Trading Apes
O.K. So my version of tomorrow is a bit different than yours. So is "God's". If His day doesn't have to have a set 24 hrs. in it (and, if one wishes to reconcile evolution with creation, that's the best place to start, imo.), mine doesn't have to, either. After all, in blog terms I'm "God" here. How long would a day actually be if we looked at the revolution time of the entire universe around some set spot somewhere in the middle of it, anyway?
At any rate, here is my very favorite story to date illustrating Orangutan intelligence and ability to reason. I will warn you. It is not PG, and is not a story I tell when very young children are actively listening to what I might be saying.
This is a story I heard from a former currator at our zoo. It is true, but names will not be revealed for two reasons. First, this is not a story a zoo would want repeated except within the zoo community. I would not reveal it if for only this reason. Second, I have forgotten which zoo he told me experienced this lesson and, since I wouldn't tell anyone anyway, it hasn't been important enough for to me to ask him again.
There is a zoo here in the U.S. that has, or had - in case they have remodeled since this occured - a moated Orangutan exhibit. You've seen them. Maybe not with Orangutans, but with other species. They are open air exhibits that use an expanse of open water as part (it's always only a part, not the whole) of the means of separating the animals from the humans.
While they do a good job of keeping the human visitors separated from the species on exhibit they can't keep everything apart. Wild birds quite often use these water spaces as a temporary - or semi-permanent - home during their migratory season. Wild ducks, in particular, like to use zoo moats as their summer homes, breeding and raising their young during the summer months and migrating south for the winter, only to return the following summer.
I digress, but I must talk about Buster. He is the only wild duck at our zoo that has a name. He showed up at the moat running through our African savannah exhibit four years ago, on his first migration back to the north. Was he born here, or did he just find us? Who knows? His upper bill had been torn by something. Again, we have no idea what. But a portion of it was partially torn off and dangling. There were a few attempts to capture him in order to render first aid, but he fended off all attempts.
Both out of attempts to make a rescue and pity for his temporarily hindered feeding ability, zoo staff broke the hardfast rule against feeding the wildlife and supplemented his diet. (We want them to migate - it's what they are supposed to do - and, in an ideal zoo world, we'd as soon they not come back as they can introduce disease into our captive population. The last thing we want s for them to decide to overwinter. We don't want them to die, but we can't afford to feed them all, much less house them.) Nature prevailed and eventually the damaged portion fell off and the remaining bill healed over leaving him with an upper bill a bit shorter than the lower and marred by some scar tissue.
As a good duck should, he migrated with the flock. And, as a good friend should, he's returned every year. With his distinctive bill he is easily recognized. He has fathered any number of chicks. And, even though he no longer requires it, everyone turns a bit of a blind eye if maybe a bit of grain or corn gets spilled his way. He's come back every year. We look for him. He's here now. And, I think that the year that he finally doesn't return there will be a bit of sadness in everyones heart that will almost equal the sadness we feel when we lose a "real" member of our animal family.
Back to the Orang story. Like ours, ducks would migrate in and out as the seasons turned. Captive animals get used to the wildlife that share their space. (Even the cheetah and tiger cubs have grown enough, and gotten used to them enough, that they rarely bother to chase the squirrels that share their yard. We're not finding near as many left over tails this year.)
But, this zoo had a young, adolescent, Orang who hadn't been exposed enough to be jaded to the migratory ducks, yet. One day, as a duck went sailing past in the moat, he reached out and grabbed it. He didn't kill it, he just grabbed and held onto it. He was quite proud of himself. It moved. It was animated. It was a cool toy. He carried it around his exhibit and showed it to the people watching. It flapped. People laughed and pointed. Orangs, like human children, understand the difference between people laughing "with" them as opposed to people laughing "at" them. This was fun. This was worth repeating.
So, he repeated it. Many times. Always fun. No injury. He'd eventually release the, now indignant, duck and either let it go on its way or catch it again, only to release it again. But, 'rangs are strong. And, they don't really realize just how strong they are. The inevitable happened.
The day came that when he caught the duck he accidently killed it. He didn't know what had happened. He just knew that his mobile toy wasn't working and people weren't smiling and laughing. Instead, visitors were horrified as he tried to show them his toy and make it work. They told zoo staff what he had. This was the first that the zoo staff knew about his fun pasttime. They don't have the advantage of spending the day watching the animals they care for. Their day is spent cleaning, preparing diets and enrichment, on paperwork, etc. Just like any other job, the fun stuff, the actual interactions that are fun, are few. (They found out later, from frequent visitors, what had been going on before.)
