Jun 07 2007
Do Apes Dream of Electric Fences? (Pic of the Week)
Alternate Title: Do Apes Know They’re Going to Die?
(Cropped — hey, you wanna get closer to an imprisoned gorilla?)
Click to enlarge.
Above is a 375-pound silverback gorilla named Rocky at the Little Rock Zoo, Mother’s Day 1997. About two weeks later, on May 27, he and a girlfriend gorilla named Tammy, weighing in at a svelte 180 pounds, escaped their “habitat” and entered a work area. I swear, I had nothing to do with it.
I’m sure Rocky and Tammy probably used some of their primate smarts to escape, but I doubt they did anything as remarkable as a couple of great apes who put MacGyver to shame.
An orangutan at a Texas zoo figured out how to get over the electric fence around his cage. He ripped chunks of grass from the ground and held them in his hands and feet. Using them as insulating mittens, he climbed over the electrified wires without getting zapped.
Anyone seeing my face after I read that would be unable to resist asking me what was up. I know humans who aren’t smart enough to hatch such an escape plan, or who would be so panicked at their imprisonment that they wouldn’t be able to think straight.
In another example, an orangutan at the Omaha Zoo in 1968 hid a bent piece of stiff wire in his mouth, and when zookeepers weren’t watching (but finally when they secretly were) stuck it between the gate and the fence to defeat the latch.
Again, I know humans who would never come up with such a plan.
I saw this only a couple days after wondering if other animals besides humans are self-aware. Not do they know they have an itch, or do they know that feeling hungry means they need to eat. Not do they recognize themselves in mirrors (which apparently apes do along with humans, and arguably elephants and dolphins).
Specifically, I wonder whether apes know they are going to die.
Surely with all the things they can do — learn sign language, use tools to pull ants from an anthill, miss their babies when they are taken from them, create and execute clever escape plans — these creatures must see others of their kind die and make the connection that they, too, will one day call it quits.
I read a web page wherein a man chronicles his doberman’s last day, and he said that while playing with the dog and feeding it a deluxe hamburger, he felt the dog “somehow knew” what was coming. While I personally doubt the dog suspected it was about to be euthanized (it had viciously attacked the man’s wife), I have no proof.
If it were an ape, however, I might be more likely to believe it. While they don’t always disregard their own feces (especially after years of confinement) with any more consistency than the average dog, I suspect that after a few times seeing others of their kind pass on, they start putting the pieces together.
Chimpanzees at the Arnhem Zoo in the Netherlands formed a pyramid to escape from their pen. They stacked on top of each other until they were high enough to scale the walls. The first one to the top then reached down and helped the others get out.
How could a species that smart, with an obvious ability to communicate in a fairly advanced manner, not know about death?
I’ve seen some video that indicates that they do not understand death at all, or at least have a much less sophisticated perception of life’s end than humans do. A mother chimpanzee carried her dead infant everywhere with her. The show didn’t follow her all the way to her eventual abandonment of the body; I suspect because it was gruesome.
So, despite their intelligence and mirror self-recognition (called “MSR” by scientists), maybe apes don’t know that they are temporarily alive. The example above was a young mother, so perhaps she just hadn’t seen enough death to know what it was.
Humans, with all our obviously superior brainpower, still don’t have a firm grasp on exactly what comes after the final beat of the heart (if anything). There are those who believe they know, but we have no eyewitnesses to confirm it, so the argument continues.
I wonder if apes have a hypothesis.
(In a final word about dogs, they can recognize their own scent weeks after leaving it on a bush, so they possess what I call USR — urine self-recognition. I guess self-awareness is relative.)
Hmm, alternate title:
Do Apes Dream of Electric Bananas?
Wouldn’t urine self-recognition be “USR”? If it were urine “sexy” self-recognition (like from a female dog), then you could call it USSR and get the Beatles to write a song about it.
I’m pretty strongly convinced that animals (many, anyway) have a lot more awareness than we superior apes give them credit for. I don’t know if that sort of awareness would extend as far as mortality, but there’s generally more going on behind the furry facades than many of us think.
It’s like that one dog said in reference to humans on that really lame movie trailer a couple years ago, “You don’t see us picking up their poop, do you?”
Dave - Ha! Indeed, they must.
Simon - Yes, it would. So I changed it, and now you look like a fool! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!!
Oh, ahem. Sorry about that. I think I originally wrote “urine self-awareness,” which would be USA.
I agree with you that we don’t give them near as much credit for their brainpower. I think it makes us feel better about some of the ways we use our power over them.
I’d agree that most animals are probably more aware than we’re comfortable admitting to. Some of the examples you site are truly impressive. But death is a tough one. Hell..we humans don’t really understand it. We grapple with it and stare at it like chimp with a puzzle, but can we really say that we understand it?
And even the chimp carrying her baby around after it had died…it might not be as common in humans, but I can imagine a similar response from a grief-stricken mother. Maybe not for days…but for longer than might seem sane to an outside observer.
Dave - I don’t know about apes…but I know some women who are pretty fond of their electric bananas. (Sorry, Mark…I know you were trying to get your blog out of the gutter ;)
I think about death and all that goes on without me too much. Probably to the point of it being unhealthy. I still haven’t been presented an idea or come up with my own that I accept concerning death and the afterlife.
I refuse to believe any animals have a clue or even think about it, though our dog may be getting the idea when I give her the “look that could kill”.
Cool…love that image!
Excellent question. Your examples of primate intelligence (as compared with supposedly superior human intelligence - you’re right, I can’t imagine human beings getting out of similar pickles) tell ME that they are smarter than most folks give them credit for. I agree with Moksha that perhaps the young mother was grieving in the only way she knew how - and I believe animals (even cats and dogs, etc) do grieve when they lose a close companion, though perhaps not quite the way we do. Not to say the loss isn’t as hard on them, but that they grieve over the absence of the companion, not perhaps regretting things they always meant to say or do, whatever.
Anyway! I think it’s entirely possible that an ape could sense that death - or that loss, absence, whatever - might be in store for them at some point. Very tasty food for thought.
He is so beautiful Mark!
Interesting…
During an internship at a the Pittsburgh Zoo years ago, I started my day with a (largely one-sided) conversation with a rather intimidating Silverback named… I forget. We never discussed mortality so I can’t provide any insight on the subject.
I can’t pass up an opportunity to coin an anacronym, as you know. How’s this:
Apes Peeing Everywhere So as to Hint at Its Territory.
Hence, APESHIT