Icy Strait, Alaska
We woke up extra early this morning for Zodiac cruises around a small island that hosts a noisy, boisterous and somewhat smelly group of Steller sea lions. Casual observation leads one to believe that all they do is bark and growl at each other, unless they’re chasing each other off their own little piece of real estate. Taking a closer look reveals a species that so needs contact with their own kind that they go out of their way to lay next to, wedged between and on top of one another. Scientists frequently warn against anthropomorphizing animal behavior, and rightly so, in many cases. There are perfectly good scientific, instinct-based reasons for what animals do, just as with us. However, to fail to see animals in all their complexity robs our world of much of what makes it beautiful. To not recognize animals like these sea lions for who they are—creatures capable of having fun, craving touch, and exhibiting tenderness—serves only to imply difference where we could see unity. The humpback whales that we watched feeding cooperatively in the evening offer another example. We could have seen a group of anonymous marine mammals making the best use of their energy to procure food. But, to our joy, we recognized Saturn, an individual we had seen some 50 miles away on the first day of our voyage. Scientists with the Alaska Whale Foundation know many of the individuals who engage in this cooperative activity by name because they come together year after year for the same purpose. These are the only other mammals that we know of who associate in this way with other unrelated members of their species. This, in combination with other things we know about humpbacks, strongly points to complex communication and perhaps even friendship. Seeing what we share with these magnificent animals, and all creatures, rather than looking for how we differ, could go a long way towards ensuring their survival.
We woke up extra early this morning for Zodiac cruises around a small island that hosts a noisy, boisterous and somewhat smelly group of Steller sea lions. Casual observation leads one to believe that all they do is bark and growl at each other, unless they’re chasing each other off their own little piece of real estate. Taking a closer look reveals a species that so needs contact with their own kind that they go out of their way to lay next to, wedged between and on top of one another. Scientists frequently warn against anthropomorphizing animal behavior, and rightly so, in many cases. There are perfectly good scientific, instinct-based reasons for what animals do, just as with us. However, to fail to see animals in all their complexity robs our world of much of what makes it beautiful. To not recognize animals like these sea lions for who they are—creatures capable of having fun, craving touch, and exhibiting tenderness—serves only to imply difference where we could see unity. The humpback whales that we watched feeding cooperatively in the evening offer another example. We could have seen a group of anonymous marine mammals making the best use of their energy to procure food. But, to our joy, we recognized Saturn, an individual we had seen some 50 miles away on the first day of our voyage. Scientists with the Alaska Whale Foundation know many of the individuals who engage in this cooperative activity by name because they come together year after year for the same purpose. These are the only other mammals that we know of who associate in this way with other unrelated members of their species. This, in combination with other things we know about humpbacks, strongly points to complex communication and perhaps even friendship. Seeing what we share with these magnificent animals, and all creatures, rather than looking for how we differ, could go a long way towards ensuring their survival.
