Animal Intelligence

Abstract

THE following instance of animal intelligence may interest some of your readers. While walking through the forest here the other day, I found a young jay upon the ground scarcely able to fly. As I stooped down to examine it I was somewhat startled by a swoop made at my head by the old birds, their wings actually touching my hat. Determined not to be driven away, I remained by the young bird, whereupon a succession of like swoops were made at my head; these I easily succeeded in parrying with my stick, although the old birds frequently came in different directions. After about a couple of minutes the old birds seem to have come to the conclusion that nothing could be achieved in this fashion, and one of them, flying to some little distance, kept calling to the younger one, who half hopped, half flew after her. I of course followed; and now occurred what seems to me a striking instance of animal sagacity. The pines here are covered with lichen and a long, hairy kind of moss, which easily crumbles into dust. The cock bird perched himself on the tree over my head, and began pecking with wonderful rapidity at this lichen and moss, so that, the moment I looked up, a shower of fine dust fell on my face. As I followed the young bird, the old one followed me, got on a branch as close to my head as he could, and sent a shower of dust down upon me. I can scarcely doubt that the dust, like the previous swoops, was intended rather to blind me than to distract my attention. Have instances of like sagacity—i.e. the apparent knowledge of the organ of vision and the means of injuring it—been noticed in jays before?