object, as soon as he can be induced to smell it. There is a great
deal of speculation in the eye of an animal, but very little
science. Then you cannot catch an animal's eye; he looks at you,
but not into your eye. The dog directs his gaze toward your face,
but, for aught you can tell, it centres upon your mouth or nose.
The same with your horse or cow. Their eye is vague and indefinite.

Not so with the birds. The bird has the human eye in its clearness,
its power, and its supremacy over the other senses. How acute their
sense of smell may be is uncertain; their hearing is sharp enough,
but their vision is the most remarkable. A crow or a hawk, or any
of the larger birds, will not mistake you for a stump or a rock,
stand you never so still amid the bushes. But they cannot separate
you from your horse or team. A hawk reads a man on horseback as one
animal, and reads it as a horse. None of the sharp-scented animals
could be thus deceived.

The bird has man's brain also in its size. The brain of a song-bird
is even much larger in proportion than that of the greatest human
monarch, and its life is correspondingly intense and high-strung.
But the bird's eye is superficial. It is on the outside of his
head. It is round, that it may take in a full circle at a glance.

All the quadrupeds emphasize their direct forward gaze by a
corresponding movement of the ears, as if to supplement and aid one
sense with another. But man's eye seldom needs the confirmation of
his ear, while it is so set, and his head so poised, that his look
is forcible and pointed without being thus seconded.