need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of
animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in
civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and
sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We
patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having
taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err.
For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more
complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions
of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall
never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other
nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow
prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.
The Outermost House by Henry Beston