Animal Intelligence

                                                         Animal Intelligence

 

From dolphins to prairie dogs, ravens to dinosaurs scientists and lay people have been judging sentient beings for centuries, comparing their intellectual abilities to human abilities and always finding the finned, feathered and furry ones wanting. As children, many were taught that the all important opposable thumb, the ability to use tools, problem solving capabilities, our huge cerebral cortex and the fact that people have emotions were the key components that separated apes (read Homo sapiens) from the rest of the animal kingdom. Humans were considered to have superior intellect and were the gold standard by which all other animals were measured. For example, scientists study the ability of African Gray parrots to distinguish colors, number and shape identification skills, and their understanding and proper use of  human language. They conclude, that species’ intelligence is equivalent to a three or four-year-old human child.  Really? Such comparisons have always astounded me. Let’s be trite.  It’s like comparing apples to oranges and everyone knows we aren’t supposed to do that. Think about it. How many bird words do humans know or could know and learn to use correctly?  Using the same logic in reverse, a 57 year old human (me) has the intelligence of a six month African Gray. Hmmmm.

 

Comparing the intelligence of animals to the intelligence of humans is insulting. 

 

Insulting to the non-humans. 

 

Current studies of dolphins, whales, octopuses, Corvidae, prairie dogs, elephants, horses, bees, butterflies, bird flocks, schools of fish- the list is exhaustive-are more enlightened as they are more likely to avoid comparing animals to humans. (Although some very recent studies of dolphins are putting their intelligence on par to humans so such comparisons haven’t been completely abandoned.)

 

Animals (and plants, as it turns out) are fantastic communicators. They are generally far better than humans could ever hope to be. While they don’t always use the correct word or use a word correctly in a sentence humans have the speaking part down. But that doesn’t mean they are good at communicating. Many people ask questions and then tune out the response. Or, they may monopolize a conversation, making it impossible to actually converse. In spite of all the talking, we frequently feel misunderstood because our listening skills are often sub-par or entirely non-existent. In our techno-world, nonverbal communication is also losing ground. Apparently modern people are not learning how to correctly read facial expressions and, in that way, are  “miscommunicating” or misinterpreting moment by moment.  In the wild, in the animal kingdom, lives are lost over such errors. Almost all animals have ways of letting each other know where everyone stands in the “pack.” Some forms of canine communication, as an example, are rather obvious, like a nip or a lick; a growl or an over-pee. Others are more subtle, like the slight shove-out-of-the-way so the dominant animal goes ahead of the others. 

 

Dogs attempt to communicate with people a lot. Most humans understand the basics. There’s the wagging-the-entire-body and dancing around the house meaning, “You’re home! You’re home! You were gone so long. I never thought you’d come back.” Also, the bark-for-food or walks and the wag of the tail and rubbing against legs for attention. The ever useful sorrowful-eyes-begging-for-the-leftovers-on-your-plate is quite popular while the conspicuous pee-on-a-shoe if a dog is, shall we say, pissed, is less popular with humans. 

 

Unlike animals, who do not lie, humans often deny their feelings or misrepresent themselves when confronted. “No, I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.”  Our furry, finned, and feathered friends are usually quite clear about what they want. It’s the humans that often don’t get the message.

 

I love being around these intelligent critters. This week I had the pleasure of house/pet sitting for some friends, Rexxy, an African Gray parrot, Summer, a collie, and Tess, a border collie.  It pleases me that Po and Hanna enjoy being with other people’s animals.  I’ve yet to have a problem with Buddy (now no longer with us) Po or Hanna as they interact with other people’s dogs or birds. Early on, a couple of clients were concerned that their dogs might not do well with mine but after the introductions their worries subsided.  Huge Buddy and nearly as huge Hanna, both so calm and stately, perhaps, set the tone for how the others behave. Their body language is clear and they are predictable in their actions. Po is the one more likely to draw an audible boundary and it’s probably because he is nearly always the smallest dog on the block. He has snapped at dogs during an initial meeting telling them to respect his space but I’ve never seen him bite. And he typically tries to engage another animal only when he wants to play.  In begging for a game, he leaps up at the chin hairs of his larger companions, runs around in circles, sticks his butt in their direction, looks over his shoulder, and wags his tail. He’s got the “come hither” behavior DOWN!  After the initial meet-and-greet he falls in love rather easily with almost everyone. Po is not species centric, homophobic or racially biased.  He has a girlfriend named Carrie Underwood (THE Carrie Underwood of the dog world,) boyfriends named Oliver and Rick, 3 chihuahua besties that live in Colorado, a black cat named Jack-also of Colorado, and while he is fond of Tess and more so of Summer, he is the A #1 FAN of Rexxy. He sits on the dog bed in the office all day (as if it were placed there just for him) making goo-goo eyes at the gorgeous gray bird. I suspect he would be over the moon if she ever said his name. Don’t tell Po but I’m working on teaching her.

