entire life
is spent clinging to the underside of branches, on whose leaves they feed,
may be said almost to be voiceless, so seldom do they give utterance to
the nameless wail which constitutes their only utterance. Even when being
torn to pieces by an enemy, they offer no resistance and emit no sound,
but fold their claws around their body and submit to the inevitable as
silently and as stoically as did ever an ancient Spartan.
Great fear of death will often cause an animal to utter sounds which are
different from those produced under any other conditions. When an elephant
is angry or excited, his trumpeting is terribly loud and shrill; but when
a mother elephant is "talking" to her child, while the same sonorous,
metallic quality is present, yet it is wonderfully softened and modulated.
A horse is a good example of what the fear of death will do. The ordinary
neigh of a horse is very familiar, but in battle when mortally wounded, or
having lost its master and being terribly frightened, a horse will scream,
and those who have heard it, say it is more awful than the cries of pain
of a human being.
Deer and elk often astonish one by the peculiar sounds which they produce.
An elk can bellow loudly, especially when fighting; but when members of a
herd call to each other, or when surprised by some unusual appearance,
they whistle--a sudden, sharp whistle, like the tin mouthpieces with
revolving discs, which were at one time so much in evidence.
The growl of a bear differs greatly under varying circumstances. There is
the playful growl, uttered when two individuals are wrestling, and the
terrible "sound"--no word expresses it--to which a bear, cornered and
driven to the last extremity, gives utterance--fear, hate, dread, and
awful passion mingled and expressed in sound. One can realise the fearful
terror which this inspires only when one has, as I have, stood up to a mad
bear, repelling charge after charge, with only an iron pike between one's
self and those powerful fangs and claws. The long-drawn moan of a polar
bear on a frosty night is another phase; this, too, is expressive, but
only of those wonderful Arctic scenes where night and day are as one to
this great seal-hunter.
The dog has made man his god,--giving up his life for his master would be
but part of his way of showing his love if he had it in his power to do
more. So, too, the dog has attempted to adapt his speech to his master's,
and the result is a ba
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