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 line. 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 
intelligence, —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 intelligence. 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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