galton.org 49
Gregarious and Slavish Instincts
49
I had nearly a hundred of the beasts broken in for the waggon, for
packs, and for the saddle. I travelled an entire journey of exploration on
the back of one of them, with others by my side, either labouring at their
tasks or walking at leisure; and with others again who were wholly
unbroken, and who served the purpose of an itinerant larder. At night,
when there had been no time to erect an enclosure to hold them, I lay
down in their midst, and it was interesting to observe how readily they
then availed themselves of the neighbourhood of the camp fire and of
man, conscious of the protection they afforded from prowling carnivora,
whose cries and roars, now distant, now near, continually broke upon the
stillness. These opportunities of studying the disposition of such peculiar
cattle were not wasted upon me. I had only too much leisure to think
about them, and the habits of the animals strongly attracted my curiosity.
The better I understood them, the more complex and worthy of study did
their minds appear to be. But I am now concerned only with their blind
gregarious instincts, which are conspicuously distinct from the ordinary
social desires. In the latter they are deficient; thus they are not amiable to
one another, but show on the whole more expressions of spite and disgust
than of forbearance or fondness. They do not suffer from an ennui, which
society can remove, because their coarse feeding and their ruminant habits
make them somewhat stolid. Neither can they love society, as monkeys
do, for the opportunities it affords of a fuller and more varied life, because
they remain self-absorbed in the middle of their herd, while the monkeys
revel together in frolics, scrambles, fights, loves, and chatterings. Yet
although the ox has so little affection for, or individual interest in, his
fellows, he cannot endure even a momentary severance from his herd. If
he be separated from it by stratagem or force, he exhibits every sign of
mental agony; he strives with all his might to get back again, and when he
succeeds, he plunges into its middle to bathe his whole body with the
comfort of closest companionship. This passionate terror at segregation is
a convenience to the herdsman, who may rest assured in the darkness or in
the mist that the whole herd is safe whenever he can get a glimpse of a
single ox. It is also the cause of great
