Our family and other animals: do we deliberately downplay other species' intelligence?

I recently heard about a project investigating canine intelligence, the results being that man's best friend can distinguish similar-sounding words, even if spoken by strangers. Yet again, it appears there is a less and less that makes our species unique: from the problem-solving skills of birds to social insects' use of farming techniques we find ourselves part of a continuum of life rather than standing alone at the apex.

Reading the Swedish philosopher Nick Bostrom's thought-provoking book Superintelligence, I was struck by his description of the variation of human intellect (from as he put it, Einstein to the village idiot) as being startling narrow when compared to the potential range of possible intelligences, both biological and artificial.

The complexity of animal brains has been analysed by both quantitive and qualititive methods, the former dealing with such measurements as the number of neurons while the latter looks at behaviour of members of a species, both in the wild and under laboratory conditions. However, a comparison of these two doesn't necessarily provide any neat correlation.

For example, although mammals are generally - and totally incorrectly - often described as the pinnacle of creation due to their complex behaviour and birth-to-adult learning curve, the quantitive differences in neural architecture within mammals are far greater than those between amphibians and some mammalian families. In addition, there are many birds, mostly in the Psittacidae (parrot) and Corvidae (crow) families, that are both quantitatively and qualitatively superior to most mammals with the exception of some primates.

I think it was the essays of evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould that introduced me to the concept of EQ or encephalisation quotient, which is a label for the brain-mass to body-mass ratio. On these terms, the human brain is far larger than nearly all other species with a similar sized body, the exception (perhaps not surprisingly) being dolphins.

However, it's difficult to draw accurate conclusions just from examination of this general trend: both the absolute size of the brain and neuron density play a fundamental role in cognitive powers. For example, gorillas have a lower EQ that some monkeys, but being a large ape have a far greater brain mass. It could be said then, that perhaps beyond a certain mass the absolute brain size renders the EQ scale of little use. A 2009 study found that different rules for scaling come into play, with humans also having a highly optimal use of the volume available with the cranium, in addition to the economical architecture common among primates.

As historian and philosopher Yuval Noah Harari has pointed out, the development of farming, at least in Eurasia, went hand in hand with the evolution of sophisticated religious beliefs. This led to a change in human attitudes towards the other animals, with a downplay of the latter's emotional needs and their categorisation as inferior, vassal species in a pre-ordained (read: divinely-given) chain of being.

By directly connecting intelligence - or a lack thereof - to empathy and emotions, it is easy to claim that domesticated animal species don't mind their ruthless treatment. It isn't just industrial agriculture that makes the most of this lack of empathy today; I've seen small sharks kept in a Far Eastern jewellery store (i.e. as decoration, not as future food) in tanks barely longer than the creature's own body length.

Although the problem-solving antics of birds such as crows are starting to redress this, most people still consider animal intelligence strictly ordered by vertebrate classes, which leads to such inaccuracies as the 'three second goldfish memory'. I first noticed how incorrect this was when keeping freshwater invertebrates, namely shield shrimp A.K.A. triops, almost a decade ago. Even these tiny creatures appear to have a range of personalities, or perhaps I should say - in an effort to avoid blatant anthropomorphizing - a wide variety of behaviour.

Now on the verge of setting up a tropical aquarium for one of my children, I've been researching what is required to keep fish in fairly small tanks. I've spoken to various aquarium store owners and consulted numerous online resources, learning in the process that the tank environment needs to fulfill certain criteria. There's nothing in usual in this you might think, except that the psychological requirements need to be considered alongside the physical ones.

For example, tank keepers use words such as 'unhappy' and 'depression' to describe what happens when schooling fish are kept in too small a group, active swimmers in too little space and timid species housed in an aquarium without hiding places. We do not consider this fish infraclass - i.e. teleosts - to be Einsteins (there's that label again) of the animal kingdom, but it would appear we just haven't been observing them with enough rigour. They may have minute brains, but there is a complexity that suggests a certain level of emotional intelligence in response to their environment.

So where does all this leave us Homo sapiens, masters of all we survey? Neanderthal research is increasingly espousing the notion that in many ways these extinct cousins/partial ancestors could give us modern humans a run for our money. Perhaps our success is down to one particular component of uniqueness, namely our story-telling ability, a product of our vivid imagination.

Simply because other species lack this skill doesn't mean that they don't have any form of intellectual ability; they may indeed have a far richer sense of their universe than we would like to believe. If our greatest gift is our intelligence, don't we owe it to all other creatures we raise and hold captive to make their lives as pleasant as possible? Whether it's battery farming or keeping goldfish in a bowl, there's plenty we could do to improve things if we consider just what might be going on in the heads of our companion critters.

