Dolphins And Whale Quotes

Whatever! Go save a dolphin or something!" He whirled around. "It's a whale, Alex, a whale! That's what I'm interested in saving." I threw up my arms. "What's wrong with saving dolphins?

If you lose touch with nature you lose touch with humanity. If there's no relationship with nature then you become a killer; then you kill baby seals, whales, dolphins, and man either for gain, for "sport," for food, or for knowledge. Then nature is frightened of you, withdrawing its beauty. You may take long walks in the woods or camp in lovely places but you are a killer and so lose their friendship. You probably are not related to anything to your wife or your husband.

Tobias asked. "Weird? Weird?" Marco crowed. "The talking bird wants to know if getting information on the location of an alien from a whale, that you've just saved from sharks, by turning into dolphins . . . You're suggesting that's weird?

To shut your eyes is to guess nothing of blindness. Beneath your world of skies and faces and buildings exists a rawer and older world, a place where surface planes disintegrate and sounds ribbon in shoals through the air. Marie-Laure can sit in an attic high above the street and hear lilies rustling in marshes two miles away. She hears Americans scurry across farm fields, directing their huge cannons at the smoke of Saint-Malo; she hears families sniffling around hurricane lamps in cellars, crows hopping from pile to pile, flies landing on corpses in ditches; she hears the tamarinds shiver and the jays shriek and the dune grass burn; she feels the great granite fist, sunk deep into the earth’s crust, on which Saint-Malo sits, and the ocean teething at it from all four sides, and the outer islands holding steady against the swirling tides; she hears cows drink from stone troughs and dolphins rise through the green water of the Channel; she hears the bones of dead whales stir five leagues below, their marrow offering a century of food for cities of creatures who will live their whole lives and never once see a photon sent from the sun. She hears her snails in the grotto drag their bodies over the rocks.

Certainly on this planet it is not apparent that there are beings more intelligent than humans, although a case can be made for dolphins and whales, and in fact if humans succeed in destroying themselves with nuclear weapons, a case can be made that ALL other animals are smarter than humans.

Last reason for reading horror: it’s a rehearsal for death. It’s a way to get ready. People say there’s nothing sure but death and taxes. But that’s not really true. There’s really only death, you know. Death is the biggie. Two hundred years from now, none of us are going to be here. We’re all going to be someplace else. Maybe a better place, maybe a worse place; it may be sort of like New Jersey, but someplace else. The same thing can be said of rabbits and mice and dogs, but we’re in a very uncomfortable position: we’re the only creatures—at least as far as we know, though it may be true of dolphins and whales and a few other mammals that have very big brains—who are able to contemplate our own end. We know it’s going to happen. The electric train goes around and around and it goes under and around the tunnels and over the scenic mountains, but in the end it always goes off the end of the table. Crash.

Love Forever If I were the trees ... I would turn my leaves to gold and scatter them toward the sky so they would circle about your head and fall in piles at your feet... so you might know wonder. If I were the mountains ... I would crumble down and lift you up so you could see all of my secret places, where the rivers flow and the animals run wild ... so you might know freedom. If I were the ocean ... I would raise you onto my gentle waves and carry you across the seas to swim with the whales and the dolphins in the moonlit waters, so you might know peace. If I were the stars ... I would sparkle like never before and fall from the sky as gentle rain, so that you would always look towards heaven and know that you can reach the stars. If I were the moon ... I would scoop you up and sail you through the sky and show you the Earth below in all its wonder and beauty, so you might know that all the Earth is at your command. If I were the sun ... I would warm and glow like never before and light the sky with orange and pink, so you would gaze upward and always know the glory of heaven. But I am me ... and since I am the one who loves you, I will wrap you in my arms and kiss you and love you with all of my heart, and this I will do until ... the mountains crumble down ... and the oceans dry up ... and the stars fall from the sky ... and the sun and moon burn out ... And that is forever.

I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I’d never have. Burn the Amazon rain forests. Pump chlorofluorocarbons straight up to gobble the ozone. Open the dump valves on supertankers and uncap offshore oil wells. I wanted to kill all the fish I couldn’t afford to eat, and smother the French beaches I’d never see. I wanted the whole world to hit bottom. I really wanted to put a bullet between the eyes of every endangered panda that wouldn’t screw to save its species and every whale and dolphin that gave up and ran itself aground. I wanted to burn the Louvre. I’d do the Elgin Marbles with a sledge-hammer and wipe my ass with the Mona Lisa. This is my world, now.

Once upon a time, when men and women hurtled through the air on metal wings, when they wore webbed feet and walked on the bottom of the sea, learning the speech of whales and the songs of the dolphins, when pearly-fleshed and jewelled apparitions of Texan herdsmen and houris shimmered in the dusk on Nicaraguan hillsides, when folk in Norway and Tasmania in dead of winter could dream of fresh strawberries, dates, guavas and passion fruits and find them spread next morning on their tables, there was a woman who was largely irrelevant, and therefore happy.

We humans, as species, are interested in communication with extraterrestrial intelligence. Would not a good beginning be improved communication with terrestral intelligence, with other human beings of different cultures and languages, with the great apes, with the dolphines, but particularly with those intelligent masters of the deep, the great whales?

