ANIMAL TALK

by Hugh M. Lewis

I am delighted by a well written article within a kind of course in which journalese can become quite stultifying. Are 'ethnocentrism' and 'romanticism' the ultimate boundaries of enlightened anthropological knowledge, as these issues have become the preoccupation of so many, or might not the ultimate kind of horizon be a more basic 'anthropocentrism' and 'anthropomorphism' and 'over emphasis' of distinguishing characteristics (sentience, true language, creative intelligence) implicit to anthropological definitions of humankind--issues especially underlying a sub-discipline such as cognitive anthropology. In this regard, it seems appropriate to highlight a few examples from my own reading and past experience.

Analytically this problem can be divided along several dimensions. First it the question of human sentience versus animal instinct, reflecting a nature/culture dichotomy basic to anthropology and Western Rationalistic Science. We can accept either a very narrow definition of 'human cognition' in which case even most human beings most of the time would fail the intelligence test, or we can move down a long scale of 'beingness' to the opposite of an extremely wide and loose interpretation of 'what is intelligence?' and then proceed to find what we think we mean even in insects and bacterium. (I have read a book on animal communication which actually attempts this most eloquently and convincingly, if not quite scientifically.)

Then, there is the question of communication and language, again demanding a spectrum from a very selective definition of 'genuine language' (which amounts to the claim of being anything which human beings speak and understand). People who adhere strongly and strictly to this claim would even deny the possibility of 'non-human language' among dolphins, whales, great apes and extra-terrestrials, principally on the ground that these systems of communication would not be definition share all the design features of our own 'true language' (and also because we haven't yet figured them out). Non-human communication systems are not capable of the complexities of genuine language (symbolizing, hierarchy, duality) which produce human thought. On the other hand, very enlightening work has been done on such communication systems (Gazelle Boy, for instance) of very un-humanlike species which suggests a degree of subtlety and deliberateness bordering upon the anthropological (frequently in our contacts, other species seem more accommodating towards us than we towards them, though we presume we are more intelligent).

Finally, there comes the question of culture and social organizations which ranges from the extreme anthropocentrism of technological civilization to the other end claiming motility in protozoa to be the basis of a rudimentary culture in animals. (John Tyler Bonner, The Evolution of Culture in Animals 1980). And it is not always so clear cut which side to take, for commitment to either extreme can become dangerous and often for similar kinds of reasons.

Beyond the mere analytical distinctions between culture, language and cognition and between mind and body, nature and culture, lurks a deep and dark wilderness of questions concerning human evolution, sociobiology and human behavior. The way through the forest is never very clear, but it seems to run through solid middle ground. Our traditional categories of 'humanness' have been repeatedly challenged most of all by the ultimate kind of 'otherness'.

Our has long been a basic kind of 'familiarity' too long taken for granted, in contrast to the seemingly absolute 'strangeness' of being 'non-human'. For the most part, this seems to have been largely our own fault as in our anthropological preoccupation with ourselves we have largely failed to pay very much attention to the true 'others'. Of course, there are the outstanding exceptions (notably in primatology) but by and large the record of the naturalist observer remains incomplete and more importantly, insensitive to the subtleties of similarity and difference in inter-species contacts. Such a horizon presents the ultimate clash of 'cross-cultural encounter'. And it is in the area of sensitivity and 'enlightened awareness' that perhaps the seasoned humanistic anthropologist can most contribute to other naturalists in their attempts to scientifically 'observe' their pet species, and perhaps in turn, our anthropologists might learn something about sensitivity from these other naturalists which can be fruitfully applied to our scientific endeavors to observe our own pet species.

It seems plausible that the issue of sensitivity turns not on observation alone which entails some kind of detachment and distance, but upon observations which come from involvement, interaction and 'participation' in the lifeways of others--from 'making the strange seem familiar' by active involvement and learning, believe it or not, by primitive mimicry and imitation. And such interactions come from 'cultural clashes' as well as from 'cooperative neutrality' or 'mutual symbiosis' or some other kind of 'mutuality'. In such an interactive mode, at least part of the question of 'what is it like to be an ape' or a dolphin or king cobra become answered by experience, however strange and inchoate in expression. And however seemingly strange and inchoate, it is experience derived from attempts at communication, however difficult and rudimentary.

