WAYS OF NATURE 
whole body; his abdomen fairly palpitates with the 
effort. 
The coon knows when the corn is in the milk, 
gaining that knowledge, no doubt, through his nose. 
At times he seems to know enough, too, to cut off 
his foot when caught in a trap, especially if the foot 
becomes frozen; but if you tell me he will treat his 
wound by smearing it with pitch or anything else, 
or in any way except by licking it, I shall discredit 
you. The practice of the art of healing by the 
application of external or foreign substances is a 
conception entirely beyond the capacity of any of 
the lower animals. If such a practice had been 
necessary for the continuance of the species, it 
would probably have been used. The knowledge 
it implies could not be inherited; it must needs 
come by experience. When a fowl eats gravel or 
sand, is it probable that the fowl knows what the 
practice is for, or has any notion at all about the 
matter? It has a craving for the gravel, that is 
all. Nature is wise for it. 
The ostrich is described by those who know it in- 
timately as the most stupid and witless of birds, and 
yet before leaving its eggs exposed to the hot African 
sun, the parent bird knows enough to put a large 
pinch of sand on the top of each of them, in order, 
it is said, to shade and protect the germ, which 
always rises to the highest point of the egg. This 
act certainly cannot be the result of knowledge, as 
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