What Tyler says about the crap and the slaves of history, that's how I felt. I wanted to destroy something beautiful I'd never have. Burn the Amazon rain forests. Pump chlorofluorocarbons straight up to gobble the ozone. Open the dump valves on supertankers and uncap offshore oil wells. I wanted to kill all the fish I couldn't afford to eat, and smother the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted the whole world to hit bottom. Pounding that kid, I really wanted to put a bullet between the eyes of every endangered panda that wouldn't screw to save its species and every whale or dolphin that gave up and ran itself aground

The problem is not that dolphins are dumber than we thought, but that our anthropomorphism inevitably makes it hard to understand an intelligence other than our own.

...I'm here on an island in the Caribbean, being told I need to talk to the dolphins in the middle of a labor action about some whales that might have torpedoes, armed by a secret society of villains who want access to a storeroom full of objects probably looted from the victims of the friggin' Nazis and who are maybe willing to blow up -my volcano lair- to get it.

Dolphins may even be able to name each other with signature whistles. But their society may nevertheless be one of an overlapping network of minds, wandering linked through a transparent ocean.

I make music for whales, dolphins, ducks, and deaf people. Using only sign language and silence, my songs are meant to swim in your ears using the same power that allows the moon to create the tides.

Whenever you’re filled with attractive energies, the goodness of life will feel pulled in your direction and, in time, will draw near enough to share its blessings with you.

How can you get giants out of a dwarf, my good chap? Can a thrush lay eagle’s egg? Can a dolphin give birth to a whale?

People in Japan and the Faeroe Islands kill dolphins and pilot whales by running steel rods into their spinal columns while they squeal in pain and terror and thrash in agony. (In Japan, it’s illegal to kill cows and pigs as painfully and inhumanely as they kill dolphins.) The lack of compassion for dolphins and whales indicates that humans’ “theory of mind” is incomplete. We have an empathy shortfall, a compassion deficit. And human-on-human violence, abuse, and ethnic and religious genocide are all too pervasive in our world. No elephant will ever pilot a jetliner. And no elephant will ever pilot a jetliner into the World Trade Center. We have the capacity for wider compassion, but we don’t fully live up to ourselves. Why do human egos seem so threatened by the thought that other animals think and feel? Is it because acknowledging the mind of another makes it harder to abuse them? We seem so unfinished and so defensive. Maybe incompleteness is one of the things that “makes us human.

Pounding that kid, I really wanted to put a bullet between the eyes of every endangered panda that wouldn't screw to save its species and every whale or dolphin that gave up and ran itself aground.

I don’t know anything about this!” I said. “I don’t know how to deal with striking dolphins, or torpedo whales, or evil conspiracies

Whales and dolphins have been aquatic for about 70 million years and seals for between 25 and 30 million years.

The dolphin (dorado), which is a brilliantly colored tropical fish, must not be confused with the creature, also called dolphin, which is a small, toothed whale.

For example, as you’re reading this paragraph, our whales and dolphins are still dying painful lingering deaths.

Is it wrong of me to propose a ceasefire agreement between humans and whales and dolphins, I know it is in actuality a one sided massacre, but so was Bosnia and there the ceasefire is holding, so would it be nice to have a declaration backing a ceasefire between us mammals?

It is not just humans who are musical. Animals, too. This should be obvious in the thousands of birdsongs I have spawned, or the clicking of dolphins, or the moaning of humpback whales.

She knew that her lifework had changed forever that day. She was being called to use her gift to help prevent a tragedy such as this from ever happening again. And she knew, without question, that the whales and dolphins would reach out to her again, from the other side of the night . . . and she would be there.

I couldn't help wondering where porpoises had learned this game of running on the bows of ships. Porpoises have been swimming in the oceans for seven to ten million years, but they've had human ships to play with for only the last few thousand. Yet nearly all porpoises, in every ocean, catch rides for fun from passing ships; and they were doing it on the bows of Greek triremes and prehistoric Tahitian canoes, as soon as those seacraft appeared. What did they do for fun before ships were invented? Ken Norris made a field observation one day that suggests the answer. He saw a humpback whale hurrying along the coast of the island of Hawaii, unavoidably making a wave in front of itself; playing in that bow wave was a flock of bottlenose porpoises. The whale didn't seem to be enjoying it much: Ken said it looked like a horse being bothered by flies around its head; however, there was nothing much the whale could do about it, and the porpoises were having a fun time.

About Hollywood. I feel like it’s a big ocean, full of bottom feeders, midlevel fish, the occasional shark, and some wonderful savvy whales, the elders, and the ones who guide you on your way. If you’re lucky enough, you get to be a dolphin and have your waves broken by the passage of these elders before you, but at the same time, you get an occasional shark bite in the tail and maybe one of the bottom feeders comes up and takes a little nibble. But I see myself as cresting a series of waves, dipping down, sometimes, lower than I’d like, but mainly kind of happily staying above. (smiles and takes a long drag of her cigarette) And, of course, I try to avoid the fishnets.