Already, work with chimps, gorillas, orangutans, baboons, macaques and other primates, both naturalistically and in experimentally controlled settings have thoroughly and sufficiently challenged many of our most basic anthropocentric preconceptions about learning, loving and tool making. And the discovery of 'Lucy' and those mysterious footprints at Laetoli have shattered unequivocally every pretentious creation myth concocted by humanity, scientific or otherwise. But other sensitive studies also attest to the nuances of inter-species communication (for instance, Leonard Williams Challenge to Survival 1977).

One hot and humid day, while walking down a road through a high canopy jungle in the Philippines, I happened upon a small troop of large monkeys making their way slowly and cautiously to the other edge of the jungle. I halted at some safe distance, frozen in my footsteps, my vision transfixed by the fierce gaze of the sentries posted in the middle of the road, as the young and their mothers vanished silently into the thick foliage on the opposite side. The experience was simultaneously frightening and fascination and I have been left with a vivid impression of it many years later. Their menacing postures, their command presence, and sense of un-challengeable control of the situation left no doubt in my mind of the consequences of moving any closer for a better look. And they seemed to know that I knew it.

Neither will I ever forget the young Filipino who spotted a little monkey upon someone's shoulder and who then taunted and teased it with merciless delight and obvious and oblivious gratification, calling it a 'little person' and mocking its gestures and facial expressions without a hint of embarrassment. Vietnamese, Filipinos, Malays, Chinese and other Southeast Asians frequently call their little children 'monkeys' and often keep monkeys as household pets, even using them to retrieve coconuts from tall trees.

In Malaysia, 'orang' means 'person' of either gender and any age. 'Orang tua' means 'old person', 'orang muda' means 'young person' and 'orang gila' means 'mad person'. None of these terms are necessarily, overtly derogatory or deferential. 'Orang-' is also used in referring to ethnic groupings--'orang Melayu' are the Malay people, 'orang Cina' are the Chinese, 'orang Tamil' are the Tamil, 'orang Hindu' are the Indian people, 'orang Punjab' are the Punjabis, 'orang Ingerris' are the English, 'orang Putih' are the white people including all Americans and Europeans. So far there is very little derogation, although 'orang Bengali' and 'orang hitam' are definitely so because they highlight differences of dress and color of the skin. 'Orang Asli' refers to the 'aboriginal people' of the interior forests. 'Orangutan' means literally 'people of the jungle' but is also used condescendingly and insultingly to refer to others as 'monkeys' or 'ape people' (like you are a stupid person, do not know anything, ignorant, come out of the jungle, backward).

There are the well known 'Monkey Gardens' in Penang, Malaysia: a beautiful park set in against Penang Hill, surrounded by lush and dense green forest and with a fairly wide stream cascading through it. The park even used to feature a pair of Honey bears native to the island but it is most famous for its large and voracious monkey population. Hindus and Buddhists alike have their monkey gods, who are mischievous tricksters. The Monkey Gardens are not only a cool and enjoyable place to spend several hours--families picnicking on the lawns and their children swimming in the pools between the large rocks--but they are also a delightful and sometimes risky place to interact with monkeys (rhesus) of all ages and dispositions. The park resembles some of the nearby temples set back against the hills, with its stairways and circular walkways, and going there, walking around and feeding the monkeys becomes something of a ceremony.

Within the park proper are many different groups of monkeys, often with many monkeys in a group. People throw them 'groundnuts' (peanuts), fruits and bananas, and coax the 'tamer' ones to take the offerings from their hands. It is interesting to watch the competition for food between the monkeys. The small young ones are always lorded over by the older and larger ones. And it is sometimes saddening to see an old male take food away from a lone mother with a small infant or from one missing an arm or leg. There is very little 'sharing' and a great deal of 'greed' as one makes quite conscientious attempts to distribute the food equitably. Many of the monkeys are quick and crafty, sneaking up from behind people and stealing all kinds of things, 'plastic bags' of drinks for instance, and running off to climb a tree or nearby fence. There are so many that they descend upon a person all at once and force a person to back up.

Small younger ones remain shy, not coming within arms reach.. doubtless many people deliberately trick and frighten them. But older ones with silver hair are frequently quite bold and intimidating--they will watch your eyes and body and sense the slightest sign of apprehension. They approach you and test you--if you back up they will come upon you more menacingly, but if you stand your ground they will stop at short range and respectfully wait for their fair share, or reach out their human like hands to grab your peanuts. If you make any kind of aggressive move, showing your teeth, or advancing toward them, they will either run off or become quite aggressive, bearing their own sharp teeth and chase you off. They can be quite frightening. One tall and athletic American friend actually ran away after several larger ones ganged up on him when he had taunted them.

