I’m sure dogs appreciate praise and applause from humans – there’s no mistaking their appreciation – but they’ve been selectively bred to be human companions for thousands of years. What about other animals? When Shamu the killer whale does his act for the crowd at Sea World, does he get any more fun out of it than he would get from performing in an empty hall? What about circus elephants?
Does a racehorse understand that it’s competing against the other horses, or does it run just because the jockey is hitting its flank with a quirt?
I don’t specifically know about Killer Whales, but I’ve seen and worked with many sea lions (not in a performing context), and they show behaviors when people are close by and paying attention to them that aren’t seen when watching them from afar. What I can surmise is that they know:
That you’re paying attention to them.
That unusual behaviors (e.g. spinning leaps out of the ocean) generate a response from you.
That they want you to have certain kinds of responses (sometimes shouts, clapping, or even feeding*) but not others.
Whether they enjoy it or not I can’t really say, but it does appear that way a lot.
We usually try not to expose sea lions to music, but I’ve seen them react to it… not enough to figure out whether they like it or not.
*Please, please, please do not try to feed any sea lions you see in the wild. It causes lots of problems down the road.
Racing horses, like dogs, have been selectively bred to “enjoy” their intended activity, and will demonstrate behavior problems if they are restrained or not properly trained.
Having swam with dolphins and sea lions many times, I have to opin that they do in fact enjoy interacting with people. Dolphins will come right up and initiate games (and can occasionally be pretty rough in doing so), whereas sea lions will swim up to you but not touch you or allow you to touch them. A diving companion once made the mistake of trying to pet a friendly sea loin, which proceeded to follow him back to the boat, bearing his teeth the whole way. OTOH, on one occasion, I had a sea lion come up and “hug” me with his flippers. I’ve never seen or heard of that happening before or since.
I’d say that most animals either consider humans to be a rather odd-looking member of their own species (and act accordingly; if you act aggressive toward a black bear, he’ll think you’re some kind of superbear and back off), or are completely perplexed about people.
One of our cats clearly appreciates the difference between my husband and me in terms of the likelihood she will be fed treats off our plates. (He spoils that one rotten). Cats also appreciate the difference between behavior that is acceptable when the humans are not home, and behavior that is acceptable when we are home.
One cat apprears to appreciate instrumental music, but hate anything with vocals or percussion. She shows her appreciation by curling up near the stereo for a contented nap. If she is disrupted by vocals or percussion, she looks like she woke up with a headache and leaves.
I have no official cite, but have read that dolphins simply like pushing stuff around. They’ve been seen tossing their prey about (like cats with mice) for no apparent reason. Their interaction with humans may well be another version of that. There have been occasional claims of people saved by dolphins that pushed them toward land. However, we obviously never hear of the situations where the dolphins pushed humans further out to sea!
Cats, like other predators, by nature observe everything constantly and know what behavior is likely to result in food or something else they like.
I’ve often wondered about how dogs & cats perceive our comings and goings. In their world, one would go out and about to patrol territory or to hunt. Perhaps they see us going out day after day on unsuccessful hunts, but on approximately one day in seven (not that they can count) returning with a great bounty of prey – whole huge hunks of cow, for example.
From my reading and personal interactions with them, dolphins clearly enjoy playing games, sometimes fairly elaborate ones that indicate some measure of planning. For instance, I once worked at an amusement park with a (small) dolphin show. One of the dolphins loved to play a game where she’d knock a ball just outside the tank (she got really good about bouncing it right off the front of the bleachers) and then wait for someone to come along and pick up the ball, then proceed to shower them with water and squeak it up in a way that sounded exactly like Lucille Ball choking on a kazoo. She knew exactly what she was doing, she developed a plan for doing it, and she knew that the trick worked best on someone new, whereas the old hands and trainers knew better than to fall for her tricks.
I would argue that cats don’t toss mice or other prey around for “no apparent reason”, but rather they do so because it stimulates them, i.e. they find it amusing or engaging. While I don’t think any cat is going to start writing concertos or programming in Python, I think to dismiss their behavior as purely reflexive is to ignore the vast array of behaviors and individual characteristics (which change throughout their lives) that cats display.
It’s easy to anthromophize animals and their motives for behavior that sometimes seems human, but for many people (who apparently fear humanity being knocked off of some kind of intellectually superior pedistal) it’s even easier to deconstruct all behavior into some reflex behavior rather than the result of some degree of cognition. It’s becoming more apparent in animal research that many higher animals do in fact have internal lives and at least a limited ability to reason or plan.
Excellent points. I agree that there seems to be a lot of enjoyment amongst animals – otters, for example, slide down mud or snow banks into the water just to have fun, as far as anyone has been able to determine.
I do think we have to be cautious in attributing our own motives and thoughts to animals, though. Hasn’t it been determined that in their natural environment young male dolphins engage in something that in humans would be described as gang rape?
At once time everyone believed that chimps in the wild were peaceful vegetarians, but IIRC it’s been pretty well established that they catch, kill and eat monkeys, and engage in some quite violent behaviors as well.
