The even-toed section of hoofed animals is a much larger group than the odd-toed, and the difference may be illustrated by looking at the great work on Natural History by Lydekker. There are 273 pages given up to this group and only 112 to the odd-toed, and when we remember that there are contained in it the hippopotamus, all the pigs, oxen, sheep, goats, antelopes, camels, llamas, giraffes and deer, we can see that Lydekker was well justified in the great amount of space devoted to them. But we all have our different forms of penchant, and I propose to say very much less about this section than about the other represented by the domestic horse. It is well to claim the shelter of a great name in such an apportionment of interest, and Professor Poulton has given a clear precedent in his great book called Essays on Evolution. It contains 393 pages and even though the subject of the work is Evolution, he has given up 330 pages approximately, or five-sixths, of his space to insects. This can be gathered from a rough analysis of his various essays, and no one need blame a great biologist for having a penchant for the subject he knows best, or a small one for writing of that he knows a little.

The reason that the even-toed ungulates require less study from the present point of view is that they are so much more marked by the normal or primitive slope of hair than the previous group of Chapter IX. They demonstrate very widely and thoroughly the empire of the primitive or “barbarian” forces and so far are valuable witnesses of the negative kind. No case can well be proved to satisfac­tion by a large series of negatives, and this was the hopeless task Weismann set out to prove, when he staked his all on the non-inheritance of acquired characters—and failed. But negative evidence is of great value in supporting an hypothesis when it is found to be the precise complement to extensive positive evidence brought in favour of that hypothesis. That is the case in regard to the patterns of hair found on oxen, sheep, antelopes, gazelles and deer, to say nothing of hippopotami, pigs and llamas. There are some of these patterns described in the previous group which appear in this larger one, but for size, persistence and frequency they cannot be compared to those of the horse, who has, if I may so say, inherited all the family property in his own person and added to it.

The variations in the present group are fully dealt with in the two earlier books already quoted,52,53, and I will not complicate this chapter by any further remarks on them.

Oxen.

Of the numerous divisions of even-toed ungulates the oxen present the best cases for study of the various ways in which the hair is disposed, and among them the best as well as the most accessible is the domestic ox. Again we have a familiar friend of man and innumerable specimens for examina­tion as in the case of the horse. So this chapter will, like the preceding one, resolve itself into the study of one typical animal, with whose habits of life we are intimately acquainted.

Before describing the habits and hair of the domestic ox or cow, I would like to point out why I value so highly the negative evidence which consists in the comparative rarity of whorls, featherings and crests in even-toed ungulates. This brings us back to the general fact of the raison d’Être of the horse and his group on the one hand, and the ox and his numerous relatives on the other. There are deer, antelopes and gazelles which for a spurt would beat any horse and even the Thibetan wild ass, so I am not trying here to disparage the power of this graceful swift group in the matter of sprinting. But this term, however colloquial it may be, clearly marks off the powers and habits of deer, antelopes and gazelles from those of the horse, for, except when trying to escape from an enemy, no deer, antelope or gazelle is fool enough to sprint or even trot for mere pleasure or want of occupa­tion, and certainly not in the service of man. Thus it comes to pass that animal pedometers are few and small in this second group of ungulates, and I submit this negative fact gives strong support to the views advanced throughout this volume.

A Cow’s Habits.

A cow is a very restful animal except when disturbed by extraneous causes, and the active habits of her life are of little interest here, the chief importance of her for study being the passive side of her life or small minor tricks. As a domestic animal she lives to eat—and be eaten and drunk—but her wild ancestors and relatives have had far from an easy life, though this (in them even) has not expressed itself in animal pedometers. But on her neck, back, flanks, legs and haunches the cow has some interesting specimens of areas where the normal hair-slope is reversed in accordance with her habits.

The most striking of these is shown in Figs.34 and 35, where the bare form of the animal is shown and the dark thick arrows are made paramount in order to make the remarkable arrangement of her hair along the back so clear, that little verbal descrip­tion is needed.

Behind the level of the horns the normal or backward slope proceeds until the middle of the length of the neck is reached, when it encounters transversely a sharp upstanding crest and beyond this the hair is directly reversed from a point over the shoulders, and here a whorl is found. From this point the stream returns to its ancient and normal course and so passes to the tail. When the base of the tail is reached a very significant and apparently whimsical arrangement of the hair down the centre of the tail is observed. This consists in a line of stiff hairs which stand up at right angles to the surface of the tail, and it gradually passes into the normal again when the more muscular part of the tail is passed. I should add here that the crest and reversed hair on the back are common to many wild ungulates of this ruminant group, and a good example of it is seen in an antelope, Oryx Beisa, which I figured and described in a paper at the Zoological Society of London.

