Until recently, science attributed most animal behaviour to instinct and genetic programming. An example would be spiders creating elaborate webs without the benefit of any learning process.

Anthropology, the science of humans, asserted that we had many unique behaviours. Colleagues scoffed at scientists like Jane Goodall 50 years ago when they attributed “human traits” to other species. As a kid in the 1950s, my first inkling of different behaviour arrived in a Scientific American paper. Researchers repeatedly placed and tested single-cell amoebas in mazes, using food as a reward. They concluded  some participants were exhibiting symptoms of “boredom.”

In 1739, writing A Treatise of Human Nature, David Hume offered the philosophical opinion that “no truth appears to me to be more evident, than that beasts are endowed with thought and reason as well as men.” Many people who grew up with dogs, cats, guinea pigs, and other pets would agree.

In 1984, Donald Griffin’s book Animal Thinking pointed out flaws in the imaginary “thinking” wall that humans had built around themselves. It’s since become apparent that many animals and plants adjust their behaviour to solve problems like humans do.

Not just for humans
Tool use was once considered a human trait. Then Jane Goodall discovered that chimpanzees insert twigs into termite mounds to bring out lunch. Scientists have documented at least 15 species of birds using tools. Gulls and crows drop mussels onto rocks and pavement to crack the shells open. Mammals like monkeys use rocks to crack nuts. Sea otters use stones to break open clams. Orange-dotted tuskfish dig clams out of the sand, carry them to rocks, and smash the shells open. Assassin bugs use dead termite bodies to lure and kill termite workers that clear carcasses away from the mound.

Some tool use seems less related to intelligence, and more a function of genetically-based innate behaviour or a simple learning process.

Two decades of animal rehabilitation made it clear to me that many creatures, such as wild bald eagles and owls, quickly come to understand that you are attempting to help them. Instead of resisting, some willingly submit to treatment. And sometimes this happens in the wild.

Sensing intentions
My friend, Celena, while snowmobiling in New Brunswick several winters ago, came upon a snared coyote. The snare was tethered to a tree, allowing considerable maneuvering space. Celena called her father Phil, who soon arrived with a friend. Phil likes animals and began talking softly to the coyote as she repeatedly attempted to flee but could not. As he inched ever closer, talking quietly, the coyote settled down. When his friend began to come closer as well, the coyote erupted with defiance. So, the friend retreated.

Soon Phil was within biting range, and began snipping away at the wire. The coyote remained calm. Multi-strand stainless snare wire was a challenge to sever, but Phil kept talking kindly and snipping away until the animal was free. Once free, the coyote lay there for a time looking at him. Eventually Phil slowly got up, while politely encouraging her to leave. After a moment she did.

Many wild animals I’ve interacted with seem able to sense one’s intentions by observing, listening, and reading our body language. Phil’s friend didn’t like coyotes. Yet she quickly trusted Phil’s intentions. That kind of intuition impresses me. 

Bigger brain not necessarily better
Brain size relative to body size doesn’t seem to matter. Honeybees live complicated lives that deal with many changing honey opportunities. Solo “waggle dancing” in the hive directs others to good sources of nectar.

For another example of invertebrate intelligence, the beautiful documentary, My Octopus Teacher is well worth watching. Have a box of tissues nearby.

Beyond gorillas and chimpanzees, researchers have discovered that ravens, crows, parrots, whales, dolphins, elephants, and many other species exhibit exceptional degrees of intelligence. This may relate to living in complicated environments where they need flexible brains to perceive and capitalize on opportunities. Such awareness can prompt dolphins occasionally to rescue people who are drowning. The mammals understand what’s happening and assist to prevent death.

Why do younger blue jays guide an older, partially blind jay to places to bathe and feed? Why do some animals utter warning cries to others, when their own lives are threatened in the process? Many species modify their normal behaviour based on experience and a perceived need, even if doing so exposes them to danger. 

Silent communication
Altruism and much more can also be found in the plant world. When The Secret Life of Plants, by Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird, was published in 1973, the account of the physical, emotional, and spiritual relations between plants and humans seemed somewhat unbelievable. More recently scientists have published books like Suzanne Simard’s Finding the Mother Tree (2021) and Peter Wohlleben’s bestselling 2015 work The Hidden Life of Trees. These document the underground communion between trees and soil fungi mycelium that enables information and nutritional exchanges to pass between individuals of a species and even with other nearby tree species. Besides a communication network, they form a complicated, interdependent circle of life that exhibits intelligence on a truly mind-boggling scale.

 

Life forms are apparently linked far more than we realize. Species like elephants and whales grieve their dead in a manner similar to humans. Where humans may still stand alone lies in our ability to develop complex concepts regarding the present and future and come up with intricate technologies that enable us to uncover some realities of our universe. This allows us to ponder the future and even the past. Books have long been repositories of our collective knowledge until recently. They’ve served us well. I’m grateful to be writing on a computer that someone else invented. Otherwise, I might be scratching on a rock. 

 

Where human intelligence is failing badly is that, technology aside, we can’t get along with each other. Our brains seem to be wired to the short-term. Rather than conceiving and adhering to long term survival strategies, and adhering to those goals in spite of immediate problems, we often defer to short-term profits and individual well-being instead. The real needs for healthy humans and the planet’s well-being in the long-term are not addressed with necessary actions. 

 

As the world staggers under the collective punch delivered from a burgeoning human population of more than eight billion, we are quickly consuming the planet’s limited vital resources to make profits. With the ability to rationalize anything, humans are still declaring war on innocent people perceived to be standing in the way.

 

Our lack of respect and understanding for other species and ourselves needs improvement. Otherwise chaos will define the 21st century and further defile the planet, its inhabitants, and any prospects for a bright future.