How much of an animal's conduct comes from instinct, and how much is taught to it? Take a little colony or family of grey squirrels. For a couple of years, three of them were regular raiders of the bird feeding devices at a house in the country. They would shinny, head first, down the wires or ropes holding the feeders and manage with their teeth to get some nourishment. Also picking up bits and pieces from the ground. But when the dog growled or appeared at the window they were off like a shot by the highest route, along the branches of the trees where the feeders were and then, with a huge leap, to a hedge which led to the outside territory.
The leap was spectacular, and sometimes the branch would bend down, almost to putting them within reach of the dog - if the dog had been out. For some months, then, they were missing. Shot? Poisoned? Just died out? Or had moved house. Then, a week or two ago, one is back. A small one. Alone. And when it had finished eating, it went towards the trees where the original lot had come from, but lolliping dangerously, across the cut grass of the paths along the river. If the dog had been out, the squirrel wouldn't have had a chance. Now the earlier lot touched ground only briefly when picking up nut debris. Never, ever, did they leave or come by any route but the overhead road of trees and hedge. This young arrival might not last long.
It hadn't been taught by its parents, you conclude.
Another animal making itself very conspicuous, was in the Dublin suburbs. A friend going out with a small nightly offering to the badgers or wild cats or even the birds next morning, heard an odd sound as he came around the corner of his house. Loud, and it echoed off the walls of the nearby estate. Was it someone using a scraper to remove ice from his yard or car? Nearer, it sounded a bit like wood clappers being beaten together. Then, of course, the sound had to be some animal.
It was a harsh and very loud chattering, fierce in intensity. Suddenly there was visible in a bed of small trees and bushes, the heaving evidence of some struggle. Next, two foxes are on their hind legs, clawing at each other. For all the world like boxers. Like hares at mating time. Our friend came into their vision and they took off one north, one south. Now we know that, at this time, the night calls of foxes are banshee like. Blood curdling, like a child being murdered. But this sound was new to our friend. Violent, loud chattering is his final summary. And very loud indeed.
That's foxes for you.