I’ve information animal and animal and animal
What is an animal? Professor Seams had asked the question so simply and quietly, and yet it stopped Oram in his tracks. It was something so obvious and intuitive that he found it hard to explain.
He remembered, however, that there had been a brief introductory discussion of exactly this question near the beginning of the Fundamentals of Zoology. He had paid only scant attention at the time he read it, and he struggled to recall it now. Trying stall, he muttered: ”W-well. Animals are living organisms that can move around freely…” The words “locomotion”, “appetite”, and “sensation” came to his mind. ”…that have sensory organs and the need and ability to eat external food, I guess.” He shrugged. ”As a hunter, I always just thought of animals as living things that yielded meat.” He paused. ”I have no idea what an animal is,” he concluded in defeat.
To his surprise, Seams grinned as if pleased by the answer. ”On the contrary, I think that, like everybody else, you have a perfectly good intuitive idea of what an animal is. Scientists try to give the terms they use precise technical meanings, often only with partial success. Your description of what an animal is is as good as any. Tell me, are mortals animals?”
Oram thought a moment. Humans had all the traits he had just described, including the meat bit. However…”Some share those traits I just listed,” he said, ”Cadouri certainly do, as do humans, but tunawa don’t, nor do yludih. And we supposedly all have different sorts of souls. So I guess not.”
Seams wrote something down, then thankfully changed the subject. ”You mentioned meat. Tell me, what, biologically speaking, is meat?”
Oram thought a moment, trying to remember the way the book described things. ”Meat is a…tissue, I guess? Well, it’s mostly muscle. That’s a sort of tissue, right?” He searched the professor’s face for approval, but Seams’ expression remained neutral. The hunter pressed on: ”Mostly muscle. But also some fat and maybe some connective tissues like cartilage. So a group of tissues that’s predominantly muscle.” he added hastily.
Seams nodded. ”Tissue, indeed,” he mused cryptically, as if to himself. Then, somewhat more pointedly, he asked: ”Do you remember what the study of tissues is called?”
Oram did not. ”Tissue-ology?” he ventured lamely, which brought a chuckle from his examiner.
”Histology” supplied Seams. ”That one is pretty obscure, as well.”
The examination continued, and to Oram’s great relief, moved onto topics he was far more knowledgeable of: the breeding cycles of various animals, their diurnal habits (the hunter even got to use the word ‘crepuscular’), dietary habits, food chains, how various animals overwintered. He was even able to startle Seams by pointing out that bears didn’t strictly hibernate, a revelation which caught the sev’ryn gratifyingly off-guard. It was nice to find the shoe, however briefly, on the other foot.
Oram was able to explain the difference between vertebrates and invertebrates, and some other basics of taxonomy. It turned out the Chief Ranger’s knowledge of invertebrates was generally rather spotty, compared to that of vertebrates. He did happen to know quite a bit about locusts, as Professor Seams would have expected from past experience, as well as about bees, which was new to Seams and appeared to impress him, especially when it came to Oram's understanding of bee ecology and human-bee interactions.
Seams would sometimes write something down, leaving Oram to wonder whether he was doing well or poorly with his answers. The Professor wrote a particularly long note after their discussion of bees, which the hunter hoped was a good sign. After a few eternal-seeming trills of writing, the sev’ryn looked up and said: ”Alright, we’re nearing the end. I want to ask some anatomical questions.”
As with most other things, Oram knew quite a bit about the innards of fish, mammals, birds, even turtles, but nearly nothing about those of invertebrates. He did at least remember that the study of insects was called “entymology”. Thankfully, Seams did not dwell on these issues, nor reproach him for his inability to say the first thing about the digestive systems of squids or earthworms. Instead he asked:
”I’ve heard people say that a cow has three stomachs; is that true?”
Oram smiled as he thought a bit how best to reply. ”I’ve heard that, too,” he said. ”It probably depends on how exactly you count stomachs, but my first inclination is to say ‘no’. Cows have a very large stomach with several compartments or lobes, but they don’t have several distinct structures like a crop or a gizzard. But it looks like just one stomach to me. And I’ve seen a few.”
Seams made a quick note this time, then asked his next question:
”Name three bones or skeletal features that other animals have that humans don’t.”
