Wild

There has been a recent shift in favor of things considered natural. People are choosing clothing, food, cleansers and building materials that come from simple, natural sources. The supposed purposes for this trend are the preservation of the environment through the use of renewable resources and the promotion of our health and well-being.

An example of this way of thinking is the Paleolithic diet. This eating regimen is built on the premise that we humans, like other creatures, should eat what is natural for our species to eat, which apparently is whatever our ancestors evolved to eat during the Paleolithic era. There are at least three problems with this idea.

The first is that we are only presuming to know what our ancestors were eating at the time of their most recent evolutionary dietary transition. The second issue is that what is natural is not always the superior choice (most medicines are not natural). The third problem is that the evolution of humans was drastically altered when we became self-aware. We are no longer wild, for we took control of our evolutionary destiny and, along with it, the destiny of the creatures we domesticated.

We’ve already discussed the natural state of humans and how it is largely determined by the presence of human society, but what is the natural state of an animal? More specifically, what is the natural state of a tamed animal, if there is such a thing? There are four general responses to this question, each embodied by a group of people.

The first group believes that animals, or at least the more important animals, must remain wild. They would define a wild animal as one living in its natural habitat without human interference. Those from this camp would argue that what is best for the animal is what is natural, even if that means a high risk of starvation, predation, disease, isolation, etc. To them, the concept of owning and using animals for our benefit is comparable to slavery.

The second group has no concern for the animal’s nature, seeking only to cater to the whims of their captive critter. These are pet owners who will purchase their pets extravagant toys, food and even clothing in an effort to appease them. Rather than the animal functioning as companion or slave, it is essentially elevated to the level of a human child in a demented effort to satisfy lingering or neglected parental instincts.

The third group tolerates the captivity and ownership of animals, but also believes that animals were not meant to exist in the human world. Because of this, their creatures are given ample room to roam and are often fed a diet that resembles what they would eat in the wild. These people attempt to respect animals even as they profit from and consume them.

The fourth and final group sees animals as a commodity and cares nothing for their natural state or desires. To them, animals are merely a resource to be harvested, like plants. And much like plants, they are often packed closely together and only given what is necessary to grow.

So who is right? Well the answer depends not only on how we value animals, but also our understanding of what it means to be wild. The first group would argue that animals are wild by nature, meaning that their natural and therefore best state is one of freedom from human intervention. This sounds like a wonderful idea, but we know from examining the nature of humans that we share a similar state of natural wildness, yet few would argue that feral humans are our finest incarnation. The second and third group both acknowledge that animals have a natural wild state, but also believe that their lives are improved through taming. The final group has no interest in what it means to be wild apart from how it can benefit their ability to cultivate their creatures and maximize profit. Few would argue that this last approach is the most beneficial for the animal.

So the crux of the disagreement is whether or not animals benefit from being tamed. But since most animals are unable express their emotions in ways we can understand, especially wild ones, the answer is largely left to our interpretation. However, there are some who argue that it’s okay to tame some species but not others. Let’s explore this claim.

We often hear stories of pets (usually exotic ones) who turn on their masters, attacking them for no apparent reason. This sparks comments like, “that’s what happens when you keep a wild animal in your house,” implying that some animals are wild and others are not. In a historical sense, this is somewhat accurate, since there are certain species that are traditionally tamed or domesticated (bred by humans for certain purposes). However, to assert that some animals remain wild after taming is both a semantic and logical error.

Animals, like humans, have two basic behavioral states: wild and tame. Since we described a wild animal as one that is free from human intervention, then a tame animal must be one that has integrated with humans. Here are some simple statements that may help us understand the situation:

  • A creature cannot be both wild and tame.
  • All creatures are inherently wild.
  • A wild creature, when properly tamed, loses its wildness.
  • A poorly or partially tamed creature may retain a degree of wildness.
  • Some creatures are more difficult to tame than others.

