DO ANIMALS THINK AND REFLECT? 



It is as if the psychic world were divided into two 

 planes, one above the other, — the plane of sense and 

 the plane of spirit. In the plane of sense live the 

 lower animals, only now and then just breaking for 

 a moment into the higher plane. In the world of 

 sense man is immersed also — this is his start and 

 foundation; but he rises into the plane of spirit, and 

 here lives his proper life. He is emancipated from 

 sense in a way that beasts are not. 



Thus, I think, the line between animal and human 

 psychology may be pretty clearly drawn. It is not 

 a dead-level Une. Instinct is undoubtedly often 

 modified by intelligence, and intelligence is as often 

 guided or prompted by instinct, but one need not 

 hesitate long as to which side of the line any given 

 act of man or beast belongs. When the fox resorts 

 to various tricks to outwit and delay the hound (if 

 he ever consciously does so), he exercises a kind of 

 intelUgence, — the lower form which we call cun- 

 ning, — and he is prompted to this by an instinct 

 of self-preservation. When the birds set up a hue and 

 cry about a hawk or an owl, or boldly attack him, 

 they show intelligence in its simpler form, the intel- 

 ligence that recognizes its enemies, prompted again 

 by the instinct of self-preservation. When a hawk 

 does not know a man on horseback from a horse, it 

 shows a want of intelUgence. When a crow is kept 

 away from a corn-field by a string stretched around 

 it, the fact shows how masterful is its fear and how 

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