Scientific American August 1996 [antikvár]

T FROM THE EDITORS Aliens at Play he classic bugaboo of animal behavior research is the sin of anthropomorphism: Thou Shalt Not Think of the Beast as Man. No matter how much an animal may seem to act like a person, professors sternly warn students, never forget that millions of years of evolution mentally separate the two. 1 once made rhe mistake of smiling at a cute rhesus monkey—forgetting that among its kind, bared teeth are a call to battle. Ever seen the incisors on a rhesus monkey? They're sharp. Seeing ourselves in animals, and animals in ourselves, seems inescapable. We cannot scientifically quantify our emotional kinship, but we cannot disregard it either. Pet owners vouch for the capacity of cats, dogs and other creatures to be proud, lonely, disdainful, embarrassed and more. Meanwhile we laugh like hyenas. We preen like peacocks. We show the courage of lions and the cunning of wolves and the bland obedience of sheep. Sometimes, though, animal studies afford a chance to feel at once the similarity and the strangeness of nonhuman minds. Consider the glimpse of dolphins that Ken Marten and his colleagues offer in "Ring Bubbles of Dolphins," on page 82. Television and movies portray the cetacean star Flipper as a loyal, dependable pet who loves human company—Lassie with a blowhole. (And Lassie, very clearly, is a Boy Scout in a dog suit.) But that comparison does dolphins a disservice. These are shrewd, armless, legless creatures that spend their lives immersed in water. With their acute sonar and the sensitivity of their skin, they understand the world through hearing and touch to a degree that we cannot fully appreciate. Imagine being able to feel the morions of someone across the room. Moving effonlessly through the thin medium of air, we are almost oblivious to it. But for dolphins, water turbulence from storms, surf and their own motions is a palpable force they can readily exploit. What, then, could be more natural—for dolphins, not humans—than to invent toys made of nothing but air and swirling water? With their innate sense of fluid dynamics and a little experience, blowing bubbles with complex shapes and movements is child's play. Except, of course, that human children can't play this way at all. It would be as though we could blow smoke rings, then use them as hula hoops. Enjoy reading about this alien intelligence and marvel at how much we do—and don't—have in common with it. DOLPHIN FUN sometimes involves playing with hoops made of air. JOHN RENNIE. Editor in Chief editors@sciam.com 6 Scientific American August 1996