Animal heroes and villains in children’s books, by Elizabeth Kay

 Times have changed. The Story of the Little Mole who Knew it was None of his Business would never have seen the light of day in the 1950s, even though it was a jolly good guide to identifying animal poo. Natural history investigation wasn’t discouraged in the 20^th century, but it was more a case of scoring points over your mates. I-Spy books were actually pretty good, but oh how the order of high and low-scoring birds has changed. Magpies were unusual, and egrets and ring-necked parakeets unknown. Yellowhammers weren’t uncommon at all. The other books I treasured were the Observer books, affordable on a couple of weeks’ pocket money at 5 shillings a go, which tackled everything from Aircraft to Moths, Freshwater Fishes, Birds Eggs and Wild Animals – British, obviously. In those days moles were the villains, who desecrated golf courses and bowling greens, and we even had books in which country types wore moleskin weskits (waistcoats). Foxhunting wasn’t frowned on in pony books, and cub hunting raised no eyebrows. Kids were ‘bloodied’ when they witnessed their first kill. Boys had catapults, and girls played with kittens. Lewis Carroll’s Alice had her own real-life kitten, Dinah. Oh what sexist days they were. Little girls were made of sugar and spice and all things nice, and little boys were made of slugs and snails and puppy-dog tails, which presumably sprang from the practice of routinely docking the tails of some dogs.    

Lions were always heroes (Aslan in the Chronicles of Narnia), and tigers were always villains in one way or another. Shere Khan the tiger in the Jungle Book had a deep hatred of humans (not unwarranted in the hunting days of the Raj, let’s face it.) But even in 1968 Judith Kerr’s The Tiger who Came to Tea had its own disturbing subtext. Snakes, surprisingly, weren’t always the bad guys. Kaa, in the original Jungle Book, was a trusted ally. But Kaa was a python, not really all that dangerous to human beings, whereas Disney changed him into an antagonist, who is always trying to eat the hero, Mowgli. I do wonder whether a depressing ignorance about snakes in general is what led to the change in perception, as venomous snakes are still the cause of tens of thousands of deaths annually in India, but not pythons although really big ones may very rarely take a child. And then of course there’s Genesis to give snakes a really bad name.

Madagascan giant hog-nosed snake, non-venomous constrictor
photographed by me (quite close!)

 Perhaps it’s not surprising that there are more domesticated animals in children’s book than wild ones. Dogs are real hero figures, rescuing people from all sorts of dangerous situations, and horses often perform a similar function. I’m not sure that Black Beauty was originally meant as a children’s book, it was intended to highlight the appalling conditions which many horses endured during the Victorian age, and it did achieve results. The same is true of The Call of the Wild, and the plight of sled dogs. Buck, a domesticated dog kidnapped and sent to the Yukon during the gold rush,  eventually reverts to a better life as the leader of a wolf pack. Humans are not always the best friends of animals. 

Animal characters such as Peter Rabbit and his battles in Mr McGregor’s garden parallel childhood experiences with authoritarian figures, and Winnie-the- Pooh’s  attitude to life is very attractive to kids. Just doing nothing is rarely acceptable to adults, although it has just as much importance to Pooh as honey. (Sweets?) He is very loyal to his friends, who he values a great deal, and they cross boundaries as they are different species. (Although Tigger the tiger has his disadvantages, surprise surprise.)

Robins have featured many times, as they are very tame as well as attentive and successful parents. We identify with them as the good guys, because they are so brightly coloured and have such a delightful song. There are some lovely passages about one in Secret Garden.

…put his head on one side and looked at her so slyly that she asked Ben Weatherstaff a question.

          “Do you think he remembers me?” she asked.

          “Remembers thee!” said Weatherhstaff indignantly. “He knows every cabbage-stump in the garden, let alone th’ people.”

 A robin shows Mary where the key to the secret garden is buried, and then shows her the door to the garden itself. C.S. Lewis used a robin as a guide as well,

 … the robin flew away again to the next tree and once more looked at them very hard. (You couldn’t have found a robin with a redder breast or a brighter eye.)

          “Do you know,” said Lucy, “I really believe he wants us to follow him.”

          “I’ve an idea he does,” said Susan. “What do you think, Peter?”

          “Well, we might as well try it,” answered Peter.

          The robin appeared to understand the matter thoroughly. It kept going from tree to tree, always a few yards ahead of them, but always so near that they could easily follow it…

 Animal characters can be fertile ground for writers, as they don’t usually come with the baggage of different ethnicities, social standing or education. Authors are free to parallel all of these things in subtle ways, and it’s a great pity that writing for children has become the easy option for celebrities to increase their online presence, rather than an art form in its own right for experts who have studied and specialised in the form.