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, 

 it is 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. 



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