Anti-avian ingenuity: the numerous ways to minimise airport bird strikes

The widespread installation of wind turbines over the past three decades has generated a new ecologically unfriendly phenomenon, namely wild birds being killed by turbine sails. Although it could cause maintenance issues - and of course it's not good news for the birds themselves, the increasing density of air travel means far higher numbers of bird strikes are likely to occur in the much smaller turbines of jet engines, predominantly around airports.

I've previously written about how urban environments appear to generate wildlife somewhat smarter than rural equivalents. In contrast, airports seem to be a very poor choice for birds to inhabit, suggesting that the loss of natural environments coupled with the relatively undeveloped land around airport perimeters is causing birds to congregate in such precarious places.

It's somewhat ironic that such an environmentally unfriendly technology as air travel is inadvertently providing habitats for wild birds, but as urban sprawl increases animals are forced to live wherever they can find, even areas as seemingly unsuitable as runway taxiways and safety areas. As aircraft increase in size and speed but decrease in engine noise, it may be that aviation technology is contributing to the problem. In addition, waterfowl are attracted by the fresh water storage ponds found near runways for use in firefighting or drainage. Therefore, despite the noise, pollution, changes to local weather patterns and the obstacles in the form of the aircraft themselves, airports worldwide have found themselves becoming home to or visited by flocks of numerous bird species.

With over forty bird strikes every day, the cost to the global airline industry surpasses US$1 billion per year. So what is being done to reduce or remove this threat? The range of options is both ingenious and proof that birds are a formidable opponent, so here is a brief summary of popular methods:

1. Removing food and water sources
2. Audio repellents
3. Chemical repellents
4. Fake fire and pyrotechnics
5. Baited traps
6. Real and fake predators
7. Removing and culling birds

1) Reducing bird foodstuffs involves a variety of techniques that aren't exactly the height of eco-friendliness. Any vegetation that might be a food source for local bird species, such as fruit- or seed-bearing trees and bushes may be removed. One step further is to replace any grass areas with a non-local variety that is less attractive to native birds.

A substantially less environmentally-friendly approach has been the regular use of insecticides to remove food sources for insectivorous birds and even distributing poison to remove potential raptor prey such as rabbits. Open water storage ponds within airports have been netted to prevent waterfowl from landing on them, but camouflage has also been developed specifically to minimise the attractiveness of large bodies of water.

2) Some airports such as Singapore's Changi play bird distress and/or raptor calls to scare birds away. A less subtle method has been the regular discharge of loud sounds generated by sonic cannon such as propane exploders. However, evidence suggests that birds soon become accustomed to these.

3) As an antithesis to the removal of food sources described above, adding chemical repellents to airport vegetation is now being used. Since 2010, New Zealand airports have been using a a locally-developed grass, which contains an endophyte fungus that reduces insect numbers and makes birds sick. This may prove to be easier to implement than natural chemical repellents imported from agribusiness, such as methyl anthranilate and anthraquinone, which require sophisticated, ongoing and locally-tailored programmes to maintain effectiveness.

4) Although it might sound high-tech, the use of wind-blown metallic streamers that simulate fire have been found to only fool birds for short periods. Likewise, the use of lasers, flare launchers and other live pyrotechnic devices serve to acclimatise local wildfowl to sudden noise and light. After all, the birds are already congregating around noisy aircraft for much of the day!

5) For airports frequented by raptors, live prey such as pigeons can serve as bait for sophisticated traps that notify staff once they have been triggered. The problem then is where to release the bird of prey so that it doesn't return to the original area.

6) The opposite of the previous method is to swamp the locality with trained predators, from dogs to raptors, in order to convince birds to nest elsewhere. The predators don't have to always be live, either: in the USA, fake coyotes have been used in wetlands to keep birds away from flight paths.

7) If all other methods fail, there are several time-consuming alternatives that could be used as a last resort. Firstly, birds can be caught and moved to regions far from airports. Naturally, this requires collaboration with wildlife experts and/or rangers. As a guaranteed solution, culling may also be allowed, although this is hardly going to endear most people to a sector that, essential though it is, has a rather poor environmental record.

One potential smart solution for civilian aviation has been developed for the Royal Netherlands Air Force, which involves constant radar monitoring of wildfowl so that pilots can adjust their take-off and landing flight paths. Apart from lack of the technology at airports, each airport would need long-term trials to determine the appropriate adjustments with regard to local bird populations and their behaviour.