One day I took another American friend and his young son to visit the monkeys. The little boy was quite curious and cautious about them. Many monkeys recognized his slight stature and his fear and knew that they could take advantage of him. The boy was holding a whole bag of peanuts when one huge old monkey simply walked straight up to the him in a very matter-of-fact way and simply grabbed the peanuts from his hands with out hesitating. It did not run off immediately, but just sat there with the bag, and then casually turned and sauntered off. It took a moment for the boy to realize what happened until his eyes got red and he let out a scream for his dad.

As you go back against the hill, the monkeys become less and less tame but bolder. We walked up a little side trail that led away from the park into the forest along a little creek. We came to a picnic table and sat to rest. The monkeys gradually emerged from the jungle and surrounded us. One made his way onto the table and sat there eyeing us. We had hidden the bags of peanuts in our shirts. We waited to see what would happen. This monkey went to the little boy and started reaching into this shirt and pockets to find the peanuts. The boy was too startled and frightened to move. The boy's father put a few peanuts down his shirt and the monkey reached down inside to retrieve them. Then it snatched the whole bag of peanuts from his hands. Not daunted, the father reached over and suddenly snatched the package back. This startled the little monkey, who became perturbed, screeching and biting and clawing the air, but it did not attack the man.

This man had a tattoo on his chest of a monkey representing wisdom and bravery, that was given to him by a Thai villager. Thai people, like many southeast Asians, wear tattoos to protect them from harm, to shield them and make them immune to attacks and invincible.

One of the most repulsive customs of the Chinese which I learned of, one which my wife was quite hesitant to inform me about, is the practice of eating monkey brains while the monkey is tied up while still alive under a table with a hole in the middle to fit the monkey's skull. The monkey screams while the skull cap is removed and the brain is picked out with chopsticks and dipped into a kind of wine. This custom is supposed to confer health and vitality ('chiak por'--'to eat something giving the body strength'--'to rejuvenate the body'). It has been outlawed although it remains an exclusive practice that only money can buy. Monkeys are also boiled whole with their hair removed in a tin can and the broth is taken as a medicinal soup and then the meat is eaten. These are the same rhesus monkeys that inhabit the Gardens, and also the ones that are commonly used in scientific experiments in laboratories.

The apes in the zoos I have visited have been a pretty depressed lot. At the Singapore zoo, there is a baby orangutan with whom you can have your photo take, though it was ill while we were visiting. I had a Polaroid snapshot of a gorilla at the LA Zoo giving the camera a clear and concise middle finger. At the San Diego Zoo (the biggest in the world) I have seen gorillas, orangutans and chimpanzees lying huddled in the corners, lifeless and oblivious of the many bystanders. One gorilla let out a golden stream of urine in our direction and then flung a handful of shit at some well dressed spectators who became quite upset. Some sad looking chimps just paced their cage to and fro, back and forth in a neurotic, peripatetic way. One of the newest exhibits there was a cage with large plate glass picture windows set at ground level to allow the best visibility of the orangutans. I always like to watch people watching the animals, laughing and making ape like gestures at the poor orangutan just on the other side of the glass, scratching her armpits, contorting her mouth and going 'hoo,hoo,hoo'. The orangutan just looked at her sadly and silently, helpless behind the thick glass. To me, from my safe distance, the woman began to look more 'ape like' than the orangutan.

A Vietnamese informant told me that when she first arrived by plane to the United States, she was frightened by the appearance of Americans--fat and tall and hairy. She said it took some getting used to, because they all looked like monkeys. Funny I thought, I used to hear the same thing from young Marines stationed in the Orient.

What is the case for monkeys and apes applies to many other creatures as well. Elephants are being poached into extinction, just for their ivory tusks, which can be found quite beautifully carved in many Chinatowns. They have remarkable memories, are quite protective of one another and their offspring and pile up the bleached bones of their dead in a common 'graveyard'. In southeast Asia they have long been used as beasts of burden in both peacetime and wartime.

