Animal Life in Field and Garden

CHAPTER I. What Uncle Paul Proposes to Talk About

WHAT UNCLE PAUL PROPOSES TO TALK ABOUT

“In these talks that we shall have together,” said Uncle Paul, as he sat with his nephews one evening in May under the big elder tree in the garden, “I propose to designate as ‘friends’ those forms of animal life that, though not domesticated or cared for by us, nevertheless come to our aid by waging war on insects and various other devouring creatures which would in the end, unless their excessive multiplication were kept in restraint by others besides ourselves, eat up all our crops and lay waste our fields; and it is these ravagers of the farmer’s carefully tilled acres that I shall speak of as ‘foes.’

“What can man’s efforts avail against those voracious hordes, multiplying as they do every year to an extent beyond calculation? Will he have the patience, the skill, the keenness of vision necessary for waging successful warfare on the tiniest species, often the most formidable, when the June-bug, despite its far greater size, baffles all his endeavors? Will he undertake to examine his fields and inspect every lump of soil, every spear of wheat, every separate leaf on his fruit-trees? For so prodigious a task the whole human race would be inadequate, even if it united all its efforts to this one end. The devouring hordes would reduce us to starvation, my children, had we not able helpers to work for us, helpers endowed with a patience that nothing can tire, a skill that foils all ruses, a vigilance that nothing escapes. To lie in ambush for the enemy, to track it to its remotest retreats, to hunt it unceasingly, and finally to exterminate it—that is their sole care, their never-ending occupation. Urged on by the pangs of hunger, they are relentless in their pursuit, both for their own sake and on behalf of their progeny. They live on those that live on us; they are the enemies of our enemies.

“Engaged in this work are the martins that just at present are circling over our heads, the bats that fly around our house, the owls that call to one another from the hollow willow trunks in the meadow, the warblers that sing in the grove, the frogs that croak in the ditches, and many more besides, including the toad, which is an object of loathing to most people. Thanks be to God who has given us, to serve as guardians of our daily bread, the owl and the toad, the bat and the viper, the frog and the lizard! All these creatures, wrongfully cursed and shamefully abused by us, and foolishly looked upon with repugnance and hatred, in reality lend us valiant assistance and should take a high place in our esteem. To repair the injustice they have suffered shall be my first duty as we come to each of them in turn. Thanks be to God who, to protect us from that great eater the insect, has given us the swallow and the warbler, the robin redbreast and the nightingale! These, the delight of our eye and ear, creatures of infinite grace—must I again raise my voice in their defense? Alas, yes, for their homes are ravaged by the barbarous nest-hunter.

“It is my purpose now to acquaint you, my children, with these various helpers of man in his labors as tiller of the soil. I will tell you about their ways of living, their habits and their aptitudes, and the services they render us. My object will be attained if I succeed in imparting to you a little of the interest they deserve. I will begin with those that have teeth. But first let us take a glance at the shape and structure of teeth in general; for it is this that determines the kind of food required by the animal.”

CHAPTER II. Teeth

TEETH

“Is it not true,” resumed Uncle Paul, “that each kind of work demands its own special tool? The plowman must have the plow, the blacksmith the anvil, the mason the trowel, the weaver the shuttle, the carpenter the plane; and these different tools, all excellent for the work to which they are applied, would be of no use in any other. Could the mason rough-cast his wall with a shuttle? Could the weaver weave his cloth with a trowel? Evidently not. Is it not true, then, that from the tool one may easily guess the kind of work it does?”

“Nothing could be easier, it seems to me,” replied Jules. “If I see planes and saws hanging on the wall, I know that I am in a carpenter’s shop.”

“And I should know,” said Emile, “from seeing an anvil, a hammer, and a pair of tongs, that I was in a blacksmith’s shop. But if I saw a mortar-board and a trowel, I should look around for the mason.”

“Well,” Uncle Paul went on, “every creature has its special task in creation’s great workshop, where all take part, all work, according to the design of Divine Wisdom. Each species has its mission—I might say its trade to follow—a trade that requires special tools just as does any work done by man. Now, among the innumerable trades of animals there is one that is common to all without exception, the most important trade of all, as without it life itself would be impossible: it is the business of eating.

“But all animals do not take the same kind of food. Some need prey, raw flesh, others fodder; some eat roots, others seeds and fruit. In every instance teeth are the tools used in the work of eating; so they must have the shape appropriate to the kind of food eaten, whether that be tough or tender, hard or easy to chew. Therefore, just as from his tool the artisan’s work may be inferred, so from the shape of its teeth one can usually tell the kind of food eaten by any animal.

“Herbivorous animals are those that live on grass, fodder, hay; and carnivorous animals are those that eat flesh. The horse, the donkey, the ox, and the sheep are herbivorous; the dog, the cat, and the wolf, carnivorous. The food of the herbivorous animal is tough, hard, fibrous, and must be ground for a long time by the teeth in order to be reduced to a paste-like mass suitable for swallowing and, after that, for easy digestion. In this case the teeth in both upper and lower jaw must have broad and almost flat surfaces that will come together and grind the food as millstones grind grain. On the other hand, the flesh eaten by the carnivorous animal is soft, easy to swallow, and easy to digest. All that the animal has to do is to tear it apart and cut it into shreds. So the teeth here must have sharp edges that come together and operate like the blades of a pair of scissors.

“I think I have said enough on that subject. Now, which of you will tell me what kind of food goes with each of the teeth I show you here?”

And Uncle Paul laid before his hearers the two teeth pictured on these pages, with others to follow.

“The first tooth,” said Emile, “is flattened and very wide at the top; it must crush and grind by rubbing against a tooth of the same kind in the opposite jaw. So it is the tooth of an animal that eats fodder.”

“It is indeed,” Uncle Paul replied, “the tooth of an herbivorous animal, a horse.”

“The second,” continued Emile, “is composed of several broad points with edges almost as sharp as knife blades. It must be meant for cutting flesh.”

“Those winding folds that you see in the horse’s tooth—what are they for?” asked Jules. “There is nothing like them in the wolf’s tooth.”

“I was going to tell you about them,” his uncle replied. “If the horse’s teeth had perfectly smooth surfaces, without any roughness to act as a grater, is it not true that in pressing and rubbing, each against the opposite tooth, they would simply crush the fodder or hay as you would crush it between two smooth stones without changing it into fine powder? Millstones, if they were polished like marble tables, would flatten the grain without making flour of it; they must be rough on the surface in order to seize the wheat during the grinding of the upper stone on the stationary lower one and to make it into powder. When by long use the surface is worn smooth, the stones are of no service until they are dented again with the hammer. Well, the folds of a horse’s teeth may be likened to the roughness of a millstone: they project a little above the general surface of the tooth, making a sort of coarse file that tears to pieces blades of grass or hay when rubbed by the opposite tooth.”

“I think I see a danger threatening the herbivorous animal,” put in Jules at this point. “Those projecting folds must soon be worn down by rubbing against one another, just the same as the roughness on the millstone. If smooth millstones can’t make flour without being roughened again, no more can the herbivorous animal’s worn teeth go on grinding.”

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