Now that we share an understanding of the situation, we can dissect the definition of tame. Taming is traditionally defined as the process by which humans integrate animals into their own society, but this does not explain what’s really going on. When we tame an animal, we raise its social compatibility. But this begs some interesting questions: is the process of elevating a human to be compatible with human society not a form of taming as well? If so, is a wolf teaching its pups to behave like wolves also taming them? What about when a human is raised by wolves to integrate with wolf society? A more holistic definition of taming would be the process by which a creature of one species is attuned to the society of another species, but this merely confuses the matter.

Since humans are the highest form of creature and the only species capable of understanding the concept of taming, we perceive a tamed animal as one that is attuned to our society. However, a wolf might consider an adopted squirrel tamed, if it were able to contemplate such things, while we would not. And if a wild wolf is one raised by wolves, then a wild human must be one raised by humans. This is illogical, however, because we traditionally define wildness as an inherent quality of untamed creatures and because we consider ourselves tame; both of these things can’t be true. If taming is the attunement of one species to another species, then humans can’t be tame.

We must use the traditional definition of taming as the process by which a creature of any species is attuned to human society. But that raises the question of how a higher form of intelligence, such as an advanced alien civilization or a race of genetically-enhanced humans, might perceive us. To them, we would be wild beasts in need of taming. That brings up another interesting question: if taming is the attunement of a creature to human society, can we tame each other? Indeed, it was common knowledge in colonial times that native tribes were primitive, lower races in need of taming. The rejection of this idea may be tied to our growing affection for natural things, since it’s easy to argue that these tribes could have benefited from Western medicine and technology.

In any case, taming animals causes enough debate. Just remember that a pet wolf is not wild animal.

Animal Value

When the last whale washes up on shore,
When the last elephant is poached for its tusks,
When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain,
We will mourn.

But who will mourn the snail, the spider, the mouse?
The mole, the gnat, the tick, the grouse?
The fly on our windshield, the ant beneath our feet?
Or the swarms of rodents infesting our streets?

People hold many different views on the role and value of animals in our society, but one thing that they all agree on, whether they would admit it or not, is that some animals are more valuable than others.

Every species has a value, and that value is based its intelligence, size and majesty. We will now look at each of these features in order to better understand how to rank an animal’s value. Let’s start with the least important feature, intelligence.

When animals show intelligence, we see something of ourselves in them, and a kinship is created. When we watch a raven solve a puzzle, a dolphin swim along side a vessel or a dog wag its tail with glee, we can’t help but project our emotions onto those creatures and treat them as a fellow member of the elite league of intelligent creatures. Conversely, when we watch an animal do something stupid, like when a bird flies in front of a car, a fish jumps out of its aquarium or an insect flies into our mouth, we can’t help but feel estranged from such creatures. We just can’t imagine what, if anything, they were thinking, and so we treat them with disdain.

Because humans are both the most important and the most intelligent animal, we might think that intelligence is the most important feature, but there are many animals that show high intelligence that are not valued very highly, most notably pigeons and rats.

The second most important feature is size. When an animal is small, we tend not to care about it. When was the last time we shed a tear for a bee or a louse? It can’t be a coincidence that all of the creatures adored by animal activists are relatively large. As an example, if we were to rank the importance of a rabbit, a snail, a cow, a whale and a salamander, the result would be as follows:

  1. Whale
  2. Cow
  3. Rabbit
  4. Salamanter
  5. Snail

The reason why size is important is not exactly clear. Part of the reason could be that we cannot relate to tiny creatures because we cannot easily see them, which makes it difficult to understand them and observe their complexities. Another reason could be that smaller animals tend to exist in large numbers, which makes them seem expendable. It could also be that small creatures do not have much, if any, blood, so their deaths are not gruesome and traumatic. Size matters, but sometimes small animals can have big value, as is the case with seahorses, hummingbirds and most infant animals.

The final and most important feature in animal value is majesty. Majesty is why we prefer parrots over possums and bears over barracuda. The majesty of an animal has many facets, including age, adorability, ferocity, beauty, rarity, strength, fragility and peculiarity, but it is hard to define concretely. There are, however, some general guidelines that majestic animals tend to follow. Here are a few of them:

  • Don’t carry diseases.
  • Don’t sting or bite humans.
  • Don’t have small, soulless eyes.
  • Don’t be belligerent and numerous.
  • Don’t eat human food.
  • Don’t suck blood.
  • Don’t screech or buzz.
  • Don’t have more than four legs.
  • Don’t crawl or slither.
  • Don’t secrete anything.

