Reply #16: I have simply never doubted that mammals [View All]

[Occulus]

other than humans communicate distinct ideas to each other. This only proves that they may well have an actual language structure for doing do, one recognized by other members of their species.

That the research indicates that prairie dogs do this- "tall person in red shirt", and so on- also indicates they have some rudimentary intelligence.

It would do well for us to remember that these are rodents, and much much further away from us genetically than, for example, dolphins or chimpanzees. Given the research already performed regarding the latter two mammals, this discovery regarding prairie dogs should come as no surprise.

I should note that household dogs and cats still hold some very dim remnant of their wild ancestry, and they do react instinctively to threats even before we dumb humans are aware of them- and us, with our 'smarter' brains. Animals go nuts, for example, some time before an earthquake, and household pets are well known for reacting negatively to people who mean harm, even before they indicate they intend harm.

Also, how many times have we asked ourselves if we just saw that dog smiling, or that cat grinning? Short anecdote: one day, I sat down at my PC, and my cat jumped up onto my desk and laid down. I greeted him and scratched his ears, and then I stretched my own arms above my head, having just gotten out of bed. My cat watched me, and halfway through my own stretch, imitated me. There wasn't much question in my mind that he was doing what I did, on purpose.

Also, cat owners (and, to an extent, dog owners) may have noticed that their pets have words for certain things. These are usually unique to the pet; I've never heard of one cat in the house teaching another one the word s/he uses when asking their person to play (my cat has a word for 'play'; he's a Maine Coon, and the play word is almost a bark).

Back on topic: animals, I think, are far, far smarter than we give them credit for being, as a child of the age of, say, four, may be understanding more than they are capable of communicating at that age. Our four-year-olds grow up and gain that ability, but our animal neighbors do not; nonetheless, they try to communicate with us, and the behavior of our own household pets- domesticated animals, all- is proof of this.

The only time I can remember intentionally killing another living thing was when I was a kid: I squished a really big, ugly bug outside my front door. I felt more than heard it pop underfoot. To this day, for some reason, I regret killing that bug. As an adult, I can appreciate that it, at some point, would eventually cocoon and emerge as a huge, dusty moth or a brilliantly colored butterfly, and I would as an adult appreciate either one.

The saddest thing I can say about humanity is that we see ourselves as divorced from the natural world. We do not see ourselves as animals on this planet along with the rest of the life here, or even see ourselves as members of the animal kingdom, no: we see ourselves as holding dominion over those things, the Earth as ours to rape, pillage, and ultimately destroy in our base, useless greed.

Maybe that last paragraph is why the prairie dogs have words for a tall man in a red coat, or a short woman in a blue coat. May the prairie dogs, very sensibly, want to have nothing at all to do with us.