But, faced with visitor concerns they needed to act. Dead animals that are not being eaten (feeding wild animals seems to hold a bizarre fascination for children, and adults, alike, even though almost nothing is ever fed "live") is not considered fun by the majority of paying adults and their children. And, the first thing they needed to do was to get the dead duck off of the exhibit.
Orangutans like to trade. In Star Trek terms they would be the Ferengi of our world. They will trade almost anything for something that they hold in greater value. It doesn't even seem to be something they need to "learn". They do it naturally. So, the keepers, in a hurry to get the dead duck out of the hand of the 'rang and off of exhibit so that they can get on with their work, decide to ask the 'rang to trade the duck for a banana. It worked beautifully. They took the 'rang a banana, asked for the duck, and the trade was made. They went back to work.
Of course, life is not an illustrated comic strip. There was no way for the keepers to see the lightbulb that immediately appeared over the young 'rangs head.
Live duck = laughter from people I don't know.
Dead duck = keeper (read best friend) attention + banana.
No comparison. Dead ducks win in value.
It took another three or four trades of banana for duck (remember, even keepers get a day or two off once in awhile, while swing keepers hold down the fort) before all of the keepers traded notes and realized belatedly, and to their horror, that they had unwittingly created a serial duck murderer.
There is only one answer for something like this. As humans we experience it all the time in the marketplace. It's called valuation. One day a given commodity is worth x number of dollars. The next day the value goes up, or down, according to supply and demand. The keepers decided to devalue dead ducks.
In practice, with an Orangutan, it would work like this... Yesterday a dead duck was worth one banana. Today a dead duck is only worth 1/2 of a banana. Tomorrow a dead duck is worth 1/4 of a banana. By the end of the week, or whatever timeframe the 'rang sets, a dead duck has no value at all. Just hand it over and maybe get a reward for doing something we ask that has no duck related content whatsoever.
Would have worked with no bumps, except for one small flaw. The first keeper faced with the initial devaluation attempt wasn't thinking like an Orangutan. He, or she, faced with the necessity of taking away the duck along with the devaluation blueprint took an entire banana , instead of the half banana that was to be the final offer, into the trading position.
Faced with the Orangutan, duck in hand, the keeper broke the banana in half and made the offer. The Orangutan looked at the offer, considered it, and... did I mention how strong they are?
Yep. You guessed it. No problem as far as the Orangutan was concerned. He was more than willing to trade 1/2 of a duck for 1/2 of a banana.
At any rate, here is my very favorite story to date illustrating Orangutan intelligence and ability to reason. I will warn you. It is not PG, and is not a story I tell when very young children are actively listening to what I might be saying.
This is a story I heard from a former currator at our zoo. It is true, but names will not be revealed for two reasons. First, this is not a story a zoo would want repeated except within the zoo community. I would not reveal it if for only this reason. Second, I have forgotten which zoo he told me experienced this lesson and, since I wouldn't tell anyone anyway, it hasn't been important enough for to me to ask him again.
There is a zoo here in the U.S. that has, or had - in case they have remodeled since this occured - a moated Orangutan exhibit. You've seen them. Maybe not with Orangutans, but with other species. They are open air exhibits that use an expanse of open water as part (it's always only a part, not the whole) of the means of separating the animals from the humans.
While they do a good job of keeping the human visitors separated from the species on exhibit they can't keep everything apart. Wild birds quite often use these water spaces as a temporary - or semi-permanent - home during their migratory season. Wild ducks, in particular, like to use zoo moats as their summer homes, breeding and raising their young during the summer months and migrating south for the winter, only to return the following summer.
I digress, but I must talk about Buster. He is the only wild duck at our zoo that has a name. He showed up at the moat running through our African savannah exhibit four years ago, on his first migration back to the north. Was he born here, or did he just find us? Who knows? His upper bill had been torn by something. Again, we have no idea what. But a portion of it was partially torn off and dangling. There were a few attempts to capture him in order to render first aid, but he fended off all attempts.
Both out of attempts to make a rescue and pity for his temporarily hindered feeding ability, zoo staff broke the hardfast rule against feeding the wildlife and supplemented his diet. (We want them to migate - it's what they are supposed to do - and, in an ideal zoo world, we'd as soon they not come back as they can introduce disease into our captive population. The last thing we want s for them to decide to overwinter. We don't want them to die, but we can't afford to feed them all, much less house them.) Nature prevailed and eventually the damaged portion fell off and the remaining bill healed over leaving him with an upper bill a bit shorter than the lower and marred by some scar tissue.
