The big and little men and women of the jungle have ever fascinated me. As a child, I used often to romp with cubs attached to the traveling menageries of my parents and grandfather. Most of my boyhood, and virtually all of my youth, was passed in the almost daily companionship of wild animals. At no time have these far-traveled aliens failed to interest me. Indeed, I believe the subject engrosses me more to-day than it ever did. No two members of a species are alike. Their individualities are as clearly marked as are ours of the bigger life. I early learned that certain traits of my animal acquaintances were easily to be likened to qualities of real men and women. Longer acquaintance ripened my knowledge and understanding. Many and many a lion and tiger have I known that were quite as mean andxiv untrustworthy as men. Others I met in plenty who would scorn an unfair advantage. Most of them I found to be fair, considerate, friendly, and genuinely affectionate. In time I learned to understand my fellows of the cages, got as close, perhaps, as it is possible for man to get to mute creatures, and enjoyed the assurance that they understood and appreciated me.
In my earlier years, I didn’t, I fear, altogether appreciate the good fortune of this companionship; but later, when maturity and reflection illumined my way, I was duly grateful for these friends, and, from being fond of but some, gradually grew to love all. Recognizing as I did with my broadening life the limitations of their knowledge of us, I learned not to blame the slow or the rebellious.
At about this period of my career as a trainer and exhibitor, it occurred to me that perhaps I was wrong in being the jailer of these friends; that doubtless their original freedom of forest, desert, and jungle was their right,—one that could not be trespassed upon with honesty. The question of whether Ixv was wrong or right bothered me for a long while, and many an ache I had while wrestling with it. I saw these untamed men and women back in their own; saw them crouching at night in hidden fastnesses, awaiting the coming of prey; saw tragedies of the jungle; recalled too frequent ravages of human life, sometimes from hunger and again through sheer lust. I traced to authentic sources long records of these acquaintances of mine found on their own playgrounds dying and dead from hunger and thirst or the shot of the hunter of sport or gain. I thought, in these reflections, of the horse in his first wild state, of the zebra and the elephant; how these had been reclaimed from truculence with benefit to themselves and humanity. I considered, too, the demands of modern education, the obligations of natural historians, the incalculable value of living objects for study. I knew my friends of the jungle suffered no discomforts with me.
My problem then resolved itself to this: Should I recommit my charges back to their own, and cease abetting further captures, orxvi should I continue to guard and cherish my friends, thus saving them and their weaker neighbors from the certain evils of the wilds?
Surely, I reasoned, their better welfare is assured here with me; they never hunger, thirst, suffer violent deaths, nor administer any. Incontestably they show that captivity is not a hardship. Feeling thus, can I conscientiously abandon them, where by continuing I may benefit them and others.
The result of these and like deliberations was a decision to continue the work of my forebears.
The training of my dumb companions is never cruel,—less so, perhaps, when the difference of organization is considered, than the firmness exercised occasionally in the correction of an evilly disposed child. Kindness is the whip used to lead wild animals to obey. Without it none can be made to understand. With confidence, established and maintained by kindness and gentleness, the most savage beast may be transformed into a willing and even eager pupil. Of course, there are limitations to the intelligence of wild animals.xvii These limitations are pretty clearly established. The pupils are invariably capable of greater understanding and achievement than they are ever called upon to display. It is quite probable that other generations will carry wild-animal training further, but at the stage at which I have stopped I am content. I understand my associates, and know they understand me. I should be sorry to learn that the thoughtful of the public denied to my devotion the instructive and humane incentives that have sustained it.
For some of the matter of the volume, incorporated from an article† on wild-animal training, written after an interview with me, I wish to express my thanks to Mr. S.H. Adams.
F. C. B.
† “The Training of Lions, Tigers, and other Great Cats,” by Samuel Hopkins Adams, “McClure’s Magazine,” September, 1900.