Poop, roaches, turning heads, making love

Living On Earth interviews Amy Parish, an anthropology and gender studies teacher at the University of Southern California and scientific advisor to the Bonobo Conservation Initiative. The bonobo (wikipedia entry) is related to the chimpanzee, but a little more "make love not war"-ish as you will hear/read in the interview.

Here is my favorite excerpt.

I used to collect fecal samples on all of the females so that I could analyze the samples for estrogen and progesterone.

...

So Lana had a sample in her hand that I really needed because I knew she was approaching ovulation, and so I held out my hand and wiggled the ends of my fingers, which is a typical bonobo begging gesture. And she knew I was begging for something but she couldn't figure out what it was – she was turning around in circles and looking on the floor. And finally she looked at her hand, and looked at me, and looked at her hand, and then she just held it out and I took it from her. And I thought, 'oh, this is wonderful, I'm going to have to train the bonobos to just give me their samples.'

Well, the very next day I came in and she handed me a sample. And by the end of the week, all four adult females were just giving me these fecal samples, which was very heartening. As a biologist, it made my job a lot easier.

I learn something new every day. I had no idea that my new friend (now seemingly gone for good) is actually related to my old friends, the cockroach. Of course, we as humans tend to like the praying mantis much more than a cockroach, or most other bugs for that matter. One reason is that we identify with them simply because they, unlike most other insects, can turn their head -this makes them appear more "human" to us. My how simplistic the human thought process is!

Via a Science Friday interview with Piotr Naskrecki about his book The Smaller Majority (newly added to my "really, really wanna read and hope I get to it list").

Ninety percent of the known species on Earth are smaller than a human finger. We'll talk with zoologist and photographer Piotr Naskrecki about the Smaller Majority the title -- and subject -- of his new book.

As regular readers may have deduced, I am a strong believer in the idea that there is not much difference between humans and animals other than the fact that we are "human" and they are "non-human", which contributes to an "us vs. them" human-centric viewpoint. Of course, the phrase "not much" is very subjective. Sure, we may have more developed brains than other creatures, and we are shaped differently than most, we can't run as fast as some, but we can jump higher than others, etc... I don't consider that as "much" in the grand scheme of things.

What I mean is that, when reduced to the fact that we are living creatures, composed of organs, composed of tissues, composed of cells, composed of molecules, composed of atoms, we are the same. Where we differ is in what emerges from the many possible combinations of atoms into molecules into cells into tissue into organ into species. But those differences between me and Awii are no more significant than the difference between Awii and the praying mantis. We are all emergent beings... complicated wholes which have emerged from simple interactions between less complicated parts.

What's more, contrary to what I was taught as a young school-boy, the evidence just keeps pilling up to support (what I feel should be obvious for anyone who takes to the time to observe) that that other creatures inhabiting this planet do have feelings, and wants, and desires. That the only difference is in our shape and physical and mental capabilities... and that these differences are an incredibly minor in comparison to the human-centric box we have trapped ourselves in, the real reason we think we are so "different".

Some may argue that my bird running over to the computer to trying to wedge his head between the keys and my fingers is an "instinct", that he is simply an organic robot. I, on the other hand, think he knows, through learning, that my fingers on his head feel good, and that the keyboard is a place where my fingers often are. Watching him attack the keyboard, I think he feels jealousy toward it. Although his brain is not as developed as mine (in so far as we humans define "developed"), he recognizes that the keyboard is getting the attention he
wants.

But there are those who will always believe that humans are somehow different in a "superior" way, as opposed to a "just different -yet equally as different as cats are from birds" way. Maybe the fact that we have it within our ability to destroy them more effectively than most of them can destroy us is what causes us to think this. (of course, by that definition, the pending flu epidemic would suggest that a simple virus is "superior" to humans despite not having equivalent mental capabilities).

What is the most puzzling to me is that, although I was tought, through all my years of school, to believe that humans are "better" than the rest of the creatures on earth, and despite the fact that I once, for lack of critical thinking, believed that, I can't for the life of me remember how I justified such a belief. I have lost the ability to empathize with my former self.