Mother of Demons by Eric Flint

He winced. “Even though, in so doing, I will bring down upon my head the most ancient and feared curse known to Man.”

“What’s that, Julius?” asked Hector.

” `Hell hath no fury like an amateur scorned.’ ”

When the laughter died down, Julius sat erect in a magisterial pose, his index finger pointed to the sky.

“I pronounce these critters—Maiatherium manuelii. We can call them `maia’ for short.”

“What does it mean?” asked Indira.

“Manuel’s good mother beasts.”

She had liked the name, as had the others. (Adams had snorted, but even he adopted the name within two days.)

Still, Julius was unable to convince them of his thesis. As much as the colonists had confidence in him, there just seemed too many facts about the maia which pointed in the opposite direction.

First and foremost, the maia used no tools. None. Even Julius was forced to admit, after carefully studying them for weeks, that he had not observed even a temporary use of casual tools, such as chimpazees exhibit when they dig for ants with a stick.

Second, there was the placidity of the creatures. No one for years had believed in the preposterous concept that humanity evolved from “killer apes.” Dart’s thesis—popularized by Ardrey—had been exploded two centuries earlier, when more careful study had shown that the australopithecenes were prey rather than predator. But still, it was difficult to imagine a species evolving into intelligence without some instinct for aggression. And, for all their size and strength, the maia exhibited not a trace of belligerence.

Adams had explained the phenomenon, in his inimitable style, as being due to the fact that they were herbivores.

Julius was no longer even pretending to hold Adams in anything but contempt.

“Is that so, Doctor Adams. Tell me something—are you a big game hunter?”

“Certainly not!”

“Didn’t think so. Neither am I. But I know my natural history. Are you aware, Doctor Adams, which of the earth’s great animals was most feared and respected by the old big game hunters?”

Adams sniffed. “The tiger, I suppose.”

Julius sneered. “No, Doctor Adams. The Cape buffalo. A pure vegetarian.”

“Is that a fact, Julius?” asked Hector with interest.

The sneer was replaced with a smile. Julius liked Hector. The pilot’s skills were utterly useless now, but the young Mexican had proved to be an energetic and resourceful member of the colony.

“Absolutely. It’s one of the great myths, this idea that you can directly derive a creature’s temperament from its diet. Absolute nonsense! `Carnivores are mean and nasty, herbivores are sweet and kind.’ ” He said the words in a childish sing-song.

“You ever seen a bullfight, Hector?”

“Hey, c’mon, Julius. We don’t have bullfights in Mexico anymore. Haven’t had for almost a hundred years. Believe it or not, we’ve even given up human sacrifice.”

Julius grinned. “I know, Hector. But don’t lie to me. I’m sure you’ve seen videos. I have. One of the cruelest pastimes our species ever invented, but you can’t deny it’s fascinating.”

Hector nodded.

“Okay. Does a bull eat meat? Nope. Would that make you feel any better, climbing into the corrida with just a cape and a sticker?”

“Hell, no!”

“Me neither.”

Indira had interjected herself into the discussion.

“But those fighting bulls were bred that way, Julius.”

The biologist shrugged. “True. So what? You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Evolution isn’t magic. The potentiality has to be there in the first place. The fighting bulls of Spain were the product of a breeding program, true. But the program wouldn’t have succeeded if bulls didn’t have a capacity for violent aggression in the first place.”

He poked the smoldering moss with a stiff reed, stirring it back into sluggish flame.

“What I wouldn’t give for a cord of pine,” he muttered. “Hell, I’d settle for a bagel. Burn better’n this crap.”

Laying the reed down, he continued.

“It’s true down the line, folks. Carnivores are aggressive in a particular way because they have to be to survive. But they have no monopoly on the trait.”

“I agree,” said Adams firmly. “It is well known that human beings are the most aggressive animals known, and we are omnivores.”