Now let me tell you something. I have seen a thousand sunsets and sunrises, on land where it floods forest and mountains with honey coloured light, at sea where it rises and sets like a blood orange in a multicoloured nest of cloud, slipping in and out of the vast ocean. I have seen a thousand moons: harvest moons like gold coins, winter moons as white as ice chips, new moons like baby swans’ feathers. I have seen seas as smooth as if painted, coloured like shot silk or blue as a kingfisher or transparent as glass or black and crumpled with foam, moving ponderously and murderously. I have felt winds straight from the South Pole, bleak and wailing like a lost child; winds as tender and warm as a lover’s breath; winds that carried the astringent smell of salt and the death of seaweeds; winds that carried the moist rich smell of a forest floor, the smell of a million flowers. Fierce winds that churned and moved the sea like yeast, or winds that made the waters lap at the shore like a kitten. I have known silence: the cold, earthy silence at the bottom of a newly dug well; the implacable stony silence of a deep cave; the hot, drugged midday silence when everything is hypnotised and stilled into silence by the eye of the sun; the silence when great music ends. I have heard summer cicadas cry so that the sound seems stitched into your bones. I have heard tree frogs in an orchestration as complicated as Bach singing in a forest lit by a million emerald fireflies. I have heard the Keas calling over grey glaciers that groaned to themselves like old people as they inched their way to the sea. I have heard the hoarse street vendor cries of the mating Fur seals as they sang to their sleek golden wives, the crisp staccato admonishment of the Rattlesnake, the cobweb squeak of the Bat and the belling roar of the Red deer knee-deep in purple heather. I have heard Wolves baying at a winter’s moon, Red howlers making the forest vibrate with their roaring cries. I have heard the squeak, purr and grunt of a hundred multi-coloured reef fishes. I have seen hummingbirds flashing like opals round a tree of scarlet blooms, humming like a top. I have seen flying fish, skittering like quicksilver across the blue waves, drawing silver lines on the surface with their tails. I have seen Spoonbills flying home to roost like a scarlet banner across the sky. I have seen Whales, black as tar, cushioned on a cornflower blue sea, creating a Versailles of fountain with their breath. I have watched butterflies emerge and sit, trembling, while the sun irons their wings smooth. I have watched Tigers, like flames, mating in the long grass. I have been dive-bombed by an angry Raven, black and glossy as the Devil’s hoof. I have lain in water warm as milk, soft as silk, while around me played a host of Dolphins. I have met a thousand animals and seen a thousand wonderful things. But— All this I did without you. This was my loss. All this I want to do with you. This will be my gain. All this I would gladly have forgone for the sake of one minute of your company, for your laugh, your voice, your eyes, hair, lips, body, and above all for your sweet, ever-surprising mind which is an enchanting quarry in which it is my privilege to delve.

Let loving kindness and friendship flow from your heart toward all things in the same way the sun shines everywhere without discernment. Not only is this ability in dolphins the source of their magic, but the friendship they offer makes life on this planet considerably more joyful.

Australian pro surfer Dave Rastovich, straddling his board waiting for a wave, was astonished to watch a dolphin hurtle itself at a shark that was torpedoing toward him, sending it fleeing. (Coincidentally, only two days earlier Rastovich had launched a nonprofit group, Surfers for Cetaceans, to protect dolphins and whales.)

On August 11th, 2010, NOAA gave permission for the US Navy to continue their training, which included mid and high-frequency sonar and the use of explosives, thus ignoring the devastating impact on marine life. They attempted to justify their actions by claiming sonar exposure is merely a matter of annoyance to whale and dolphins.

The orca’s big brain was bigger than he had hoped—five times the size of a human’s and weighing in at nearly fifteen pounds. And this was from a young whale, not a mature adult. The brain was also more complicated than McGeer had imagined—more complicated than a human brain. Dolphin brains were impressive, but this brain was spectacular.

Any animal that needs to breathe—such as whales and dolphins—would be hard-pressed to survive in the turbulent sea-air interface.

The human brain is the most unsuccessful adaptation ever to appear in the history of life on earth,” whale scientist Roger Payne once suggested.

This pattern seemed to offer those being rebuffed an opportunity to become more conscious of what quality in them might be unattractive to the dolphins, a quality they would benefit from correcting.

Turning chores over to the conscious mind is a risky business. Whales and dolphins have to time their breathing to their surfacing. So of course when they were first anesthetized for surgery they simply died.

Sure I tampered with my body chemistry -- and I emerged more than human! It's only a matter of time before an entire race of people are raised on steroids, and who knows what they'll be able to accomplish? Live to 150 years old, remain sexually potent into your nineties, interbreed with dolphins and whales, there's literally no limit to what steroids can do for a person. Do you know what it means to feel like God?

Most hearts cherish whales and dolphins, their gentle existence resonating within our collective consciousness. Why? It can be summed up in one simple truth—an innate aspect woven into the very fabric of human DNA.

Behind her, for a moment, the sky was very full: an aerostat droned in the distance; tiny specks lurched erratically around it, winged figures playing in its wake like dolphins round a whale; and in front of them all another train, heading into the city this time, heading for the centre of New Crobuzon, the knot of architectural tissue where the fibres of the city congealed, where the skyrails of the militia radiated out from the Spike like a web and the five great trainlines of the city met, converging on the great variegated fortress of dark brick and scrubbed concrete and wood and steel and stone, the edifice that yawned hugely at the city's vulgar heart, Perdido Street Station.