Ganesha is the Hindu god of prudence, represented as a man with the head of an elephant. Southeast Asian elephants were also hunted alongside the hippopotamus and the rhinoceros but they were more difficult to trap. The pits dug for them would always be discovered no matter how well camouflaged and the elephants would diligently step around them and destroy the cover. And if they knew they were being tracked by hunters, they would 'P-loop' their trackers, backtracking through the forest and await the hunters along the side of the trail. And they were deadly for those whose aim was poor.

Domestic dogs and cats share many affinities with their feral relatives. Cat social structure is very similar to that of the big cats with sisters of a kin group remaining together and sharing in the care of their litters, protecting their young from danger and destruction by intruding females or marauding males. I had a cat that would follow me to school in the mornings and do acrobatic acts for me by racing across the yard and up a palm tree and onto the roof to the other side. Another cat would regularly retrieve a small coiled spring I would throw across the floor. It would kiss me on the lips and follow me curiously into the bathroom to see what I was doing there. I have watched my dog for many years and believe without a doubt that it feels sad when I feel sad and happy when I am happy. It has its own moods too. It is capable of some quite symbolic behavior. Whenever it is not getting the attention it deserves, it will deliberately take something off the countertop or dresser, like a paper or magazine. When I am away, it will tear this thing up upon the bed and scatter it about. We had a hairy red doll that it would find upon the shelf and pull down with its muzzle and put upon the pillow. The little doll represented herself, and she was telling me in a symbolic way to give her more attention by directing my attention to the strange looking doll. Where are we to draw the line between sentience, language, culture and nature.

Even the lowly, despised snake, so far down the totem pole, shows a few remarkable characteristics. They have been so little studied in their natural habitats--being mostly observed in small cages or pits or dissected upon the lab table. Very few naturalists are able to follow them completely through their natural cycles of birth, shedding, hunting, procreation, eating and dying.

In Penang, there is also a renowned snake temple where many small green tree adders lay limply upon little branches, seemingly dazed by all the smoky incense and joss. They seemed unconcerned by the continuous stream of visitors who take their pictures with flashes and even dare touch them. And they are quite venomous. There is a Chinese guy there who will be holding one or two snakes, and who will allow you to hold them and who will even take your picture with it (for a price, no less). I have watched Taiwanese tourists become very excited about the prospects of handling a real live venomous snake. One even let it crawl through his hair to the glee of his wife and friends who were snapping their little cameras. What they probably didn't know was that the snake was defanged. These practices inevitably shorten the natural life span of the snake to a few months, dying prematurely of disease and malnutrition, literally 'at the hand's of man'. It is said that the snakes originally congregated there quite naturally, a propitious occurrence which made the temple very sacred. There used to be many snakes there, but over the years their number has seemed to steadily dwindle. Not many quite religious people in Penang do not bother to go there anymore, because 'there are not so many snakes there anymore'. One must legitimately wonder now if the snakes still come there of their own calling or if they are not now secretly placed there, 'by the hands of man'.

The founder of the snake handling cult in southeastern US preached 'We must be God's chosen, 'cause nobody can handle them snakes like we can.' He died after being bitten in the temple during one of the ceremonies. The snakes are captured wild, placed in containers and brought to the ceremony where they are then removed from the boxes, carried in peoples arms, passed and thrown to other people, and then, when the ceremony is over, put back into the boxes and released. There has been speculation about why the snakes don't bite them more often. Continuous handling and enclosure in the containers is believed to render the snakes docile and passive. Loud rhythmic music may also have a soothing effect. Snakes have poor eyesight, sensing motion and following movement better than sharply focusing an outlined figure. They rely a great deal on percussive vibration which they sense through the bones and inner ear of their skull and through their body. These are some useful tips for snake handlers and tricks of the trader for the snake charmer.

It must be wondered whether snakes are also able to sense the intention and feeling of people, whether they are relaxed or tense, afraid or aggressive or comfortable, threatening or peaceful. Evidence suggests this is also so, and if this is the case, then it suggests that even snakes might exhibit some measure of voluntary mental control over their own instinctual passions. Not so much perhaps, but enough for the snakes.

The King Cobra of southeast Asia is majestic and deadly, the classic snake right out of Kipling. It likes to inhabit dark and damp out of the way places like old temples overgrown by jungle. Reaching up to seventeen feet in length, it is sometimes mistaken for the python and carelessly handled as such. Its name is 'ophiophagus hanna' or 'King Snake Eater' for it primarily dines on other snakes, including the python. Snakes make perfect edible packages for other snakes. The King Cobra is a 'culture fleer' evading the encroachment of human settlement and civilization. In its wild state it is rarely observed and people who happen across its long path either steer a wide berth around it or more commonly kill it.