 

Po is proof positive that dogs have emotions like love but so are all other dogs animal species. Not only do they show fear, joy, sadness, and love but they are compassionate. In fact, I would argue that they can be far more compassionate than humans. Yesterday I was brushing Hanna’s heavy fur coat. When Summer saw me brushing her friend she ran over to us and began to bark. She jumped up on her back legs, barked sharply and tried to put herself between me and Hanna to prevent the grooming. Summer is a senior dog. She is gentle and generally calm but, at that moment, she had gotten very animated. Summer hates to be brushed. Her body language and barking made me believe she thought I was causing Hanna distress. There was no way to reassure Summer that Hanna was enjoying the attention so I put the brush away. As soon as I did, Summer walked away. Mission accomplished. She had saved Hanna from certain death. 

 

Animals have emotions and they are emotionally intelligent. They tune into the emotions of others and can change their behavior based on the cues they receive. We’ve all heard stories about the person who doesn’t like cats and yet has every cat sit on his lap or rub up against his leg when he encounters one. Most of us have seen the dog slink away, tail between his legs, when his human comes home to a trashed out kitchen or the dog that puts it’s head in your lap when the tears are flowing. As a result of their developed intuition, a large variety of animals are used to provide emotional support for both humans and other animals. Animals are capable of comforting. They are not likely to pass judgement or attempt to get their person to change. They are typically content to sit calmly with her as long as she needs it or to encourage her to play or engage in some way that positively alters her mood. Teachers bring animals into the classroom. Animals are brought into hospitals and nursing homes. Calm dogs are introduced to fearful animals precisely because of their ability to connect emotionally. They are wonderful companions and often easier to live with than humans. 

 

My animal intelligence education will be lifelong, I suspect, and frequently happens when I am not expecting it. This morning, for example, it took a bit of coaxing on my part before the bird and four dogs settled in. Just before I sat down to the I-pad I passed Rexxy a small piece of carrot through the bars of her cage. Then Po scratched at the back door, wanting to come inside. Hanna thought she would come inside, too until Summer gracefully stepped out.  Then Hanna wasn’t sure. She stood at the door alternately looking out, looking in, and looking at me.  So I asked her, “Do you want to come in or do you need to stay outside and take care of Summer?”  Hanna turned around and followed Summer out of the garage. Hanna is a Great Pyrenees and she takes her job as “guardian over all things” quite seriously. She understood exactly what I meant.  Tess was not to be left out. After all, she’s the “herder-in-chief.”  If the other girls were hanging outside then Tess needed to go, too.  She let me know by one sharp, short bark. Then Rexxy, with perfect timing from inside her cage said, “Stop it! Quiet! Good girl.”

 

Everyone has their own way to get the message across.

 

The first time I met an African Gray parrot was in 1987 in West Chicago.  I had recently moved in with a friend of mine who kept two parrots, an African Gray and an Amazon. Liz’s African Gray was named Gray Bird.  He was a wild capture (as opposed to hand fed/raised in captivity,) brought across the southern border to the United States in a sack or a tire or any one of the myriad and inhumane ways birds are smuggled in.  As a consequence, he preferred biting to sitting on fingers.  Still, as growly as he was towards me when we first met, (literally, for the first few months of being roommates, he “mimicked” growling whenever I walked by his cage) I wanted to befriend him. I learned tips from Liz.

 

“Birds spend their lives in trees,” not a new concept to me…”and are, therefore, used to being above nearly everything else.  That’s how they see the world,” she explained.  “So, if you want him to start getting comfortable with you then you might want to sit on the floor when you are in the same room with him, at least in the beginning.”

 

I did want him to be comfortable with me so I started sitting on the floor when studying my texts for college. He stared at me intently, quietly growling off and on.  I soon learned not to make sudden movements or loud noises like sneezing (or dropping books) which could send him into flapping fits. But, after a few months of studying together, Gray Bird continued to growl.

 

I knew the day he began getting comfortable with me because he farted. Well, he made the sound of a fart.  There was absolutely no way to mistake his noise for anything else.  I had been sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and Liz was standing at the stove.  She turned beet red and I burst out laughing, un-gracefully spewing tea out my nose and down my shirt.

 

“Did he just fart?” I queried after a quick swipe at my shirt with a napkin.

She nodded. “He also burps, long, loud burps.” She held my gaze waiting for a reaction. 

I chuckled. “Seriously?”

