60 BIEDS AND POETS 



must have been, and doubtless was, an actual flight 

 under water, and half as fast as the crow flies in 

 the air. 



The loon would have delighted the old poets. 

 Its wUd, demoniac laughter awakens the echoes on 

 the solitary lakes, and its ferity and hardiness are 

 kindred to those robust spirits. 



One notable difference between man and the four- 

 footed animals which has often occurred to me is 

 in the eye, and the greater perfection, or rather su- 

 premacy, of the sense of sight in the human species. 

 All the animals — the dog, the fox, wolf, deer, cow, 

 horse, etc. — depend mainly upon the senses of hear- 

 ing and smell. Almost their entire powers of dis- 

 crimination are confined to these two senses. The 

 dog picks his master out of the crowd by smell, and 

 the cow her calf out of the herd. Sight is only 

 partial recognition. The question can only be set- 

 tled beyond all doubt by the aid of the nose. The 

 fox, alert and cunning as he is, will pass within a 

 few yards of the hunter and not know him from 

 a stump. A squirrel will run across your lap, and a 

 marmot between your feet, if you are motionless. 

 When a herd of cattle see a strange object, they are 

 not satisfied till each one has sniffed it; and the 

 horse is cured of his fright at the robe, or the meal- 

 bag, or other object, as soon as he can be induced 

 to smell it. There is a great deal of speculation in 

 the eye of an animal, but very little science. Then 