It is one of the few snakes with some very interesting social patterns. It has a courtship dance in which two snakes will circle about one another and then slowly raise their fore bodies into the air while facing one another, weaving to and fro, and then coiling about one another. It is capable of lifting more than 40% of its body length into the air, which may be greater than a man's height, and can seem quite imposing when it spreads its hood. They are also the only snake which constructs a nest for the roosting of its oviparous young. Such a nest consists of piled leaves and forest debris scrapped together by sliding the midsection of the body. Beneath the leaves, it lies coiled around itself in a small compartment above the clutch of eggs. It remains there until the eggs are hatched and the young leave the nest. Though all snakes are cold blooded and endothermic, it is believed that the King Cobra can actually generate a slight increase in the internal temperature of the nest to incubate the eggs. It is not known exactly how it does this, whether by coiling itself or rhythmically flexing its body muscles in a continuous ripple. It may be that the humus itself in the nest generates heat as it decomposes as with any mulch heap.

With long two inch fangs and a healthy dose of deadly venom that is capable of killing several men, the King Cobra's venom, like all elapids affects the nervous system. Though the initial puncture wounds are quite painful (unlike vipers, elapids tend to hang on and chew) the pain soon wears off and the victim though extremely anxious about his/her condition, soon falls into a stuporous state, even very relaxed and hypnotic. The eyes become characteristically dilatory, blindness follows as the victim 'falls asleep' never to reawaken. Rapid, shallow breathing is followed by heart failure. The cobra's venom is one of the few kinds of venom to have been used pharmaceutically. Recovery is complete and sudden, if it occurs at all. It has been experimented with as a kind of 'soma' narcotic to induce a state of euphoric relaxation. It has had mixed results, as the dosage is hard to control and severe nausea often accompanies its oral ingestion.

In Burma there is a ceremony involving village maidens who capture and 'tame' a King Cobra. A ritual dance is performed by the girls and their 'snake' partners, who rear up and sway back and forth. In conclusion of the dance, the girls kiss the cobras on their nose or forehead. Afterward the snake is released back to the wild. In Hindu tradition the cobra is revered--its autochthonous nature figures in the origin of the earth and it has a benevolent and gentle nature. A Hindu friend of mine told me that she had a dream of a gigantic snake that came into her room through a window and coiled around her. It was a protective snake and she said it was a pleasant dream. This is inspite of another report she gave me of an actual incident of a small viper that had entered her bedroom and prevented her from exiting through the doorway. My dreams of snakes are always frightening--of being surrounded by coiled vipers ready to strike wherever I step. In our western tradition, the snake has been a potent symbol, but one associated with evil and death, with the devil rather than with goodness, birth and regeneration. Consequently, we lump all snakes into a single category, sinister, instinctual and dangerous and then proceed to kill them whenever and wherever we find them. In Sri Lanka an albino cobra is considered sacred and becomes the object of great pilgrimages. Cobras come to inhabit villages or estates and are seen as bringing good luck. They are left unmolested. In our tradition, many sightings of snakes in their natural habitats entail an inevitable end in which the snake is summarily bagged, shot, or hacked to death, whether it is a King Cobra nesting its clutch, a python on the prowl or discovered engorged and immobile from a fresh feast.

Snakes are rarely dangerous unless cornered or surprised. There is only one incident of a snake attacking a woman without any known provocation. Some snakes are more readily riled and more savagely aggressive than others. It is interesting that the reticulated python is an active and aggressive hunter which will not hesitate to strike, bit and suffocate a human intruder. It is the only snake known to have eaten human beings, usually young children playing or placed near the edge of clearings. In Borneo, it is believed that a python will hunt a man until it finds him, however long or far. Though by nature probably one of the least desirable snakes to have as a pet, they are regularly removed from their natural habitats in southeast Asia and flown to the US to be sold to uniformed Americans for a dear price. These people then have a wild creature on their hands they do not know what to do with. When it grows too big to deal with, perhaps they will try to resell it, perhaps it dies from neglect, or perhaps it is just destroyed when its owner realizes it dangerous nature. A magazine ad announced that Michael Jackson was trying to get rid of his 'pet python' to the tune of five thousand dollars. The python is not like the Latin American Rubber Boa, said to be less aggressive and more docile when handled. It is the typical circus side show snake. Most snake bits occur in southeast Asia plantations, by 'dumb dumb' snakes that just lie lazily beneath the debris on a trail for some hapless person to step on. Its bite cause the blood to fail to coagulate, the victim may bleed to death. This venom has also found pharmaceutical application. But all snakes no matter how formidable, aggressive or fierce will attempt to flee whenever possible, and bite humans 'only in the last resort'.

