They tried various schemes--failures,
every one. The ants were badly puzzled. Finally they held a
consultation, discussed the problem, arrived at a decision--and this time
they beat that great philosopher. They formed in procession, cross the
floor, climbed the wall, marched across the ceiling to a point just over
the cup, then one by one they let go and fell down into it! Was that
instinct--thought petrified by ages of inherited habit?
Y.M. No, I don't believe it was. I believe it was a newly reasoned
scheme to meet a new emergency.
O.M. Very well. You have conceded the reasoning power in two instances.
I come now to a mental detail wherein the ant is a long way the superior
of any human being. Sir John Lubbock proved by many experiments that an
ant knows a stranger ant of her own species in a moment, even when the
stranger is disguised--with paint. Also he proved that an ant knows
every individual in her hive of five hundred thousand souls. Also, after
a year's absence one of the five hundred thousand she will straightway
recognize the returned absentee and grace the recognition with a
affectionate welcome. How are these recognitions made? Not by color,
for painted ants were recognized. Not by smell, for ants that had been
dipped in chloroform were recognized. Not by speech and not by antennae
signs nor contacts, for the drunken and motionless ants were recognized
and the friend discriminated from the stranger.
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