170 CHILDHOOD OF ANIMALS 



obtain food. That, however, is a less difficult business, and it is 

 the true hunters of living things that have most to learn. No 

 animal hkes being caught and eaten, and the natural victims of the 

 carnivores have learnt intense wariness. They have acute senses 

 of smell and of hearing, and meet the cunning and strength of 

 their enemies with swiftness and prudence. The young carnivores 

 have to learn to stalk them against the wind, to lie in wait for them 

 at their drinking-places, to make the right springs at the right time, 

 and to strike the right blow with claws or teeth. And whilst they 

 are learning these things from their parents, and coming to a know- 

 ledge of their own weapons, they have also to learn to distinguish 

 between friend and prey, to use their teeth and claws, roughly 

 no doubt but only playfully, with their brothers and sisters and 

 parents, and to reserve the full strength of these for creatures they 

 wish to kill. It would be a shorter and simpler business if they had 

 to develop only their instincts of ferocity, to learn to use their 

 natural powers only for deadly purposes. But they have the double 

 lesson to learn and they do learn it. Certainly, carnivorous animals 

 will engage in fierce contests, especially from motives of rivalry or 

 jealousy, but in this they do not differ from other animals which 

 are not naturally predatory. As a group they are not the most 

 difficult to put together or to keep together, and, except for an occa- 

 sional quarrel over food or over a mate, even the fiercest carnivores 

 associate in peace, and are naturally friendly rather than quarrelsome 

 both with one another and with human beings, or even allied species. 

 The early life of ruminants is extremely different from that of 

 young carnivores. In the first place they are wanderers. They 

 have to travel long distances in search of water ; they must migrate 

 from place to place to find the great bulk of vegetation, of young 

 foliage or herbage that they require as food. Even the large and 

 swift giraffe whose size protects it from all but the most powerful 

 of the carnivores, the strong and savage buffaloes which not infre- 

 quently repulse tigers successfully, the agile goats and mountain 

 antelopes which seek safety on the high pinnacles of rocks, and still 

 more the small and defenceless gazelles and brockets, keep ahve only 

 by incessant watchfulness and by swift flight from their enemies. 

 They have no permanent home, but from day to day, from houl 

 to hour, almost from minute to minute they must be ready to rush 

 off. Their habit of rumination is itself an adaptation to this 

 shifting life. They do not chew their food as they crop it, but as 

 quickly as may be fill their huge paunches with a great 