If you go too much higher than 150 KHz, the sound won’t be able to travel very far beyond your piano. Ultrasonic sounds can travel farther in water or solid material—which is how electric toothbrushes, medical ultrasounds, and high-frequency whale and dolphin echolocation work

God, San Francisco was such a thief. A lady of the night, a sorceress with her hands out. Every time, all my years as a child, that we crossed the bridge, we had to pay to get in, pay to get out, pay for every little thing. Oakland was free, San Francisco was not. Pay me, pay me. Pay for the Pacific Ocean and the beach. I am expensive, the city always said, so pay me for my wonderful dark treats like the Steinhart Aquarium, with its dark wide hall lit up by tank after tank of bright gold green blue sharks dolphins whales stinger fish, cold-eyed still-as-a-corpse fish that didn't blink or budge when we tapped the thick glass with our fingernails. Pay, the voice said, to whomever took us on Saturday to the Fleischacker Zoo ... the hand of San Francisco reaches out to grab your stupid little nickels and dimes. Pay. Even as I stood in front of the Fat Lady, whose cackling gap-toothed twelve-feet-high, three-feet-wide body made me laugh for a solid hour, even as I collapsed in tears driven out of my eyes by laughter, I understood that the other name for San Francisco wasn't Frisco; it was pay you dumb jerks from Oakland pay.

The porpoises and whale themselves, in their quests for entertainment, often created problems. One summer a fashion developed in the training tanks (I think Keiki started it) for leaning out over the tank wall and seeing how far you could balance without falling out. Several animals might be teetering on the tank edge at one time, and sometimes one or another did fall out. Nothing much happened to them, except maybe a cut or a scrape from the gravel around the tanks; but of course we had to run and pick them up and put them back in. Not a serious problem, if the animal that fell out was small, but if it was a 400-pound adult bottlenose, you had to find four strong people to get him back, and when it happened over and over again, the people got cross. We feared too, that some animal would fall out at night or when no one was around and dry out, overheat, and die. We yelled at the porpoises, and rushed over and pushed them back in when we saw them teetering, but that just seemed to add to the enjoyment of what I'm sure the porpoises thoguht of as a hilariously funny game. Fortunately they eventually tired of it by themselves.

Far below me, I can sense the sea life. Water rushes across gills, curls over tentacles, bubbles up from the sandy bottom. A startled fish changes direction at the approach of the ship. A dolphin prepares to breach the surface. A whale hums far in the distance. And I am queen over them all.

If things continue at the present pace, it is likely that whales, sharks, tuna and dolphins will follow the diprotodons, ground sloths and mammoths to oblivion. Among all the world’s large creatures, the only survivors of the human flood will be humans themselves, and the farmyard animals that serve as galley slaves in Noah’s Ark.

As she moved swiftly and noiselessly through the vast palace cellar, odd noises weltered toward her. Voices and echoes of water rippled through the air as if, in some magic chamber, whales and dolphins cavorted among young maidens in great tanks of water. When she reached it, all the fish turned into laundry, stirred and beaten in steaming cauldrons by glum, limp-haired women as wet as mackerels.

Whale bones were honed into chisels and barbed tips for harpoons and spears; dolphins’ jawbones made fine combs. The skin and sinewy tendons from seals and whales offered string for bows, slingshots, and fishing nets. Seal bladders served as pouches. Plants were woven into baskets. Bark was carved into containers—and used as torches. Shells became everything from scoops to knives sharp enough to cut through bone. And the hides from seals and sea lions provided

The full extent of Samuel’s powers had yet to be determined because he was in a Claire Vinson daze for much of his rapid acceleration to adulthood. The combination’s were endless as his father Maxwell had emerged from the union of Daniel and Nicole – vampire and protector – with a full cycle of facades, including wolf, hippopotamus, Orca killer whale and Bottlenose dolphin. But he also had the capability of copying anything he could see and he was a master of battle strategy.

Hartwell’s subconscious was treated to a lengthy reel of the evolutionary tract of cetaceans – from their early days as hoofed creatures with triangular teeth like wolves, to cat-like creatures, to early variations of the hippopotamus, to bottlenose dolphins and Orca, the ‘killer whale’, which is the largest species of dolphin. The hybrid mammal also had the ability to convert to a smaller aquatic mammal, capable of diving into water and hiding beneath the surface to avoid birds of prey.

