THE OURANG-OUTANG AND THE BAGPIPES.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXIX, Issue 9028, 5 November 1892, Page 10 (Supplement)

THE OURANG-OUTANG AND THE BAGPIPES.

A correspondent of the Spectator, who has been making experiments with various musical instruments on the animals at the Zoological Gardens, writes as follows with regard to one of his latest tests Our first visit was paid to "Jack," the young red ourang-outang, which, since the death of "Sally," the chimpanzee, claims the highest place in animal organisation among the inmates of the Zoo. Ho is a six-months'-old baby, of extremely grave and deliberate manners, and perhaps the most irresistibly comical creature which has aver been seen in London. He is extremely well-behaved, not in the least shy, and as friendly with strangers as with his keeper. His arms a'-e as strong as those of a man, while his legs and feet seem to be used less for walking than a subsidiary pair of arms and hands. He is thus able, when much interested, to hold his face between two hands, and to rest his chin on a third, which gives him an air of pondering reflection beyond any power of human imitation. "He knows there's something up," remarked his keeper as we entered the house, and the ape came to the bars and sat down to inspect his visitors. As the sounds of the violin began, he suspended himself against the bars, and then, with one hand above his head, dropped the other to his side and listened with grave attention. As the sound increased in volume he dropped to the ground, and all the hair on his body stood up with fear. He then crept away on all fours, looking back over his shoulder like a frightened baby ; and taking up his piece of carpet, which does duty for a shawl, shook it out, and threw it completely over his head and body, and drew it tight round him. After a short time, as the music continued, he gained courage and put out his head, and at last threw away the cloak and came forward again. By this time his hair was lying flat, and his fear had given place to pleasure. The piccolo at first frightened the monkey, but he soon held out his hand for the instrument, which he was allowed to examine. The flute did not interest him, but the bagpipes—reproduced on the violin —achieved a triumph. He just flattened his nose against the bars, and then, scrambling to the centre of the cage, turned head over heels, and lastly, sitting down, chucked handfuls of straw in the air and over his head, "smiling," asi the keeper said, with delight and approval