Читать книгу The Inner Life of Animals - Peter Wohlleben - Страница 15

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TAKE COURAGE!

IF ANIMALS FUNCTIONED only according to fixed genetic programming, then each individual of one species would react the same way under the same circumstances. A certain amount of a hormone would be released that would trigger the corresponding instinctive behavior. But that is not the case, as you probably already know from observing domestic animals. There are courageous and cowardly dogs, aggressive and super gentle cats, jumpy and bombproof horses. The character each animal develops depends on its individual genetic predisposition and, just as importantly, on the influence of its environment, which is to say its life experience.

Our dog Barry was a little scaredy cat. As I have already mentioned, before he came to us he had already been passed along by a number of different owners. For the rest of his life, he was scared of being abandoned, and he always got extremely worked up when he was taken along when we visited friends. If you are a dog, how are you supposed to know whether you’re going to be handed off yet again? He showed his nervousness by panting non-stop, so we finally gave up, leaving the distressed animal alone in the house for a couple of hours instead. When we got back, it was easy to check whether or not Barry was relaxed. He became deaf in his old age and couldn’t hear us arrive, sleeping soundly until he blinked up at us when he felt the wooden floorboards vibrate under our feet. So Barry is an example of an animal that lacks courage, but we wanted to take a look at the opposite trait, and to do that, let’s step out into the woods.

One fawn that had breached a plantation fence along with its mother showed particular courage. I used to erect these fences around areas where storms had toppled trees in monocultures of plantation spruce. In order to allow as natural a woodland as possible to regenerate, forestry workers planted little deciduous trees. These newly planted areas needed to be protected from the greedy mouths of browsers, and that’s why I erected the fences. The wire fences behind which the oak and beech saplings grew were six feet tall. During a late-season storm, a spruce nearby had fallen on one of these fences, flattening it. Deer, including the aforementioned doe and her fawn, had wandered through the gap directly into a land of ease and plenty. No walkers disturbed them there, and they could munch away on the tasty shoots of much sought-after deciduous trees. Things looked a little different to me. The expensive fence was no longer of any use, and the goal to have a halfway natural beech and oak wood one day was fast disappearing. And so, accompanied by my Münsterländer, Maxi, I climbed in after them to drive the freeloaders back out.