The final misconception is that evolution is “just a theory.” I will boldly assume that readers who have gotten this far believe in evolution. Opponents inevitably bring up that irritating canard that evolution is unproven, because (following an unuseful convention in the field) it is a “theory” (like, say, germ theory). Evidence for the reality of evolution includes: Numerous examples where changing selective pressures have changed gene frequencies in populations within generations (e.g., bacteria evolving antibiotic resistance). Moreover, there are also examples (mostly insects, given their short generation times) of a species in the process of splitting into two. Voluminous fossil evidence of intermediate forms in numerous taxonomic lineages. Molecular evidence. We share ~98 percent of our genes with the other apes, ~96 percent with monkeys, ~75 percent with dogs, ~20 percent with fruit flies. This indicates that our last common ancestor with other apes lived more recently than our last common ancestor with monkeys, and so on. Geographic evidence. To use Richard Dawkins’s suggestion for dealing with a fundamentalist insisting that all species emerged in their current forms from Noah’s ark—how come all thirty-seven species of lemurs that made landfall on Mt. Ararat in the Armenian highlands hiked over to Madagascar, none dying and leaving fossils in transit? Unintelligent design—oddities explained only by evolution. Why do whales and dolphins have vestigial leg bones? Because they descend from a four-legged terrestrial mammal. Why should we have arrector pili muscles in our skin that produce thoroughly useless gooseflesh? Because of our recent speciation from other apes whose arrector pili muscles were attached to hair, and whose hair stands up during emotional arousal.

I REMEMBER the day the Aleut ship came to our island. At first it seemed like a small shell afloat on the sea. Then it grew larger and was a gull with folded wings. At last in the rising sun it became what it really was—a red ship with two red sails. My brother and I had gone to the head of a canyon that winds down to a little harbor which is called Coral Cove. We had gone to gather roots that grow there in the spring. My brother Ramo was only a little boy half my age, which was twelve. He was small for one who had lived so many suns and moons, but quick as a cricket. Also foolish as a cricket when he was excited. For this reason and because I wanted him to help me gather roots and not go running off, I said nothing about the shell I saw or the gull with folded wings. I went on digging in the brush with my pointed stick as though nothing at all were happening on the sea. Even when I knew for sure that the gull was a ship with two red sails. But Ramo’s eyes missed little in the world. They were black like a lizard’s and very large and, like the eyes of a lizard, could sometimes look sleepy. This was the time when they saw the most. This was the way they looked now. They were half-closed, like those of a lizard lying on a rock about to flick out its tongue to catch a fly. “The sea is smooth,” Ramo said. “It is a flat stone without any scratches.” My brother liked to pretend that one thing was another. “The sea is not a stone without scratches,” I said. “It is water and no waves.” “To me it is a blue stone,” he said. “And far away on the edge of it is a small cloud which sits on the stone.” “Clouds do not sit on stones. On blue ones or black ones or any kind of stones.” “This one does.” “Not on the sea,” I said. “Dolphins sit there, and gulls, and cormorants, and otter, and whales too, but not clouds.” “It is a whale, maybe.” Ramo was standing on one foot and then the other, watching the ship coming, which he did not know was a ship because he had never seen one. I had never seen one either, but I knew how they looked because I had been told. “While you gaze at the sea,” I said, “I dig roots. And it is I who will eat them and you who will not.” Ramo began to punch at the earth with his stick, but as the ship came closer, its sails showing red through the morning mist, he kept watching it, acting all the time as if he were not. “Have you ever seen a red whale?” he asked. “Yes,” I said, though I never had. “Those I have seen are gray.” “You are very young and have not seen everything that swims in the world.” Ramo picked up a root and was about to drop it into the basket. Suddenly his mouth opened wide and then closed again. “A canoe!” he cried. “A great one, bigger than all of our canoes together. And red!” A canoe or a ship, it did not matter to Ramo. In the very next breath he tossed the root in the air and was gone, crashing through the brush, shouting as he went. I kept on gathering roots, but my hands trembled as I dug in the earth, for I was more excited than my brother. I knew that it was a ship there on the

Ingrid Visser describes the strategy of a particular quartet of dolphin-hunting killer whales off New Zealand (she prefers the name “orca”): The orca are cruising nonchalantly towards a small group of dolphins. The dolphins head away, but not too fast, as they don’t want to draw the attention of the orca just in case they aren’t really hunting. After following for 30 minutes, one female orca, named Stealth, doesn’t surface the next time the others breathe, nor the next, nor for the following 10 minutes. The three remaining orcas take off towards the dolphins at high speed, which is incredibly dramatic as they hurtle through the surface. The dolphins are fleeing for their lives and they know it; they fly out of the water and don’t even seem to touch down before they are off again. The three orca are closing fast. But suddenly one of the front dolphins goes flying as if it was a tennis ball, tumbling through the air as it turns somersaults. Stealth is also hurtling through the air in the follow-through after hitting the dolphin from below. She grabs the dolphin in mid-air, then falls back into the water with it in her jaws. Together, the four orcas devour the meal. Visser adds, “I have never seen them miss.” *   *   *

Unlike their terrestrial counterparts, the large sea animals suffered relatively little from the Cognitive and Agricultural Revolutions. But many of them are on the brink of extinction now as a result of industrial pollution and human overuse of oceanic resources. If things continue at the present pace, it is likely that whales, sharks, tuna and dolphins will follow the diprotodons, ground sloths and mammoths to oblivion. Among all the world’s large creatures, the only survivors of the human flood will be humans themselves, and the farmyard animals that serve as galley slaves in Noah’s Ark. Part Two The Agricultural Revolution 11.

