ODD ANIMAL FRIENDSHIPS.
ODD friendships between animals of different kinds are often seen, but an adventure recorded in Nature by Mr. L. C. Hurst is rather out of the common. It often happens that among all the domestic animals of a farm the donkey is the cleverest, and takes the lead when anything interesting is going on. One of these abarp-witted donkeys, kept in Derbyshire, had learnt how to Open gates, a not uncommon accomplishment of his tribe. Being shut up in a field with two ponies, he soon wanted a change of scene and company, and so opened the gate of his own meadow and walked out with the ponies. He appears to have wished to find another set of companions, for he opened three other gates in order to reach another field where a mare, a foal, and a yearling, all old friends of km, were placed. They no doubt were very pleased to see lin; and the whole party went out for a walk. They were then joined by a mastiff, and they went on their way together exactly as animals are supposed to do in story-books—dog, donkey, ponies, mare, yearling, and foal—" until they met a law; to adopt the style consecrated to adventures of this kuid- Unfortunately the man knew the horses and foal. (There are men in the country who will even recognise particular
pigs when straying, and the eye for identifying horses seems part of the inheritance of most rustics.) He unkindly inter- fered with the walking tour, and rounded up the equine members of it. The donkey, deprived of his friends, then returned home; but the mastiff accompanied him in an entirely detached manner so far as its original owners went, so great was this donkey's power of making friends, and also of keeping them.
As a rule, domestic animals which are much with people prefer their company to that of other animals of any kind. They think them more interesting and distinguished. But if they are not much regarded by those about the house, they are particularly likely to strike up some curious friendship with what would apparently be a very unsuitable kind of com- panion. There was, and is, a dog at Clifton Hampden on the Thames, living at the Bridge House, which is not in the least interested either in people or in boating. Instead of baking and being important when parties arrived at the boating-raft, or helping to take the tolls at the bridge, or generally taking the active and fussy interest in the business of his master which most dogs show, he preferred to associate entirely with a horse and a donkey kept in a meadow next to the bridge. The three friends used to spend all day out in the field, the dog lying quietly curled up asleep in the grass if it were fine, or watching the others graze. If it rained he would go and lie against the back of a shed, where he could see the horse, and to which the latter sometimes also came for shelter. He only appeared at the house when the horse was fetched to be harnessed, when he would trot with the cart, and as soon as the horse returned and was unharnessed, would return with it to the field. In time this dog became so extremely " horsey " in his tastes that he took to eating oats when his friend was fed. It was the custom to put the horse's feed of oats in a tin pan and set this on the floating landing-stage or raft used by boating parties, in order to get the old horse to stand in the water for the benefit of his legs; while at the same time the donkey, which hated water, could not steal the oats. The dog always went down to the raft, and sat on it close to the tin pan while the horse was eating. He would then pick up the spilled-out corns, and carefully crack and swallow them. Both picking up and cracking an oat-corn are rather difficult feats for a dog's mouth and teeth to manage. But he was very expert at this, and used to sit and eat oats till the horse had finished. The latter is now dead, and this scene by the bridge, which used to take place regularly every summer evening, has ceased. The thoroughness and routine with which this dog-and-horse friend- ship continued could probably be paralleled in many other cases. There seems to be a natural liking between these two very different species, just as there is a natural antipathy between dogs and cattle. The latter is some- times explained by an inherited recollection of the destruc- tion of their calves by the dog's relation, the wolf. But as wolves are at least as destructive to foals where horses run loose, the explanation does not seem adequate. The dog's natural attitude towards the sheep is strictly that of a hungry man towards a leg of mutton. He only becomes its guide, philosopher, and friend by training. Yet between shepherd dogs of the best class, such as those on the Northern fells, and their sheep a much closer link exists than between the ordinary mere sheep-driving dog of the South. These fell sheep are very bright, alert creatures, with all their wits about them, and scarcely need more than a hint from the dog as to where they should go. In Penrith on market days in autumn there is a great invasion of sheep, often lambs of the year, which, being bred on the fells, are sold for keeping on the lower ground in winter. Of the three parties to the visit—sheep, dogs, and shepherds—the first are usually quite composed, the dogs almost as much at their ease, and the only members who lose their heads completely are the shepherds, who shriek and scream at their dogs and flocks as if demented. At a cross-road, or if there is much traffic, a sheep sometimes becomes separated from the rest, while the shepherd is frantically waving his arms and stick. The writer has seen one quietly run up beside the dog and push against it, as if to inquire what it had best do. The dog, looking at his master with his tongue out, evidently concluded that he did not know either; but, after waiting still a minute, he trotted up wiitit the sheep alongside of him to the flock.
Perhaps the most incongruous pair of animal friends at present in England belong to the late Lord Lilford's collection of cranes and wildfowl, still maintained at Lilford Hall, near Oundle. A large crane was selected as the object of an intense and jealous affection by a female goose. The goose, which was of a curious Australian species with a very short bill and speckled body, practically annexed the crane alto- gether. When the writer last saw it, it was feeding close by the tell crane, and never went more than a few yards from it, or allowed it to be out of its sight for a minute. If any other crane came near, or any visitor, the goose rushed at it and made as if it would bite. The cranes it did bite, seizing their legs. A mate was found for the crane, and for six months it was kept elsewhere, unseen by the goose. The fresh bird died, and the goose, to whose enclosure the crane returned, at once renewed the friendship. It was quite a personal liking, for there was an unrivalled selection of other cranes to choose from. When a cat and dog become chums one or the other is generally a young one. Their chief object in associating seems to be play or boisterous romps, in which the cat sub- mits to very rough treatment as the dog grows more excited, and always seems to enjoy the sport the rougher it is. We have seen a small cat almost swallowed by a full-grown young
bloodhound, picked up and flung into the air, and swung almost from one side of the room to the other, still renewing the mimic fight, until, when quite exhausted, she would slip under a bureau to get breath. It seemed as if her bones must get broken, yet she was not damaged. An Australian opossum and a setter became most excellent comrades, the opossum lying asleep by the setter on the hearthrug by day, and play- ing with him in the evening. The dog even submitted, though be did not like it, to the opossum washing his face, which it did by licking it all over while it solicitously held the dog's muzzle in its sharp-clawed little paws. The first advances in this case came from the opossum ; but the setter was not a normally minded dog, being rather given to seek friends among the cats, with which it would play at any hour. Mr. Hagenbeck in his Hamburg Menagerie, partly for the pleasure of the German sightseer, and partly to make the animals more cheerful by society, has for many years made "happy families" of the largest carnivore in single cages. The greater part do not do much more than tolerate each other, but the social cement of the whole party is given by the dogs, large but young boarbounds, which are full of play and good-humour, and seem to keep the others in spirits by their example. Probably, as dogs are the most companion- able creatures to man, they also possess the gift of attracting the liking of other animals. One of the most extraordinary instances of this recently noted was described and illustrated in Country Life. A fox cub was brought up among a number of dogs at a house in Wales, with a park and rough cover close to the garden, the latter being a favourite place with the wild foxes to lie by day. The dogs were often taken to draw this cover and rout out the fox. The cub, when full-grown, used to accompany them, and when the fox was started would rush after it in company with the other dogs, which were giving tongue and enjoying all the excitement of a brief fox- hunt.
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