Majestic animals don’t do these things; they soar, roar, gallop, glide, splash and sing. Animals that don’t follow these guidelines are subject to hatred and revulsion. One creature that is currently experiencing the negative effects of having a low animal value is the mosquito.

Bill Gates, a well-known wealthy person, has declared war on the mosquito because it spreads malaria, a disease that is responsible for hundreds of thousands of human deaths every year. Gates is bent on the eradication of these helpless insects, which are not defended by animal rights groups simply because they have little value.

So be careful, little creatures, what you do.

Adorability

Why do humans domesticate animals? Obviously, we harvest them for their delicious meat and furry skin, harness their strength for transportation and agriculture and breed them to be sold. But to capture and cage an animal merely to enjoy its presence? This is surely a strange thing to do.

There are some unique reasons for humans taking animals into captivity: the owner could be disabled, using the animal to enhance their deteriorating sense of smell, the animal could also be used to fight crime by sniffing suitcases at the airport, or perhaps the owner desired to impress their friends by purchasing an exotic pet, such as an orangutan or rhinoceros. These explanations are certainly legitimate, but the majority of pets are purchased at a young age, before they can fight crime or plow fields, and many species, such as cats, are neither useful, exotic nor do they make steadfast companions. The most common reason why a human will buy a pet is that it is cute.

If we imagine a cuddly baby animal, we usually think of a kitten or puppy, for they are the most common cuties picked up from local pet shops, but our appetite for the adorable extends to rodents and reptiles as well. Baby goats, turtles, owls and bears – we love them all – but why? What is it about these infant creatures that makes us want to pick them up, snuggle them and mutter high-pitched gibberish?

Most of us associate adorability with certain morphological proportions. One attribute commonly associated with cuteness is large eyes, but the creature with the largest eyes in proportion to its body is the vampire squid, which is hardly a cuttlefish. Another proportional association, commonly observed in newborn humans, is short limbs and an oversize head. However, Tyrannosaurus is famous for its incredibly short arms and is known as a modern icon of savage predation. As well, a sperm whale’s head can grow to 1,400 cubic feet (one-third of its body size), and they are awful brutes, undeserving of affection. Perhaps proportion isn’t the solution.

Maybe the answer is behavior. We recognize certain whimpers and cries as cute sounds, but that is probably because we know that they are coming from a adorable, vulnerable life form. Newborns are also noticeably clumsier and less stable than their adult counterparts. Clumsy babies are definitely cute, but there’s nothing cute about a grown person falling down – it is merely hilarious.

Many of us associate cuteness with size, since young animals are both smaller and cuter than adults. However, being smaller than an adult does not guarantee that an animal will be cute. Pandas, for example, are born as hideous, pink, eyeless blobs. The animal must be both small in comparison to an adult, as well as recognizable as one of its kind. It seems as though the vital characteristic that all cute baby animals share is that they are a shrunken version of an adult of their species. Now that we know how they can be cute, we can begin to wonder why they are cute.

When we encounter a young animal, we are overcome with concern for the tiny creature. This could be an instinct which causes us to care for our young, but why would it make us concerned for the young of another species? Adorability could be a trick that young animals use to discourage predators from devouring them, which explains why humans tend to feel guilty about eating young animals. Unfortunately for lambs, they are far too delicious for their cuteness to save them. Perhaps cuteness is merely an emotional reaction to observing the fragility of an unusually small version of a creature. These explanations seem viable, but cuteness can be found in places outside of the animal kingdom.

If small size and resemblance to adults is what makes baby animals cute, this could also apply to any other miniature replication. When we shrink down spoons, dolls, food and furniture, they also become adorable, and they aren’t even alive! Do not be deceived; cuteness is merely an instinctive concern for fragility brought on by the observation of an unusually tiny version of an object or creature.

Remember, baby turtles and alligators may seem like a cute idea for a pet, but they grow up!