From what I've learnt while researching this issue, there is probably no single solution suitable for all airports; a suite of methods is required, tailored for each one depending on the local landscape, climate and of course bird species - the latter being wily and unpredictable adversaries. Clearly, there's a long way to go if such drastic solutions as culling the birds themselves and poisoning the wider ecosystem are seen as valid options. It looks as if more research is required before the danger to both airliners and birds can be reduced, although I doubt if it could ever be completely eliminated; nature is just too unpredictable!

My family & other animals: what is it that makes Homo sapiens unique?

It's a curious thing, but I can't recall ever having come across a comprehensive assessment of what differentiates Homo sapiens from all other animals. Hence this post is a brief examination on what I have found out over the years. I originally thought of dividing it into three neat sections, but quickly discovered that this would be, as Richard Dawkins once put it, 'a gratuitously manufactured discontinuity in a continuous reality.' In fact, I found a reasonably smooth gradation between these segments:

1. Long-held differences now found to be false
2. Possibly distinctions - but with caveats
3. Uniquely human traits

Despite the carefully-observed, animal-centered stories of early civilisations - Aesop's fable of The Crow and the Pitcher springs to mind - the conventional wisdom until recently was that animals are primarily automatons and as such readily exploitable by humanity. Other animals were deemed vastly inferior to us by a question of kind, not just degree, with a complete lack of awareness of themselves as individuals.

The mirror test developed in 1970 has disproved that for a range of animals, from the great apes to elephants, dolphins to New Caledonian crows. Therefore, individuals of some species can differentiate themselves from their kin, leading to complex and fluid hierarchies within groups - and in the case of primates, some highly Machiavellian behaviour.

Man the tool-maker has been a stalwart example of humanity's uniqueness, but a wide range of animals in addition to the usual suspects (i.e. great apes, dolphins and Corvidae birds) are now known to make and use tools on a regular basis. Examples include sea otters, fish, elephants, and numerous bird species, the latter creating everything from fish bait to insect probes. Even octopuses are known to construct fences and shelters, such as stacking coconut shells - but then they do have eight ancillary brains in addition to the main one!

We recognise regional variations in human societies as the result of culture, but some animal species also have geographically-differentiated traits or tools that are the obvious equivalent. Chimpanzees are well known for their variety of techniques used in obtaining food or making tools. These skills are handed down through the generations, remaining different to those used in neighbouring groups.

Interestingly, farming has really only been adopted by the most humble of organisms, namely the social insects. Ants and termites farm aphids and fungi in their complex, air-conditioned cities that have more than a touch of Aldous Huxley's Brave New World about them; in a few species, the colonies may even largely consist of clones!

Although many animals construct nests, tunnels, dams, islets or mounds, these appear to serve purely functional purposes: there is no equivalent of the human architectural aesthetic. Octopus constructions aside, birds for example will always build a structure that resembles the same blueprint used by the rest of their kind.

Many species communicate by aural, gestural or pheremonal languages, but only humans can store information outside of the body and across generations living at different times. Bird song might sound pretty, but again, this appears to be a series of basic, hard-wired, communications. Conversely, humpback whale song may contain artistic values but we just don't know enough about it to judge it in this light.

Birds and monkeys are happy to hoard interesting objects, but there is little aesthetic sense in animals other than that required to identify a high-quality mate. In contrast, there is evidence to suggest that other species in the hominin line, such as Neanderthals and Homo erectus, created art in forms recognisable today, including geometric engravings and jewellery.

Some of our ancestor's earliest artworks are realistic representations, whereas when armed with a paint brush, captive chimps and elephants produce abstract work reminiscent of pre-school children. We should remember that only since the start of the Twentieth Century has abstract art become an acceptable form for professional artists.

Jane Goodall's research on the Gombe chimps shows that humans are not the only animal to fight and kill members of the same species for reasons other than predation or rivalry. Sustained group conflict may be on a smaller scale and have less rules than sanctioned warfare, but it still has enough similarity to our own violence to say that humanity is not its sole perpetrator. One interesting point is that although chimps have been known to use sharpened sticks to spear prey, they haven't as yet used their weapons on each other.

Chimpanzees again have been shown to empathise with other members of their group, for example after the death of a close relative. Altruism has also been observed in the wild, but research suggests there is frequently another motive involved as part of a long-term strategy. This is countered with the notion that humans are deemed able to offer support without the expectation of profit or gain in the future; then again, what percentage of such interactions are due to a profitless motivation is open to suggestion.