She could sense the approach of land- taste when the waters changed, feel when currents turned cool or warm- but it didn't hurt to keep an eye on the shore now and then, and an ear out for boats. The slap of oars could be heard for leagues. Her father had told tales about armored seafarers in days long past, whose trireme ships had three banks of rowers to ply the waters- you could hear them clear down to Atlantica, he'd say. Any louder and they would disrupt the songs of the half-people- the dolphins and whales who used their voices to navigate the waters. Even before her father had enacted the ban on going to the surface, it was rare that a boat would encounter a mer. If the captain kept to the old ways, he would either carefully steer away or throw her a tribute: fruit of the land, the apples and grapes merfolk treasured more than treasure. In return the mermaid might present him with fruit of the sea- gems, or a comb from her hair. But there was always the chance of an unscrupulous crew, and nets, and the potential prize of a mermaid wife or trophy to present the king. (Considering some of the nets that merfolk had found and freed their underwater brethren from, it was quite understandable that Triton believed humans might eat anything they found in the sea- including merfolk.)

The instincts and attributes of animals are so much better than those of a human being in so many ways, and we sometimes forget that fact. We certainly don’t have the strength of many animals; we cannot fly like birds and insects; we cannot survive in harsh climates like many animals; we cannot navigate like most animals; we cannot swim like fish and whales and dolphins; we cannot get along with one another like most animals. In fact, all in all, human beings are kinda wimpy. It is only our brainpower and our invention of tools and weapons that have allowed us to survive. Some then say that our brainpower is why the human is superior, but given a level playing field and only our physical attributes, human beings are not superior to many animals. Our brains may appear to be superior and may very well be, although we still cannot navigate like a whale or dolphin or bat with sonar, and we certainly don’t have the highly tuned instincts or the heightened senses of many animals. The point is that we are different creations, and each creation has different attributes for its survival—and we as human beings should respect that fact. Animals aren’t necessarily better or worse than we are, they are just different, and we should acknowledge that they have just as much right to survive as we do.

Bumblebees detect the polarization of sunlight, invisible to uninstrumented humans; put vipers sense infrared radiation and detect temperature differences of 0.01C at a distance of half a meter; many insects can see ultraviolet light; some African freshwater fish generate a static electric field around themselves and sense intruders by slight perturbations induced in the field; dogs, sharks, and cicadas detect sounds wholly inaudible to humans; ordinary scorpions have micro--seismometers on their legs so they can detect in darkness the footsteps of a small insect a meter away; water scorpions sense their depth by measuring the hydrostatic pressure; a nubile female silkworm moth releases ten billionths of a gram of sex attractant per second, and draws to her every male for miles around; dolphins, whales, and bats use a kind of sonar for precision echo-location. The direction, range, and amplitude of sounds reflected by to echo-locating bats are systematically mapped onto adjacent areas of the bat brain. How does the bat perceive its echo-world? Carp and catfish have taste buds distributed over most of their bodies, as well as in their mouths; the nerves from all these sensors converge on massive sensory processing lobes in the brain, lobes unknown in other animals. how does a catfish view the world? What does it feel like to be inside its brain? There are reported cases in which a dog wags its tail and greets with joy a man it has never met before; he turns out to be the long-lost identical twin of the dog's "master", recognizable by his odor. What is the smell-world of a dog like? Magnetotactic bacteria contain within them tiny crystals of magnetite - an iron mineral known to early sailing ship navigators as lodenstone. The bacteria literally have internal compasses that align them along the Earth's magnetic field. The great churning dynamo of molten iron in the Earth's core - as far as we know, entirely unknown to uninstrumented humans - is a guiding reality for these microscopic beings. How does the Earth's magnetism feel to them? All these creatures may be automatons, or nearly so, but what astounding special powers they have, never granted to humans, or even to comic book superheroes. How different their view of the world must be, perceiving so much that we miss.

take tuna. Among the other 145 species regularly killed — gratuitously — while killing tuna are: manta ray, devil ray, spotted skate, bignose shark, copper shark, Galapagos shark, sandbar shark, night shark, sand tiger shark, (great) white shark, hammerhead shark, spurdog fish, Cuban dogfish, bigeye thresher, mako, blue shark, wahoo, sailfish, bonito, king mackerel, Spanish mackerel, longbill spearfish, white marlin, swordfish, lancet fish, grey triggerfish, needlefish, pomfret, blue runner, black ruff, dolphin fish, bigeye cigarfish, porcupine fish, rainbow runner, anchovy, grouper, flying fish, cod, common sea horse, Bermuda chub, opah, escolar, leerfish, tripletail, goosefish, monkfish, sunfish, Murray eel, pilotfish, black gemfish, stone bass, bluefish, cassava fish, red drum, greater amberjack, yellowtail, common sea bream, barracuda, puffer fish, loggerhead turtle, green turtle, leatherback turtle, hawksbill turtle, Kemp’s ridley turtle, Atlantic yellow-nosed albatross, Audouin’s gull, balearic shearwater, black-browed albatross, great black-backed gull, great shearwater, great-winged petrel, grey petrel, herring gull, laughing gull, northern royal albatross, shy albatross, sooty shearwater, southern fulmar, Yelkouan shearwater, yellow-legged gull, minke whale, sei whale, fin whale, common dolphin, northern right whale, pilot whale, humpback whale, beaked whale, killer whale, harbor porpoise, sperm whale, striped dolphin, Atlantic spotted dolphin, spinner dolphin, bottlenose dolphin, and goose-beaked whale. Imagine being served a plate of sushi. But this plate also holds all of the animals that were killed for your serving of sushi. The plate might have to be five feet across.

