stags, boars and other animals to cool their overheated blood 

 in a cold spring. We are justified then in cautiously inquiring 

 whether more highly organised animals when bitten by a 

 poisoned snake may not seek to stay the fui ther action of the 

 poison by using some familiar plant as an antidote. The 

 mongoose, an ichneumon inhabiting Java, is said by trustworthy 

 travellers of the present day to dig up the bitter root of the 

 ophiorrhiza mungo when bitten by a cobra; he rubs the 

 wound with the juice of this root which has such an invigorating 

 effect that he is soon ready to begin the fight again. In support 

 of this account it may be mentioned that the root of this plant 

 has a reputation all over India as an antidote to snake poison, 

 and natives point out the little mongoose as the origin of their 

 knowledge of the action of this plant. If he could really be 

 healed in this manner the mongoose ought by now to have ac- 

 quired an immunity against snake poisons, just as the hedgehog, 

 which is said by Lenz and Brehm to be immune to the bite of 

 the adder, has acquired this property as a heritage from many 

 generations of hedgehogs who have become immune owing to 

 many successive snake-bites from which they have been fortunate 

 enough to recover. 



The question as to whether wounded animals know how to 

 treat themselves is a less complicated matter. We may see 

 every day how dogs and cats lick freshly made and bleeding 

 wounds, and by this method, vigorously applied, obtain remark- 

 ably rapid healing without suppuration. The reports of travel- 

 lers are unanimous in stating that large animals invariably lick 

 their wounds whenever they can reach them with their tongues. 

 Wounded apes endeavour to staunch the blood by pressing 