A tricky area is to speculate on the uniqueness of ritual to Homo sapiens. While we may have usurped the alpha male position in domesticated species such as dogs, their devotion and loyalty seems too far from deity worship to be a useful comparison; certainly the idea of organised religion has to be alien to all other species? Archaeological evidence shows what appears to be Neanderthal rituals centred on cave bears, as well as funereal rites, but the DNA evidence for interbreeding with modern humans doesn't give enough separation to allow religion to be seen as anything other than a human invention. What is probably true though is that we are the only species aware of our own mortality.

One area in which humans used to be deemed sole practitioners is abstract thought, but even here there is evidence that the great apes have some capability, albeit no greater than that of a pre-schooler. Common chimps and bonobos raised in captivity have learnt - in some cases by observation, rather than being directly taught - how to use sign language or lexigrams to represent objects and basic grammar. It's one thing to see a button with a banana on it and to learn that pressing it produces a banana, but to receive the same reward for pressing an abstract symbol shows a deeper understanding of relationship and causality.

A consideration of a potential future is also shared with birds of the Corvidae family, who are able to plan several steps ahead. Where humans are clearly far ahead is due to a gain in degree rather than just kind. Namely, we have the ability to consider numerous future paths and act accordingly; this level of sophistication and branch analysis appears to be uniquely human, allowing us to cogitate about possibilities in the future that might occur - or may never be possible. Both prose and poetic literature are likely to be uniquely human; at least until we can decipher humpback whale song.

Finally, there is science, possibly the greatest of human inventions. The multifarious aspects of the scientific endeavour, from tentative hypothesis to experimentation, advanced mathematics to working theory, are unlikely to be understood let alone attempted by any other species. The combination of creative and critical thinking, rigour and repetition, and objectivity and analysis require the most sophisticated object in the known universe, the human brain. That's not to say there aren't far more intelligent beings out there somewhere, but for now there is one clear activity that defines us as unique. And thank goodness it isn't war!

Birds, bugs and butterflies: attracting nature to your garden

For many years I've tried to attract wildlife to my garden; perhaps there's something extremely relaxing about watching other components of the biosphere go about their business. Even the closest I lived to the heart of London, a largely overgrown garden provided a haven for all sorts of creatures from tiny wrens via boisterous squirrels to the odd, slightly mangy fox. Although I've discussed the behavioural changes seemingly present in urban animals I thought it would be worth exploring the pros and cons of attracting various critters to your garden.

As a child our family supported winter visitors, usually with bread crusts for birds and cow's milk - for some unknown reason - for hedgehogs. I've since learnt that the latter is a very poor choice as hedgehog food, so where the idea came from I don't know. Mind you, much bacon rind is probably too salty for birds, so I wonder how many animals we killed with our kindness! If you want to feed hedgehogs, cat and dog food is apparently among the suitable alternatives. Not that these days we put anything out for the hedgehogs that occasionally appear in our garden, often disappearing behind the wood pile at night when I'm out at the telescope (and startling me with their sudden snuffling). The reason isn't due to being anti-hedgehog, but the food would most likely attract other, less welcome rodents such as rats and mice.

Interestingly, hedgehogs are amongst the survivors brought to New Zealand by acclimatisation societies in the Nineteenth Century, along with many European bird species that also congregate in our garden: sparrows, blackbirds, starlings, song thrushes and various finches. As a side note, it would be interesting to tabulate these against the many imported species that didn't survive their first year in the New Zealand wild, such as robins and emus; clearly, there's some unknown adaption criteria going on here.

One problem I frequently faced in the UK but don't any more is the seemingly inexhaustible ingenuity of squirrels in getting to the content of bird feeders, as described in the post above. However, possums imported from Australia fulfil a similar, if nocturnal role in New Zealand, and are a major pest for numerous reasons. Again, keeping bird food for only birds is a primary consideration. Not that birds don't show cunning when it comes to getting at food: I remember visiting the Zealandia eco-sanctuary near Wellington many years ago and seeing the kaka bush parrot feeding from mini bins opened via foot pedal - that's the parrot's foot, not a human one.