As a good duck should, he migrated with the flock. And, as a good friend should, he's returned every year. With his distinctive bill he is easily recognized. He has fathered any number of chicks. And, even though he no longer requires it, everyone turns a bit of a blind eye if maybe a bit of grain or corn gets spilled his way. He's come back every year. We look for him. He's here now. And, I think that the year that he finally doesn't return there will be a bit of sadness in everyones heart that will almost equal the sadness we feel when we lose a "real" member of our animal family.
Back to the Orang story. Like ours, ducks would migrate in and out as the seasons turned. Captive animals get used to the wildlife that share their space. (Even the cheetah and tiger cubs have grown enough, and gotten used to them enough, that they rarely bother to chase the squirrels that share their yard. We're not finding near as many left over tails this year.)
But, this zoo had a young, adolescent, Orang who hadn't been exposed enough to be jaded to the migratory ducks, yet. One day, as a duck went sailing past in the moat, he reached out and grabbed it. He didn't kill it, he just grabbed and held onto it. He was quite proud of himself. It moved. It was animated. It was a cool toy. He carried it around his exhibit and showed it to the people watching. It flapped. People laughed and pointed. Orangs, like human children, understand the difference between people laughing "with" them as opposed to people laughing "at" them. This was fun. This was worth repeating.
So, he repeated it. Many times. Always fun. No injury. He'd eventually release the, now indignant, duck and either let it go on its way or catch it again, only to release it again. But, 'rangs are strong. And, they don't really realize just how strong they are. The inevitable happened.
The day came that when he caught the duck he accidently killed it. He didn't know what had happened. He just knew that his mobile toy wasn't working and people weren't smiling and laughing. Instead, visitors were horrified as he tried to show them his toy and make it work. They told zoo staff what he had. This was the first that the zoo staff knew about his fun pasttime. They don't have the advantage of spending the day watching the animals they care for. Their day is spent cleaning, preparing diets and enrichment, on paperwork, etc. Just like any other job, the fun stuff, the actual interactions that are fun, are few. (They found out later, from frequent visitors, what had been going on before.)
But, faced with visitor concerns they needed to act. Dead animals that are not being eaten (feeding wild animals seems to hold a bizarre fascination for children, and adults, alike, even though almost nothing is ever fed "live") is not considered fun by the majority of paying adults and their children. And, the first thing they needed to do was to get the dead duck off of the exhibit.
Orangutans like to trade. In Star Trek terms they would be the Ferengi of our world. They will trade almost anything for something that they hold in greater value. It doesn't even seem to be something they need to "learn". They do it naturally. So, the keepers, in a hurry to get the dead duck out of the hand of the 'rang and off of exhibit so that they can get on with their work, decide to ask the 'rang to trade the duck for a banana. It worked beautifully. They took the 'rang a banana, asked for the duck, and the trade was made. They went back to work.
Of course, life is not an illustrated comic strip. There was no way for the keepers to see the lightbulb that immediately appeared over the young 'rangs head.
Live duck = laughter from people I don't know.
Dead duck = keeper (read best friend) attention + banana.
No comparison. Dead ducks win in value.
It took another three or four trades of banana for duck (remember, even keepers get a day or two off once in awhile, while swing keepers hold down the fort) before all of the keepers traded notes and realized belatedly, and to their horror, that they had unwittingly created a serial duck murderer.
There is only one answer for something like this. As humans we experience it all the time in the marketplace. It's called valuation. One day a given commodity is worth x number of dollars. The next day the value goes up, or down, according to supply and demand. The keepers decided to devalue dead ducks.
In practice, with an Orangutan, it would work like this... Yesterday a dead duck was worth one banana. Today a dead duck is only worth 1/2 of a banana. Tomorrow a dead duck is worth 1/4 of a banana. By the end of the week, or whatever timeframe the 'rang sets, a dead duck has no value at all. Just hand it over and maybe get a reward for doing something we ask that has no duck related content whatsoever.
Would have worked with no bumps, except for one small flaw. The first keeper faced with the initial devaluation attempt wasn't thinking like an Orangutan. He, or she, faced with the necessity of taking away the duck along with the devaluation blueprint took an entire banana , instead of the half banana that was to be the final offer, into the trading position.
Faced with the Orangutan, duck in hand, the keeper broke the banana in half and made the offer. The Orangutan looked at the offer, considered it, and... did I mention how strong they are?
Yep. You guessed it. No problem as far as the Orangutan was concerned. He was more than willing to trade 1/2 of a duck for 1/2 of a banana.
posted by mysticwolf at 8:30 PM
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