The Mambas of Africa are some of the dangerous snakes, some of the most angered and agile. It is extremely fast with a reputation for being easy to anger and fierce in the attack. And yet these snakes will, if in proximity to humans, make every effort to escape as fast as possible. One of the most interesting and informative narrative accounts of these and other snakes is by Stephen Spawls (Sun, Sand and Snakes) who grew up in Rhodesia hunting snakes and other animals. Little account of snake physiology or anatomy is given, or of their taxonomic classification or regional variation, but the author grew up watching, tracking and interacting with snakes of many kinds and through his acquired experience learned a great deal about the natural patterns of these creatures. He would unflinching and unhesitantly jump on the tail of a fleeing cobra or black mamba trying to make a quick get away across the sand or nearly drowned in a swift river after attempting to manhandle a gigantic African Rock Python or climb up a tree to coax a green mamba out of its nest only to find three between himself and the ground. And yet he almost died after being bitten on the hand by a small viper he tried retrieving from its cage. Squaring off with snakes he would gain the upper hand, and the snake, recognizing his fearless concentration and competence would break off its threat tactics and attempt to beat a hasty retreat.

There is another recorded incident of two young boys encountering a black mamba along a wooded path. They froze in fear and expectation as the mamba eyed them in fierce and silent contemplation, as it lay upon a branch overhead. They remained breathlessly still for some moments while the mamba sized them. Recognizing that they were not going to threaten it, the mamba glided slowly through the branches and between the boys legs, as if to say to them--"this is my territory, but I am letting you off the hook, but beware, because I can strike you if I choose to!"

Though many people are bitten by venomous snakes every year, only a percentage die. Many people bitten show few or slight symptoms and rapidly recover, though they've been given no effective remedy and have no acquired immunity, and even though the snakes may be quite deadly. Many who do die or suffer greatly do so from side-effects of envenomation like bacterial infection or tissue damage, bleeding or else from iatrogenic reactions to the treatment or remedies given, or from simply lack of appropriate treatment. It seems that snakes typically have some degree of control over how much venom to release. They can bite without releasing any or just a little bit, or they can let go of most or all of their venom, depending upon the perceived degree of threat, the suddenness and surprise of the encounter, or the irritation of the snake. It seems that they use different tactics if hunting prey than if they are warning or threatening or punishing an intruder. They may bite just to frighten away. Though other factors may be involved, such as time from previous bite, where and how deep the bite is, whether it is a 'full bite' or just a 'nibble' or strike, the snakes health and alertness, etc., it seems true that snakes may consciously control the amount and therefore toxicity of the bite.

One of the most vivid videos I've seen is when a large monitor lizard attacked an African Black Spitting Cobra. The cobra spit and hissed and reared and spread its wide hood and swayed but none of its threat tactics worked on the lizard, who just walked up and grabbed it in its midsection by its mouth and began whipping it about. The snake was a large one and seemed to have been shocked by the lizard's audacity, without knowing how to respond. It continued to be whipped and slung around for a bit, before it finally decided to bit the monitor on the back of the neck. It clung there for several moments, its mouth stretched wide, chewing noticeably. It seemed to have decided to give the lizard all it had. The lizard then began to shiver and quiver a little bit, momentarily stopping, but the venom had no other effect, and it seemed as though the primordial beast just shrugged off the envenomation, one that would probably have killed several men. Finally the lizard killed and ate the snake.

It seems possible that the snake may either react out of surprise or if given few moments will 'think' about the situation and then make deliberate decisions to attack or retreat or ignore. Even more interesting they seem able to read the environment and the object of its attention, to somehow sense the intentions, fear, emotions and capacities of people whom it encounters. And incident of a gigantic reticulated python in a pit catching two or three people attempting to capture it against a wall, nearly suffocating them is illustrative of their capacity to react to complex situations.