Back to now. So why attract wild animals to your garden? Usually it's a two-way gain - humans watch the antics for minimal expenditure and the fauna get food, shelter or even a bath. It offers children a close up view of nature and the realisation that you don't have to go to zoos and wildlife parks for the experience: nature is all around us. It also introduces them to the diversity of the local biosphere as opposed to just the typical, ‘grand' fauna such as African savannah species or large sharks and rays that are kept in zoos and aquaria. To this end, the UK's Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) organised the Big Wild Sleepout last weekend, the idea being to camp in your own garden or at an organised event in order to hear and possibly even see the nocturnal creatures we don't usually come into contact with. I only tend to be outside at night if I'm at the telescope, and must confess to frequently hearing the unmistakeable cry of the morepork, New Zealand's only native owl, but have yet to see one.

Talking of owls, birds are the obvious favourite to attract to your property, since it's easy for them to get around and escape from predators such as domestic cats. According to the RSPB over half of UK adults have fed garden birds. In recent years organisations have started to take advantage of all this previously unrecorded observational data by encouraging the public to submit sighting reports for collation. These projects range from observing familiar creatures such as butterflies and ladybirds, to tracking the growth of invasive species such as New Zealand stick insects in the UK's South West. The RSPB, which is a veteran of collecting such data, utilised a weekend in January this year for their Big Garden Birdwatch, the world's largest wildlife survey.

Following the State of Nature report released in May this year, it sounds like this sort of project hasn't come a moment too soon. The new assessment was compiled by twenty-five British wildlife organisations including the RSPB and makes for a sobering conclusion. It found that 60% of the 3,148 UK species under assessment have declined over the last half century, with slightly over 10% deemed under threat of extinction in the UK. It's impossible to know if the situation is similar in other nations, but such worrying statistics suggest that any help given by the public to aid biodiversity can only be for the better. But as per the hedgehogs and milk example, what other pitfalls are there to befriending fauna?

It is fairly widely known that common foodstuffs such as salted peanuts and desiccated coconut should not be given to birds, but how many people remember to soak white bread before putting it out so that it doesn't swell inside the animals' stomachs? Although you can buy purpose-made bird seed mixtures it is cheaper - and frequently better - if possible to grow a bird-friendly garden yourself. It depends on what species live locally, but some birds like open lawn for insect feeding, others prefer overgrown areas (the goldfinches in my garden are very keen on the latter) whilst other species prefer fruit or nectar direct from the tree or bush.

It isn't just birds either: as a child I remember a buddleia bush that attracted at least four species of butterfly whilst here in New Zealand a swan plant (a type of milkweed) plays host to dozens of monarch butterfly caterpillars over the summer. In addition, praying mantises lay their egg sacks on just about any vertical surface in our garden, masonry or timber, so spring sees a profusion of baby mantises heading for undergrowth. The trick is to keep them away from the swan plant; otherwise the caterpillars tend to disappear in their early stages at the expense of the mantises...

In contrast to planting your own, commercial ready-made food mixtures may have large carbon footprints or be grown in developing nations that could better use the land and effort for growing their own food. In addition, messy eaters will cause seeds to drop onto the ground where sterilised seeds can choke native growth and the non-sterilised ones germinate: we once even had a hemp plant that grew several metres in a month or so from some spilt seed!

Therefore having plants or garden layouts that provide food for birds can be as good as leaving out scraps or purpose-bought food. I suppose the main difference with the latter two is that you can place them where you like for ease of viewing. After all, watching birds eat is the primary attraction. Although you can buy bird feeders I prefer to make my own, with a variety of success rates depending on the design. The most popular to date has proved to be table hung from a cherry tree, with half apples spiked on nails attracting a regular stream of silvereyes. Here in New Zealand you can even feed nectar eaters such as tuis via an old wine bottle containing sugar solution.

One important issue is when you should feed wildlife. The best time of year is obviously winter, when natural foodstuffs are least available. As a general rule, it's probably best to stop feeding once chicks arrive, so that both they and their parents don't start relying on human support. However, in addition to providing food you can also create habitats suitable for assorted wildlife from mammals to invertebrates. As a boy I made a nesting box for a Cub Scout badge, but it was never inhabited, probably being located in too low and too busy a position for birds to consider safe. Today you can buy all sorts of homes and feeders suitable for different species and climates so there's no shortage of easy options. The RSPB recently started supplying a free guide to building animal homes in your garden, ranging from bird box to hedgehog shelter. I can even claim success with my homemade weta motel (current resident: one female tree weta), although it took some time to gain any inhabitants other than numerous, small cockroaches. Note the weta legs poking out of the hole below!

Most of these are generally great aids to wildlife and observing wildlife, although I find the idea of building small ponds not particularly attractive since any standing water in my gardens usually attracts biting insects to lay their eggs in it. When I lived in East London any empty plant pot that collected rainwater swarmed with wriggling mosquito larvae in next to no time. Not nice!