And everywhere, just as there were animals on land, were the animals of the sea. The tiniest fish made the largest schools- herring, anchovies, and baby mackerel sparkling and cavorting in the light like a million diamonds. They twirled into whirlpools and flowed over the sandy floor like one large, unlikely animal. Slightly larger fish came in a rainbow, red and yellow and blue and orange and purple and green and particolored like clowns: dragonets and blennies and gobies and combers. Hake, shad, char, whiting, cod, flounder, and mullet made the solid middle class. The biggest loners, groupers and oarfish and dogfish and the major sharks and tuna that all grew to a large, ripe old age did so because they had figured out how to avoid human boats, nets, lines, and bait. The black-eyed predators were well aware they were top of the food chain only down deep, and somewhere beyond the surface there were things even more hungry and frightening than they. Rounding out the population were the famous un-fish of the ocean: the octopus, flexing and swirling the ends of her tentacles; delicate jellyfish like fairies; lobsters and sea stars; urchins and nudibranchs... the funny, caterpillar-like creatures that flowed over the ocean floor wearing all kinds of colors and appendages. All of these creatures woke, slept, played, swam about, and lived their whole lives under the sea, unconcerned with what went on above them. But there were other animals in this land, strange ones, who spoke both sky and sea. Seals and dolphins and turtles and the rare fin whale would come down to hunt or talk for a bit and then vanish to that strange membrane that separated the ocean from everything else. Of course they were loved- but perhaps not quite entirely trusted.

Perhaps if more people were aware of the First Wave and Second Wave extinctions, they’d be less nonchalant about the Third Wave they are part of. If we knew how many species we’ve already eradicated, we might be more motivated to protect those that still survive. This is especially relevant to the large animals of the oceans. Unlike their terrestrial counterparts, the large sea animals suffered relatively little from the Cognitive and Agricultural Revolutions. But many of them are on the brink of extinction now as a result of industrial pollution and human overuse of oceanic resources. If things continue at the present pace, it is likely that whales, sharks, tuna and dolphins will follow the diprotodons, ground sloths and mammoths to oblivion. Among all the world’s large creatures, the only survivors of the human flood will be humans themselves, and the farmyard animals that serve as galley slaves in Noah’s Ark.

He paused a little; then kneeling in the pulpit’s bows, folded his large brown hands across his chest, uplifted his closed eyes, and offered a prayer so deeply devout that he seemed kneeling and praying at the bottom of the sea. This ended, in prolonged solemn tones, like the continual tolling of a bell in a ship that is foundering at sea in a fog — in such tones he commenced reading the following hymn; but changing his manner towards the concluding stanzas, burst forth with a pealing exultation and joy — The ribs and terrors in the whale, Arched over me a dismal gloom, While all God’s sun-lit waves rolled by, And lift me deepening down to doom. I saw the opening maw of hell, With endless pains and sorrows there; Which none but they that feel can tell- Oh, I was plunging to despair. In black distress, I called my God, When I could scarce believe him mine, He bowed his ear to my complaints- No more the whale did me confine. With speed he flew to my relief, As on a radiant dolphin borne; Awful, yet bright, as lightning shone The face of my Deliverer God. My song for ever shall record That terrible, that joyful hour; I give the glory to my God, His all the mercy and the power.

Perhaps the most amazing practitioner of echolocation among humans is Daniel Kish, blind since he was one year old, who early in life discovered that making clicking noises helped him get around. Much of his brain must be reassigned to sound, because he uses his own clicks to navigate. He can ride a bicycle in traffic (hard to imagine), and he has founded World Access for the Blind to teach other blind people to use their own sonar—to summon, as it were, their inner dolphin. Sounds from his tongue clicks, he explains, “bounce off surfaces all around and return to my ears as faint echoes. My brain processes the echoes into dynamic images.… I construct a three-dimensional image of my surroundings for hundreds of feet in every direction. Up close, I can detect a pole an inch thick. At 15 feet, I recognize cars and bushes. Houses come into focus at 150 feet.” This is all so hard to imagine, people have wondered if he is telling the truth. But he’s not alone, and his claims appear to check out. He says, “Many students are surprised how quickly results come. I believe echolocation capacity is latent within us.… The neural hardware seems to be there; I’ve developed ways to activate it. Vision isn’t in the eyes; it’s in the mind.” So, is it possible that a dolphin such as a killer whale might actually see the echoes?