She hung her head and went back to the stove. “Now you know my secret,” she replied and started laughing along with me.

But that wasn’t Liz’s only secret, as it turned out. African Grays do not keep secrets.

 

“I’m never going to be able to get rid of him. It’s so embarrassing,” Liz said of Gray Bird after a particularly loud swearing session. 

 

“Hello,” Gray Bird had said that morning, beginning his tirade rather mildly. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Hmmm...” It was as if I were listening in on one side of a phone call.  It was pretty funny. “Uh huh. Uh huh,” he continued lilting his “uh hus”as though truly engaged in a conversation. Then suddenly his tenor changed, “Goddamn it!” Gray Bird yelled following it up with, “Asshole,” the last word taking on a sarcastic nasal quality and an emphasized, drawn out syllable, “hoooole.”  Then, “BANG!” he slammed the invisible phone into it’s invisible cradle with his noises. The conversation, with no one in particular, was ended. He rocked back and forth on his perch, bobbing his head, knocking his beak on the bars of his cage. “SHIT!!” Gray Bird’s expletive reverberated through the house. 

 

But Gray Bird wasn’t all locker room noises. He also used to mimic what sounded like an opera singer in the shower, “whaaaaaaaaaaaa…,” his voice heading higher into vibrato as he sang.  He’d yell at Spike, the Amazon parrot, if the smaller bird wouldn’t stop squawking, “Spike!   Nnnnnnnoooo! SPIKE!  Quiet!” His vocabulary was absolutely amazing. Liz told me that, just like a kid, he could learn a word by hearing it only once.  Knowing very little about African Grays,  I believed her.  But, perhaps she was suggesting that she rarely swore?

 

You can really get to know a person when you live with their African Gray.

 

Rexxy is no exception. She is S-M-A-R-T! 

No different than many dogs,Tess gets into barking fits sometimes. Before my friends left town I was given a list of phrases that often work to help get her to quiet down.  “No. Quiet. Stop,” are not part of the phrase list I was given. But Rexxy has that one down. She doesn’t yell the phrase.  Rather, she firmly states it and follows it up politely with, “Good girl.” She also sings “Happy bird-day,” says “Rex,” “hi,” “flour,” “hey Rex,” “hey Buddy,” squeaks like a door, and whistles like she just saw a handsome bird fly by. The other day, when Po was coughing and gagging I heard Rexxy say, “are you okay?”  I haven’t heard her whole repertoire. Unlike Gray Bird, she doesn’t keep a running monologue day in and day out. She seems to enjoy her quiet time, too.  I have yet to hear her swear, yell, or mimic bodily noises. But even if I did, I would laugh. Birds must find us just as entertaining.

 

 

Typically when I am house/pet sitting I take all the dogs out for a walk morning and evening.  

Po prefers to walk when we have a true pack, as defined by him- three or more dogs.  Humans do not count.  If it’s just Po, Hanna and me, Po will often trail far behind hoping I’ll call to him to “keep up” and then give him a treat. Yes, he has my number but I am not going to NOT walk just because he dawdles. All three of us need it. If we walk with an additional dog it’s game on. Po is out front skipping along (he skips) happy as a four legged (chubby, but less so now) clam. On our way home, with or without extra companions, he is like a horse to the barn, in front and skipping most of the way. 

 

On our walk yesterday morning we turned left out of the driveway walking toward the west.  Summer elected to stay behind. Her tender feet don’t go as fast as they used to. We had the requisite three dogs, one human combination so Po was out in front like a kindergartner on his way to his second week of school. Tess and Hanna were on lead, the two of them being likely candidates to chase the longhorns that roam the fields.  We got to the “T” in the road and Hanna stopped short, staring up at the road sign. She seemed particularly interested in this fantastic specimen, a combo “STOP/Wildfire staging area/Piro Road/West Arroyo Road.”   She stared at it long enough to make it look like she was actually reading all of the words.  She did the same this morning, stopping for a long time and looking up at the ten foot tall 4x4 loaded with signage. She cocked her head as if puzzling, “What is a Piro?”

 

It’s really a riot to watch a dog reading a road sign but, as far as we know all dogs could be doing that every time they ride in the car. I mean, how would we really know? For centuries we’ve believed animals were incapable of emotional and intellectual behavior. We know better now. Sitting in the front or back seat, head in or out of the vehicle, tongue hanging out, drool sliming up the Naugahyde, any dog could be like a five year old, practicing reading road signs, staring at each one, silently sounding them out. And what about the African Gray? What about Rexxy? I suspect if she ever saw a road sign she’d read it aloud.

 

 

               Rexxy                                               Tess                                     Summer