The one thing about this sort of amateur interaction with biology is that you can do as much or little as you like as quickly or slowly as you like, but you are bound to get some form of success. Having said that, there are still plenty of species I'd like to spot in my garden. I have a large pile of volcanic stone that would look good in a far corner of the back garden as a potential lizard home; friends down the road are lucky enough to have skinks and geckos around their grounds. I'm also ever hopeful of various sections of rotting timber serving as home to peripatus -  a.k.a. velvet worm - an ancient form of life that lies somewhere between worms and arthropods. Although I've definitely seen some small white things that might just possibly be very young ones...

Animal farm: agricultural revolutions happening in your own garden

Various forms of symbiosis - the mutual interactions between species - have long been recognised, not least the hundreds of microorganisms that co-exist within and upon us Homo sapiens. But going beyond mere symbiosis, there appear to be examples of interactions between species that are nothing less than astonishing. Following a recent spate of television documentaries on the Neolithic period, the time when humans started to farm first animals and then crops, it seemed a good excuse to look at examples of other animals that also farm. Although mostly restricted to arable farmers (technically speaking, fungi culturists) there is also one fascinating case of pastoralism.

The best-known examples are probably insects, with many species of leaf-cutter ant and termites known to farm strains of fungi as a food source. It has been assumed (although I’m not sure on what basis, since farming activity would presumably be invisible to the fossil record) that these insects developed their sophisticated social structures, including caste systems, prior to the adoption of farming. This is the direct reverse of the earliest human farmers, wherein the earliest cities of the Near East, for example, arose after livestock domestication. It’s difficult to see how insects started the process and raises the interesting question of whether it offers the farming species any superiority over non-farmers of similar genera. After all, in human cultures it appears that early farmers had to work far harder for their daily bread than the gatherer-hunters who preceded them, the latter being a way of life that continues in isolated pockets even to this day. So it may not be an improvement on non-farming lifestyles - just different. Another nail in the coffin for any followers of the Victorian notion of progress…

Staying with insects, a diverse group of over three thousand beetles cultivate the ambrosia fungus for food, in a relationship thought to stretch back tens of millions of years. Unlike ants and termites, these beetle species do not all live in large, strictly-organised colonies. Heading for wetter environments, marsh snails have also been found to cultivate fungus that is ‘sown’ from spores embedded in their own excrement! Then in the water itself, some species of damselfish farm algae on the remnants of coral they have themselves killed, a process that bares a striking resemblance to Amazonian deforestation for cattle ranching. Unfortunately, the fishing by humans of damselfish predators has had the effect of aiding the population of fishy farmers and thus only increased the rate of coral loss.

Finally, the pastoralist in the pack, our everyday common or garden ant. In a bizarre simulcrum of dairy farming, some ant species control, supervise and ‘milk’ aphids. Had the species involved been more cuddly (i.e. one of us mammals) then it might have seemed all the more astonishing – a real-life antidote to Beatrix Potter-esque anthropomorphism. As it is these genuine animal farmers, with individual brains weighing a few thousandths of a gram, will drug aphids, protect them from predators and bad weather, and even use biochemicals to affect their growth patterns. And all in return for the honeydew they extract from the aphids.

You may have noticed the use of very human activities in these descriptions: domestication; caste systems; protection, etc. We are only just beginning to understand the behavioural diversity to found amongst other species, only to find we are continuously removing yet more barriers that differentiate ourselves from the rest of the biosphere. It is tempting to suggest this last example of animal farmers includes a form of slavery, with drug-controlled drones and just a whif of Brave New World. If these examples of non-human farmers were found on another planet, would we possibly consider it to be a sign, incredibly alien to be sure, of intelligence? Clearly, the brain size of the individuals involved doesn’t count for much, but a colony of 40,000 ants has the collective number of brain cells of one human. If the ants were able to store information in chemical signatures, something akin to a library, then wouldn’t this be a form of hive mind? Speculative nonsense of course, but does anyone remember the 1970’s film Phase IV?

It’s difficult to be anything other than dumbfounded as we learn more about animal behaviour, especially at what seems to be a programmed/non-conscious level. If the permutations are like this on Earth, the possibilities on other worlds are seemingly limitless. Again, this questions whether we could even recognise whether another species is intelligent or not. Perhaps Douglas Adams put it best: "Man has always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much...the wheel, New York, wars and so on...while all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man...for precisely the same reason."

Enough said!