Warning: This post will probably make some of you think that I’m crazy. 😉
The New York Times Magazine recently published a piece called “The Animals Are Talking. What Does It Mean?”, which explores research that shows animals communicate. With language.
This might be surprising to some people. It’s not to me. For decades, I’ve been arguing that animals are just as smart as people, and that they have rich internal lives. We, as a species, like to believe that we are unique. Some of this is inherent anthropocentric myopia. Some of it is residue of religion. Some of it is just plain ignorance. Nearly everyone believes that Homo sapiens is set apart, superior to other creatures.
I don’t believe this. I believe that we are not unique. We are just like the other animals. And the other animals are far more intelligent than most people believe.
More and more, research proves this. I started my (currently broken) animal intelligence blog three months after starting Get Rich Slowly. At the time, news about animal cognition and behavior was, well, rare. I’d find maybe one article a month about the subject. Now it feels as if we’re in the golden age of animal-intelligence research. The news and stories are constant. (Hmmm. Maybe I should revive my broken blog!)
Different But Equal
The New York Times article I mentioned is fascinating. Here’s an excerpt:
With each discovery, the cognitive and moral divide between humanity and the rest of the animal world has eroded. For centuries, the linguistic utterances of Homo sapiens have been positioned as unique in nature, justifying our dominion over other species and shrouding the evolution of language in mystery. Now, experts in linguistics, biology and cognitive science suspect that components of language might be shared across species, illuminating the inner lives of animals in ways that could help stitch language into their evolutionary history — and our own.
This, to me, is a simple, effective summary of the current state of research into animal intelligence. The more we explore the subject, the more we realize humans differ from other animals only in that, well, we’re a different animal. In short, we are not special.
Whenever I bring up the subject of animal intelligence, people try to argue that animals act on “instinct”, implying that humans do not. This always sounds to me as if the other person is arguing that humans have free will but animals live in a deterministic universe. It doesn’t make sense. Whether or not you believe in determinism or free will — and that’s a big debate on its own — the same rules apply equally to all animals.
If you’re religious (or Christian, anyhow), you’ll probably dismiss this idea outright. Your scriptures tell you that Man is special and apart from the other animals. But if, like me, you believe that humans are no different than other animals aside from our current success at over-running the Earth, then it shouldn’t be such a stretch to see that all animals are created equal. Different but equal.
It’s just that for so many years — millennia! — we haven’t taken the time and effort to actually try to understand the animals around us. Now that we’re doing so, scientists are finding that we’ve been far too anthropocentric in our views.
Anyhow, this is an interesting story and a good read.
Animal Intelligence in Real Life
On a related note, I’ve come to realize that the biggest barrier to my dog’s intelligence and ability to communicate is me. Most people “train” their dogs up to a certain point, then stop. I feel as if Kim and I have done better than most in this regard. We’ve continued to teach Tally new things for the entirety of her seven-and-a-half year life. She’s constantly learning new words and concepts. Yesterday, for instance, I taught her to play “hide and seek”. She loves it. Silly dog. (On Sunday, I taught her the word “window” while riding in the car. She learned it after three repetitions. “Window,” I’d say, and she’d turn so that she could stick her head out the window.)
Tahlequah also did something remarkable yesterday. I was downstairs practicing watercolor in the library when I heard Tally whining. I stepped into the basement and there she was, facing the closed “pet closet”.
“What do you want?” I asked. “What is it?” (“What is it?” is one of our keywords with her.)
Tally whined more and stared straight ahead at the closet. So, I opened the door. She immediately lunged forward from her sitting position and nuzzled a package of toy balls on the floor of the closet. These are her favorite “bacon balls”, scented plastic squeaky balls (that only squeak for about ten minutes until she breaks them, thankfully). And the lunge she did was the same lunge she does whenever she’s eager/happy to grab something.
My goofy dog knew there were new bacon balls in the closet, so she asked me to open it so she could have one. (She loves getting a new bacon ball!) And this, of course, is what led me to teach her “hide and seek”.
Okay, here’s another related story, one that I still find hard to believe.
Several years ago, our cat Avery lost his collar. We bought him a new one. He hated it. He was constantly trying to pull it off.
A week or two later, Kim and I were sitting together in the hot tub on the back deck when we heard the scrabble scrabble of Avery climbing over the fence. He hopped down and there in his mouth was his old collar. WTF? Kim and I were amazed — and still are to this day. If either of us had been alone, the other would not have believed this story. But we both saw it.
I got out of the hot tub to replace Avery’s hated new collar with his acceptable old collar. (And that’s the collar he wears now to this day.) The reason Avery wanted the collar off? There was a pointy bit of plastic still in it from the price tag. He was in pain from the new collar, so he retrieved his old collar from the place he knew he’d lost it.
I know, I know. These are merely anecdotes, and they don’t prove a thing. That’s true in isolation. But if, like me, you believe that animals are intelligent, it’s just a glimpse at a tiny part of the Big Picture.
Crazy Man
Like I say, I’ve come to realize that the biggest barrier to my dog’s mental growth is me. She is able and willing to learn as much as I will teach her. She already has a vocabulary approaching 200 words/phrases. But at the same time, I’m learning to “speak dog”. I’ve learned to listen to what she is saying to me.