Birds provide other illustrative examples. I used to raise finches. They make several different sets of sounds, depending upon the context of agitation, feeding, courtship or 'preening'. When things are quiet and peaceful they make a beautiful song infrequently heard. These birds pair for life and cooperate intensely in nest building, sitting and feeding activities. They invest much time and energy into their building activities and may maintain two or three separate ones at the same time. The young continue to be fed for about six weeks after they hatch. Even after they have all their first feathers and can fly about the cage, they remain nearby the nest and return frequently to allow their parents to feed them. When threatened by intrusion they hide in their nests or low on the ground under rocks or in unseen corners, to escape detection. Different pairs of birds frequently cooperate together to some extent in nesting and feeding activities. There may be a dominance hierarchy. When food is placed on the ground, or nesting material, they slowly come down to investigate. One or two males will hop down first, moving slowly and cautiously. The slightest sound or movement will cause all of them to fly up to the top of the cage. Finally one comes down to the ground and remains. If nothing happens the other birds soon join in. It takes a few minutes to see them all on the ground in a relaxed manner. Sometimes I would inadvertently destroy a nest in which eggs or young are within, disrupting those nests while cleaning or clearing the cage out. Sometimes a flightless baby would fall to the ground. I would locate its nest and place it back in. I've done these with wild birds as well. I once had a strange sensation when one small featherless baby, its craw choked with uncracked seed from an inexperienced or nervous mother, suddenly died in the outstretched palm of my hand. I could feel its little body suddenly become cold and lifeless.

Doubtless these birds had their own communication system, if not a language, and their own cultural context in which it worked, and their own kind of cognition which made sense to them. It took time for new birds to get used to the cage, at first they just sit at the bottom in a quivering nervous state. It takes a full day for them to fit in, after being shocked and disoriented. I felt that birds became used to my presence near or in the cage, entering it during the day did not disturb them as much as during the nighttime, even though I made a point of leaving them alone as much as possible. A friend of mine told me she had tamed such finches, allowing them to fly freely in her home. They would come and rest on her fingers or shoulder. When I would try to capture them to sell or release them, they would quickly pick up on my strategy of trapping them between the net and the screen mesh of the cage and would then evade my attempts. Some were smarter then others, but it was almost as if they would let the others know what I was up to. The first couple of birds were always the easiest to catch, but subsequent ones became more and more difficult. Twice I had completely cleaned out the cage, only to return later to find two or three who completely evaded my efforts. Birds have been released from the cage, flown off and return. Some hang around the cage a day or two and can be recaptured, or else fly off and get lost, never to be seen again. A good friend who keeps a few of these birds told me he regularly kept the cage door open to allow the birds to leave and return freely. They would fly out for a while and return to eat and nest. One bird was gone for several weeks before finally returning to reenter the cage one day. Another was seen to hook up with some local wild birds and never returned.

While staying in a Chinese home in Penang, a neighboring household kept a pet parrot that used to swear in Chinese and made the most god-awful racket, like calls, cries of a baby or cat. It would always say 'hello, hello, hello' in the Queen's English. Now people claim that bird brains are only capable of quite accurate mimicry, but this particular one seemed to make such a fuss that it was hard to believe it wasn't doing it on purpose. It was always left outside alone, ignored in a way only a Chinese pet can be. Perhaps it only wanted attention.

In my pleasure, I've watched my daughter grown up in her first year of life. Within a few short months she learned things that my dog, cats or my birds would never have learned in their entire lifetimes. She learned these things rapidly and completely and learned not just the thing, but the principle, the symbol, the idea, behind the thing that gave it human meaning, and she learned the whole pattern in which such things take form. She learned to thumb through books and recognize individual pictures and words, and to distinguish between books, and she learned to bring the books to me, or point them out, to let me know that she wanted me to read to her. She also learned to manipulate me to get her way, and to let me know loudly and clearly when I am not giving her enough attention.

In Alice's misadventures through Wonderland, she encounters many strange creatures, most of whom are lifelike animals who speak a common language and yet the logic of the language and its referents remain strange to her. It is her innocent faith in the common sense of her language that guides her successfully through her many trials and tribulations. The fawn that befriends her in the forest cannot remember its name. As they leave the forest together, the deer suddenly remembers its name and what Alice is, and runs away in fright.