Beautiful Joe [99]
animals know, and the men run when they hear it. You'd see every cow
in this stable turn its head, if he whistled in a certain way outside. He says
that he got into the way of doing it when he was a boy and went for his father's
cows. He trained them so that he'd just stand in the pasture and whistle, and
they'd come to him. I believe the first thing that inclined me to him was his
clear, happy whistle. I'd hear him from our house away down on the road, jogging
along with his cart, or driving in his buggy. He says there is no need of
screaming at any animal. It only frightens and angers them. They will mind much
better if you speak clearly and distinctly. He says there is only one thing an
animal hates more than to be shouted at, and that's to be crept on to have a
person sneak up to it and startle it. John says many a man is kicked, because he
comes up to his horse like a thief. A startled animal's first instinct is to
defend itself. A dog will spring at you, and a horse will let his heels fly.
John always speaks or whistles to let the stock know when he's approaching."
"Where is uncle this afternoon?" asked Miss Laura.
"Oh, up to his eyes in hay. He's even got one of the oxen harnessed to a hay
cart."
"I wonder whether it's Duke?" said Miss Laura.
"Yes, it is. I saw the star on his forehead," replied Mrs. Wood.
"I don't know when I have laughed at anything as much as I did at him the other
day," said Miss Laura. "Uncle asked me if I had ever heard of such a thing as a
jealous ox, and I said no. He said, 'Come to the barnyard, and I'll show you
one.' The oxen were both there, Duke with his broad face, and Bright so much
sharper and more intelligent looking. Duke was drinking at the trough there, and
uncle said: 'Just look at him. Isn't he a great, fat, self-satisfied creature,
and doesn't he look as if he thought the world owed him a living, and he ought
to get it?' Then he got the card and went up to Bright, and began scratching
him. Duke lifted his head from the trough, and stared at uncle, who paid no
attention to him but went on carding Bright, and stroking and petting him. Duke
looked so angry. He left the trough, and with the water dripping from his lips,
went up to uncle, and gave him a push with his horns. Still uncle took no
notice, and Duke almost pushed him over. Then uncle left off petting Bright, and
turned to him. He said Duke would have treated him roughly, if he hadn't. I
never saw a creature look as satisfied as Duke did, when uncle began to card
him. Bright didn't seem to care, and only gazed calmly at them."
"I've seen Duke do that again and again," said Mrs. Wood. "He's the most jealous
animal that we have, and it makes him perfectly miserable to have your uncle pay
attention to any animal but him. What queer creatures these dumb brutes are.
They're pretty much like us in most ways. They're jealous and resentful, and
they can love or hate equally well and forgive, too, for that matter; and suffer
how they can suffer, and so patiently, too. Where is the human being that would
put up with the tortures that animals endure and yet come out so patient?"
"Nowhere," said Miss Laura, in a low voice "we couldn't do it."
"And there doesn't seem to be an animal," Mrs. Wood went on, "no matter how ugly
and repulsive it is, but what has some lovable qualities. I have just been
reading about some sewer rats, Louise Michel's rats "
"Who is she?" asked Miss Laura.
"A celebrated Frenchwoman, my dear child, 'the priestess of pity and vengeance,'
Mr. Stead calls her. You are too young to know about her but I remember reading
of her in 1872, during the Commune troubles in France. She is an anarchist, and
she used to wear a uniform, and shoulder a rifle, and help to build barricades.
She was arrested and sent as a convict to one of the French penal colonies. She
has a most wonderful love for animals in her heart, and when she went home she
took four cats with her. She was put into prison again in France and
in this stable turn its head, if he whistled in a certain way outside. He says
that he got into the way of doing it when he was a boy and went for his father's
cows. He trained them so that he'd just stand in the pasture and whistle, and
they'd come to him. I believe the first thing that inclined me to him was his
clear, happy whistle. I'd hear him from our house away down on the road, jogging
along with his cart, or driving in his buggy. He says there is no need of
screaming at any animal. It only frightens and angers them. They will mind much
better if you speak clearly and distinctly. He says there is only one thing an
animal hates more than to be shouted at, and that's to be crept on to have a
person sneak up to it and startle it. John says many a man is kicked, because he
comes up to his horse like a thief. A startled animal's first instinct is to
defend itself. A dog will spring at you, and a horse will let his heels fly.
John always speaks or whistles to let the stock know when he's approaching."
"Where is uncle this afternoon?" asked Miss Laura.
"Oh, up to his eyes in hay. He's even got one of the oxen harnessed to a hay
cart."
"I wonder whether it's Duke?" said Miss Laura.
"Yes, it is. I saw the star on his forehead," replied Mrs. Wood.
"I don't know when I have laughed at anything as much as I did at him the other
day," said Miss Laura. "Uncle asked me if I had ever heard of such a thing as a
jealous ox, and I said no. He said, 'Come to the barnyard, and I'll show you
one.' The oxen were both there, Duke with his broad face, and Bright so much
sharper and more intelligent looking. Duke was drinking at the trough there, and
uncle said: 'Just look at him. Isn't he a great, fat, self-satisfied creature,
and doesn't he look as if he thought the world owed him a living, and he ought
to get it?' Then he got the card and went up to Bright, and began scratching
him. Duke lifted his head from the trough, and stared at uncle, who paid no
attention to him but went on carding Bright, and stroking and petting him. Duke
looked so angry. He left the trough, and with the water dripping from his lips,
went up to uncle, and gave him a push with his horns. Still uncle took no
notice, and Duke almost pushed him over. Then uncle left off petting Bright, and
turned to him. He said Duke would have treated him roughly, if he hadn't. I
never saw a creature look as satisfied as Duke did, when uncle began to card
him. Bright didn't seem to care, and only gazed calmly at them."
"I've seen Duke do that again and again," said Mrs. Wood. "He's the most jealous
animal that we have, and it makes him perfectly miserable to have your uncle pay
attention to any animal but him. What queer creatures these dumb brutes are.
They're pretty much like us in most ways. They're jealous and resentful, and
they can love or hate equally well and forgive, too, for that matter; and suffer
how they can suffer, and so patiently, too. Where is the human being that would
put up with the tortures that animals endure and yet come out so patient?"
"Nowhere," said Miss Laura, in a low voice "we couldn't do it."
"And there doesn't seem to be an animal," Mrs. Wood went on, "no matter how ugly
and repulsive it is, but what has some lovable qualities. I have just been
reading about some sewer rats, Louise Michel's rats "
"Who is she?" asked Miss Laura.
"A celebrated Frenchwoman, my dear child, 'the priestess of pity and vengeance,'
Mr. Stead calls her. You are too young to know about her but I remember reading
of her in 1872, during the Commune troubles in France. She is an anarchist, and
she used to wear a uniform, and shoulder a rifle, and help to build barricades.
She was arrested and sent as a convict to one of the French penal colonies. She
has a most wonderful love for animals in her heart, and when she went home she
took four cats with her. She was put into prison again in France and