Arrangements of its hair so audacious as these need explana­tion, and it is found in the mode of life of the cow. So large a part of its daily life is spent in the business of grazing with her muzzle close to the ground, during which the neck of the animal is constantly stretched downwards from the back at the level of the shoulders, that the skin, which is very loose in this and most other portions of its body, is dragged upon to allow of the extreme flexion of its neck. This traction is for all this time acting against the normal or backward slope of the hairs, and has given rise to this victory of a new force through a thousand generations. It is equally clear that a mechanical explana­tion of the line of erect hairs on the first nine or twelve inches of the tail is forthcoming, for one has only to watch a cow standing on a hot day, undergoing her torment of flies, to see it writ large. Very strong little muscles are found at the base of the tail, those along the more free portion becoming smaller and smaller until they disappear towards the tip. These give a powerful flicking action to the long heavy tail and I once made some observations as to this on a number of cows which were grazing in summer on a comparatively cool wind-swept hillside in the western end of the Isle of Wight. I watched several cows on different occasions and found that one would flick her tail 348 times and another 1082 times per hour. Giving these cows an eight hours’ working day, “working” for their living in grazing and ruminating by turns, one gains a vivid idea of the number of times per diem these powerful muscles of the tail contract. If we call it a day of four hours of grazing and four of ruminating, for the sake of argument, we get 1392 to 4328 flicks of the tail each day in the time of flies, leaving out of account the casual flicks in which she would indulge when flies were not tormenting her. It is hardly necessary to point out how the underlying muscles would drag upon the skin of the tail over them and gradually reverse more or less the “lie” of the hairs. They have not formed into a feathering or complete reversal, but have come near to it.

Further down the haunches of the cow there is on each side at the back of the thigh a curving reversed area of hair which turns upwards and towards the middle line. This is the place where the tail as it swings from side to side sweeps over the limb and brushes upwards the hair of the thigh towards which it is swinging. So that the activity of the tail is responsible for another of the patterns in which the cow’s hair is arranged.

The lower segment of the hind leg exhibits one more reversed area of hair due to the cow’s habit of lying on the ground slightly inclined to one side, for the more comfortable disposing of her limbs, the effect of this attitude being seen in the manner in which the hair on the back of the leg turns inwards.

On the dewlaps and flanks are certain variable curls and turns of hair produced by the frequent twitchings of a muscle situated just under the skin called the “Fly Shaker” or panniculus carnosus. This muscle is seen any day in the carcase of an ox hanging up in a butcher’s shop, and it is interesting to notice the fact that it is distributed over only the lower half of the flank, for the purpose of shaking off flies from a region which the tail does not reach efficiently. None of this sheet of muscle is found within the effective range of the cow’s light artillery, as on the haunches or hinder portion of the spine. This sums up the equipment of patterns of hair on the species of this group of ungulates, which is more adorned with them than any I have examined, and it will be admitted that compared with those of the horse, it is a poor exhibi­tion, but one which it is easy to understand if the fundamental principles of this inquiry are kept in mind.

Light Occupations of the Cow.

I watched lately a little act of this drama among a herd of cows on the Stray at Harrogate during a hot day. There were 105 of them and this was what they were doing all day—some were browsing with their muzzles close to the ground, their necks making a considerable angle with the line of their trunks, others standing stock still with their heads raised at a level with the body, gazing vacantly into space, others lying on the grass more advanced in the strenuous work of their day, ruminating with head level, also gazing at nothing in particular, with their bodies gently rolled to one side, their fore legs doubled straight under them and their hind legs planted to one or other side, and a fourth group still nearer the end of the cycle of work, lying with their chins resting on the ground. When this cycle was completed the stages would again be begun, continued and ended. They were flapping their wide ears in various directions, and twitching endlessly the skin of the flanks and dewlaps with their fly shakers. This large group afforded, if one may so describe it, a cinematographic picture of the lives of countless generations of this conservative animal. Conservative as she is, I doubt not that in the long-past ages her quiet though persistent habits had once a battle to wage for the produc­tion of even these mild innovations that I have described. These present fashions must have been well developed three thousand five hundred years ago and have adorned that “calf, tender and good,” which Abraham in the plains of Mamre fetched for the midday meal of his visitors.