WAYS OF NATURE 
witted; but the truth probably is that there was no 
calculation in the matter; the soil drew out or 
dulled the smell of the poison and of the man’s 
hand, and so allayed the wolf’s suspicions. 
I suppose that when an animal practices decep- 
tion, as when a bird feigns lameness or a broken 
wing to decoy you away from her nest or her young, 
itis quite unconscious of the act. It takes no thought 
about the matter. In trying to call a hen to his side, 
a rooster will often make believe he has food in his 
beak, when the pretended grain or insect may be 
only a pebble or a bit of stick. He picks it up and 
then drops it in sight of the hen, and calls her in 
his most persuasive manner. I do not suppose that 
in such cases the rooster is conscious of the fraud 
he is practicing. His instinct, under such circum- 
stances, is to pick up food and call the attention of 
the hen to it, and when no food is present, he in- 
stinctively picks up a pebble or a stick. His main 
purpose is to get the hen near him, and not to feed 
her. When he is intent only on feeding her, he 
never offers her a stone instead of bread. 
We have only to think of the animals as habitually 
in a condition analogous to, or identical with, the 
unthinking and involuntary character of much of 
our own lives. They are creatures of routine. They 
are wholly immersed in the unconscious, involun- 
tary nature out of which we rise, and above which 
our higher lives go on. 
190 