Getting back to the OP, obviously my cats understand what I’m doing when I’m eating. When they accompany me into the bathroom, I wonder if they understand that what I’m doing on the toilet is the same thing they’re doing in the litter box? Of course, if they do, I’m sure they don’t care.
It’s obvious to me, anyway, that they understand loneliness and company. Even when their food dishes are already full, they always come to greet me when I come home. Of course, that could just be part of their natural predator “observe everything” requirement.
My pet birds appreciate a whole bunch of stuff they get from the featherless bipeds.
Like…well, food in general, but especially treats like noodles and Cheerios.
They appreciate music. Sometimes, the volume of their appreciation drowns out the radio or CD.
One of 'em likes to watch TV. As in, sits on top of his cage and clearly follows the action on screen, sometimes reacting with great agitation, noise, wing-flapping, and so forth.
And they certainly seem to appreciate me. At least, they appreciate my shoulders. They’ll land on shoulder, climb up me like I’m a ladder onto my shoulder, and then they don’t want to get off. Ever.
I’ve seen paintings done by elephants – but to me they look like abstract splashes of color. Has an elephant ever done a painting that actually looked like something?
My horse races others in the pasture. I have no idea how they decide when the “race” is over or how long it will be. They seem to have no innate sense of pacing themselves–they pretty much go for an all out sprint then suddenly slow down. The winner will often snort and buck around in a horsey victory dance.
The horse also knows when I praise her. It’s different from the dogs who get all excited that they’ve pleased their human. With the horse it’s more about avoidance of further corrections than making me happy. She definitely knows when I’m pissed at her. It makes sense. They are herd animals with a hierarchy. The learn pretty quickly that you don’t piss off the boss mare.
MLS, I’ve wondered the same thing about my dogs’ perception of my comings and going. I also wonder what they think of the pizza guy. Intruder approaches the door with food. Dogs bark like hell. Guy leaves, abandoning his quarry. And mean me never gives the dogs their share!
Of course, I deserve it. I am the “bringer of light.” The dogs walk from room to room and it stays dark. I walk into a room, and suddenly the sun comes out!
I would argue they do it because they’re evil and they enjoy torturing the little mousies. Furry little sadists, they are.
They don’t bring you their mangled kills as a “present”-- they bring it to you to show you what they’re capable of . . . and you may be next.
A book I read, When Elephants Weep related the antecdote that one of the painting elephants seemed to be trying to make an effort to paint what she saw around her. For example, if an orange truck was parked where she could see it, she would start using the orange paint.
Back to the OP-- when I was a child, I had a pet chicken. No foolin’. My grandpa had hatched a batch of eggs in an incbator on his farm, but one of the chicks was “flawed.” It wasn’t strong enough to kick its way free of the egg.
Grandpa told me gently that this was nature’s way of weeding out the weak, and that I should leave nature to “take its course.” I thought that was horrible! I cracked away the eggshell, and freed the little bird. I wrapped him in a towl, and cared for him.
Since he wasn’t around other chickens, he must have imprinted on me. He followed me everywhere I went, and learned to hop up in my arms to be taken to the barn to dine on spiders on the walls.
He certainly seemed to crave my attention, and he seemed to respond to “good chicken!” He would repeat behaviors which were praised. But maybe he was just a really smart chicken. Who knows? He was killed by a hawk before I got a chance to see how much I could teach him.
Well, that could be, too. Still, sadism is a form of pleasure.
My grandfather (who I never knew) had a chicken named “Chicken Little” who he carried around in his pocket while in court. Chicken Little eventually grew to be a rather large rooster and would chase the several spaniels they had around the house. He would apparently beg for food and could identify various members of the family (i.e. he could boss my father and, to a lesser extent, my grandmother, but he responded to my grandfather with deference.)
If an animal with as tiny a brain as a chicken (it’s literally about the size of a pea) can learn behaviors and adapt to various people with variations of response, I think it’s safe to say that higher mammals are capable of some degree of cognition much greater than what is traditionally attributed to them. They may not think like a person, but they definitely think.
On reflection, that’s more than can be said of many public figures and Hollywood celebrities.
Elephants do have death rituals, of a sort. And male dolphins will gang up and “steal” females. River otters will play with humans in the wild, and I’m convinced they do it just for fun.
I don’t know how much of an insight this might give you as to how much animals understand our doings, but MLS’ post made me recall the following.
I live in a small enclave which includes 5 apartments in a large, sub-divided house as well as 2 apartments in a self-standing duplex. We share a courtyard, and over the years I’ve tended to know my neighbors.
One person moved out, and abandoned a cat. My SO aND I quasi-adopted him, although he remained largely a street cat. We fed him regularly, and gave him a name he came to respond to.
“Buster” adapted to our entreaties, and finally allowed us to take him to the vet.
As our relationship with Buster matured, we began hearing from the other folks in the complex that he was leaving bird guts and mouse remains on their doorsteps. That never occurred on our doorstep.
We asked our vet. In her opinion, Buster was satisfied that we were good hunters, as we could give him food. So he was taking care of the other people in the complex, who did not have food to share.
Our kitty box was once located in the bathroom. (Our current bathroom is too small to include a box.) Yes, they do know what you’re doing and they will join you if the facilities allow. It’s quite the bonding moment.