It’s remarkable the paradigm shift that occurs when you accept the premise that everything your dog does is purposeful. When I view Tally’s actions through that lens, when I view the world through her eyes, everything changes. I’ve come to do this whenever I walk her. It’s made the walks so much more enjoyable because it’s truly as if she and I are having an ongoing conversation about where to go and what to do. (Exception: When she’s in “hound mode”, all bets are off. She’s being a dog and wants no part in communicating with her human. There are squirrels to be had!)
Okay, more anecdata.
When I walk Tahlequah during the summer, I do not carry treats. When she enters “hound mode” — or when she feels strongly about something, such as going a particular direction or extending the length of the walk — she can be very stubborn. She plants her feet, stares at me, and leans the direction she wants to go. I either give in or I squat to explain things to her (which I’m sure people think is crazy).
But during the cooler months (which are just beginning here in Oregon’s Willamette valley), I usually wear a jacket or sweater. And those jackets and sweaters have pockets where I keep dog treats. Tally knows this, and her behavior changes. She still requests that we do what she wants to do — stay out longer, go to her favorite places, seek out squirrels — but she’s more amenable to what I want. She gives in quickly. However, when she acquiesces she “demands payment”. She looks at my treat pocket, asking to be paid for complying. So, I pay her.
Many folks would say that I shouldn’t reward her for doing this sort of thing, that I as the human should be the “alpha” to my dog. I don’t buy the whole alpha thing. And I don’t consider myself to be my dog’s “master”. I’m not superior to her in any way. I’m just another creature who happens to be a part of her pack (along with Kim and Avery). So, I think of these situations as negotiations. I’m stating my will; Tally is stating hers. If I don’t have a good reason to overrule her request, I don’t. We extend the walk or we go to her favorite squirrel spots. It’s no different than when Kim and I try to choose a restaurant. I’m not joking: This is exactly how I view it.
By now, some of you probably think I’m crazy. I don’t care. My belief in animal cognition is one of my most strongly held beliefs. It’s only becoming more strongly held as time goes on.
If this is the case, then why am I not vegetarian? Hold onto your hats, folks, because this is where I really get crazy.
The older I get, the more I suspect that plants are intelligent too. And insects. There have been a couple of recent articles about insect intelligence. And believe it or not there are many books — and a growing body of research — about plant intelligence. My best summary of it is that J.R.R. Tolkien came close to capturing plants when he created the Ents. (I’m not well-versed in the plant intelligence stuff yet, though, so won’t belabor it. I buy the premise, though.)
If plants have intelligence too, if the lines between plant and animal are largely arbitrary, then choosing the position of “ethical vegetarian” (as I did for a year when I was younger) is largely meaningless. If I truly want to keep from harming an intelligent creature, I have to be a “fruititarian”, a person who only eats fruit that has fallen from the tree. (Hat tip to friend Kris Becker who wrote a poem in college that espoused this notion. I found it amusing at the time; less so now.)
Final Thoughts
I don’t expect to have persuaded anyone to my viewpoint through this piece. That wasn’t my intention. But I do hope that I’ve opened a few eyes to the idea that humans might not be so special as a species. There’s plenty of evidence (and more every day) that animals are intelligent, sentient, and capable of behaviors we’ve long classified as human.
Not only that, research is beginning to shed light on the worlds of plant intelligence and insect intelligence.
Am I crazy? I don’t think so. But then I think a lot of other people are crazy for their beliefs while they think they’re sane. So maybe I am crazy. I don’t know.
In any event, it’s time to take Tally for her walk. It’ll be a long one today. “Dog’s choice,” I tell her as we start these long strolls. She does not understand that phrase and probably never will, but she understands plenty of other stuff. (My rule of thumb: If Tally is interested in something, she can learn the word/phrase for it.) Interacting with her as we walk across Corvallis is the highlight of my day, and it’s because I’ve elected to believe that she and I are equals who communicate and negotiate as we enjoy our romps through town.
I think intelligence is a sliding scale or a spectrum. As far as we know, humans are quite intelligent (with some exceptions). Some animals are quite intelligent, but most less so then the average human. And then some animals are less intelligent than other animals. And I would say that plants are much less intelligent than a creature like a cow or a pig.
To me that would mean that you could try to slide your diet towards more vegetable components. It’s not black and white. It could be that your meat consumption goes from say an average 0.5 pounds per day to say 0.2 pounds per day, and your milk from 0.3 pounds per day to say 0.1 pounds per day. That would, in my opinion, be significant progress.
I hear what you’re saying, and that’s the way I used to view things too. The way I explained it was: “Individual members of a species could be anywhere on the bell curve for that species’ level of intelligence. But the average for, say, a pig is lower than the average for, say, a human.” I think that’s what you’re saying here too.
But I’ve changed my way of thinking over the past five years. Now I think there are different types of intelligence. Even among people, we talk about concepts like “emotional intelligence”, etc. And different societies hold different standards for what intelligence means. If you were to transport a Native American from 1700 to today, she might seem pretty stupid to us. Conversely, if I were transported to 1700 Oklahoma, I’d appear very dumb.
