How Animals Talk 



language to which our naturalists have thus far 

 paid any attention ; and doubtless some of them 

 would object to the use of the word "language" 

 in such a connection. In all matters of real 

 natural history, however (real, that is, in the sense 

 of dealing at first hand with individual birds or 

 beasts), I am much more inclined to listen to old 

 Tomah, who says, when I ask him whether ani- 

 mals can talk: "Talk? Course he kin talk! 

 Eve'ting talk in hees own way. Hear me now 

 make-um dat young owl talk." And, stepping 

 outside the circle of camp-fire light, Tomah utters 

 a hoot, which is answered at a distance every time 

 he tries it. After parleying with the stranger in 

 this tentative fashion, Tomah sends forth a dif- 

 ferent call; and immediately, as if in ready ac- 

 ceptance of an invitation, a barred owl glides like 

 a gray shadow into a tree over our heads. I have 

 heard that same old Indian use horned-owl talk, 

 wolf and beaver and woodpecker talk, and several 

 other dialects of the wood folk, in the same fascinat- 

 ing and convincing way. 



One must judge, therefore, that most cries of the 

 day or night have their meaning, if only one knows 

 how to hear them; yet they constitute but a part, 

 and probably a very small part, of the animal's 

 habitual communication with his fellows. The 

 bulk of it appears to be of that silent kind which 



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