Well, I think the same is true with animals. We can say that a dog isn’t as smart as a person, but that’s just because we’re classifying intelligence based on what we, as humans, want and value. To a dog, though, we probably seem stupid at times. “Can’t you smell that there’s a deer over there?!?” “Couldn’t you hear me barking to warn you about the strange dog in the yard?” And so on. Similarly, cats probably think we’re pretty stupid because when they bring us mice/birds from outside in order to teach us to hunt, we just don’t seem interested. “Come on, human. I brought you this prey. Catch it!”
Each species has a different frame of reference and a different kind of intelligence. Or that’s what I believe, anyhow. The real magic is when one species learns to communicate with another. This is an elevated for of empathy. It requires putting yourself in another creature’s position, to think from their perspective and to see with their eyes. When you do this, you get a glimpse at what it must be like to be a dog or a cat…or a tree.
I don’t think you’re crazy. Or if you are, the I must share in your craziness.
With respect to eating animals, well, we are animals and animals eat other animals, so perhaps we are meant to eat animals. What animals don’t do is overeat, kill other animals for reasons other than satisfy their hunger, be cruel to the animals that they kill for food etc. I still eat meat but I eat a LOT less of it and I never forget that I am eating a sentient being that was sacrificed so that I could live.
My theory/approach is evolving, it has changed over time and will no doubt change in future, but this is the point I’m at today.
With respect to communicating with animals, I love to just sit and watch my animal room mates. Watching an animal problem solve leaves no doubt in my mind that there is intelligence there.
Meh. I’ve seen plenty of fat animals in my life. They overeat if they’re able. I’ve also known plenty of animals who kill for sport. My dog, for instance. And my cats. But generally I agree with your sentiment. Humans take it to an extreme.
And yes! to watching animals problem solve. Yesterday, I continued to work with Tally on our game of “hide and seek”. She understands it as a keyword now, but the game is a bit tough for her. So I’ve simplified it. Instead of using a bacon ball, I’m using a high-value food reward: pieces of pepperoni stick, which she loves. And I’m hiding the pieces in obvious places. I make her sit-stay in one room, then hide a piece of pepperoni stick in an obvious place in another room, then I release her to go find it. So fun to watch her work. Snuff snuff snuff snuff snuff. She tends to return to the most recent places I hid a piece, and she’s easily frustrated. She looks to me for help a lot. I give her tiny hints but try not to be too obvious. When I showed this new game to Kim last night, Kim was a suck — and Tally knew she would be. Tally just kept looking to Kim for help, and Kim would give it. So funny.
I don’t know that I believe all animals are intelligent, but dogs and cats are.
My dog Phoenix as about 6 months old when she started herding my older dog (by request) when she’d wander off. She figured out how to open the windows in my car AND carried that information over to several other cars AND taught the next dog how to do it.
Weird. I’m wishing the comments section here had emoji reactions (like Apple’s message app or Facebook) and @ tags. Anyhow, pretend I gave you a ♥ emoji.
Regarding plants, maybe you’ll enjoy this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j1cqNDDG4aA
My dog, Wolf exhibited a surely advanced ability to reason and think abstractly. In one instance as we were doing his morning’s business I took out my multi-tool to remove an outdated sign on our trail. We continued our walk for another twenty minutes and were returning. Wolf was off his lead and stopping to sniff occasionally. We were about to go on the road where I usually hooked him up for safety but, He had stopped about ten meters back in the middle of the trali just looking out to middle distance. I tried calling him but he wouldn’t come. Another dog walker was heading our way and also called Wolf to follow with him; nothing doing. I walked back and hooked him up pulling him. He wouldn’t move. Our friend was laughing at stubborn Wolf just standing there. My friend said there was something on the ground between his paws. I looked down and there was my multi-tool. It had fallen out of the leather pouch at my belt. My friend and I were astounded. Wolf communicated to me that he was just doing his job. Yes, we could communicate.
When he was fourteen, he would sleep more. One day he didn’t get up for his walk. I hooked him up but he wouldn’t get up. Then he looked at me and communicated that he was very tired and that it was his time to go.
I love this entire comment. Seriously, I need to find a plug-in that lets us to “heart” emojis and other now-standard responses. Wolf was a Good Boy.
My dairy goats definitely were intelligent. One figured out how to maneuver the latch on a gate and let some of her buddies into a pen then close the gate from the outside so that they could not get out. They knew who they could cajole into extra feed. They knew how to get me to find their favorite foliage to eat. What fun they were.
I truly understand your thinking here, I have always tried to communicate with my dogs and my little Cooper, a minature poodle, was the best at it. When he was 2 years old, my husband got me a puppy and the puppy would follow Cooper all the time. When Cooper had enough of this he would go to the back door, ring the bells, the puppy would come running and at the last minute Cooper would step aside and the puppy would run out the door, then Cooper would look up at me to close the door and when I did he would happily walk away. It took a month at least before the puppy would know better and stop, but 9 years later this till makes me laugh to think about. Cooper passed away this past summer and I wonder if I will ever have another one who I understood and I felt understood me as well he did.