The First Wave Extinction, which accompanied the spread of the foragers, was followed by the Second Wave Extinction, which accompanied the spread of the farmers, and gives us an important perspective on the Third Wave Extinction, which industrial activity is causing today. Don’t believe tree-huggers who claim that our ancestors lived in harmony with nature. Long before the Industrial Revolution, Homo sapiens held the record among all organisms for driving the most plant and animal species to their extinctions. We have the dubious distinction of being the deadliest species in the annals of biology. Perhaps if more people were aware of the First Wave and Second Wave extinctions, they’d be less nonchalant about the Third Wave they are part of. If we knew how many species we’ve already eradicated, we might be more motivated to protect those that still survive. This is especially relevant to the large animals of the oceans. Unlike their terrestrial counterparts, the large sea animals suffered relatively little from the Cognitive and Agricultural Revolutions. But many of them are on the brink of extinction now as a result of industrial pollution and human overuse of oceanic resources. If things continue at the present pace, it is likely that whales, sharks, tuna and dolphins will follow the diprotodons, ground sloths and mammoths to oblivion. Among all the world’s large creatures, the only survivors of the human flood will be humans themselves, and the farmyard animals that serve as galley slaves in Noah’s Ark.

But at that moment the most incredible part of an incredible day happened. My mind, human, dolphin, both minds, opened up like a flower opening to the sun. And a silent, but somehow huge, voice filled my head, it spoke no words. It simply filled every corner of my mind with a simple emotion. Gratitude. The whale was telling me that it was grateful. We had saved it. Now it would save our schoolmate. I told Rachel and Jake. ... The humpback rose beneath a sputtering Marco. The broad leathery back lifted him up. And when I looked again, I saw Marco, sitting nervously on what could have been a small island, high and dry above the choppy waves. ... The whale called me to him. Listen, little one, he commanded, in a silent voice that seemed to fill the universe. I listened. I listened to his wordless voice in my head. I felt like it went on forever. Tobias said later it was only ten minutes. But during that ten minutes, I was lost to the world. I was being shown a small part of the whale's thoughts. he had lived eighty migrations. He had many mates, many mothers, who had died in their turn. His children traveled the oceans of the word. He had survived many battles, traveled to the far southern ice and the far northern ice. He remembered the days when men hunted his kind from ships that belched smoke. He remembered the songs of the many fathers who had gone before. As others would remember his song. But in all he had seen and all he had known, he had never seen one of the little ones become a human. Marco, I realized. He means Marco. And little ones? Is that what the whales call dolphins? We are not truly... little ones. No. You are something new in the sea. But not the only new thing. I wasn't sure what he was telling me. He spoke only in feelings, in a sort of poetry of emotion, without words. Part of it was in song. Part of it I could only sense the same way I could sense echolocation. Something new? -Animorphs #4, The Visitor page 41

something that grows or lives in or near the water cetacean class of large aquatic mammals, including whales, dolphins, and porpoises, with hairless bodies and broad flippers cryptozoologist researcher who studies and searches for animals whose

Three crows, two zebras, one whale, a handful of ladybugs, one unicorn with metallic wings, three horses—one pink, one green, one realistically colored—two butterflies, three bears including the one we got free with a wiper blade change, a dolphin from the aquarium class trip we lied to go to, convincing my mother she signed the permission slip while she dozed on the recliner after my brother made us a simple meal. Finally, four parakeets arranged up front, who were the young Luna’s—my—favorites. Place the walrus next to the puppy. The raccoon comes after the bear. The hush of human voices on the other side of the curtain, amplified and immediate. I had prepared for cruelty but not for this tender thought: Tom has returned my animals to me. They will never be out of order again. The Man from the Coffee Shop enters and every conciliatory sentiment fades. Tom’s gotten it wrong again. When the man entered in real life, no one noticed. There is no memory in a play. A play is always present tense. I am newly injured in real time.

Elsewhere as Baker muses on the fluidity and apparent joyfulness of a seal’s motion at sea he speculates: It is a good life, a seal’s, here in these shallow waters. Like the lives of so many air and water creatures, it seems a better one than ours. We have no element. Nothing sustains us when we fall. Here Baker edges towards a remarkable revelation about the whole nature-writing genre. On reading the passage, one thinks of the specific creatures (as well as their most devoted author/admirers) that have made the deepest appeal to the modern British imagination: the otter (Henry Williamson, Gavin Maxwell), whales and dolphins (Heathcote Williams and the whole New-Age fixation with cetaceans) and birds, particularly birds of prey (W.H. Hudson, T.H. White and J.A. Baker himself). If we cannot move between the elements like these wonderful animals, then humans can at least imagine what it is like to be an otter or a peregrine. But no writer I know has taken us deeper into the life of another creature and allowed us to experience how that elemental mastery might possibly feel than John Alec Baker. Mark Cocker, March 2010

The King, dear boy. Anything washed up on the beaches of England belongs to the monarch by right. Whales, dolphins, porpoises. If they wash ashore, they’re ‘fishes royal.’ A law that dates back to Saxon times, if I remember rightly.

If this is accurate, we should find intermediate forms of species in the fossil record providing evidence of phyletic gradualism. Let’s take the example of whales, which evolved about fifty million years ago from a four-legged, land-dwelling vertebrate called Pakicetus.1 Figure 9.1 lists some descendants of Pakicetus, including Ambulocetus, Remingtoncetus, Protocetus, and Dorudon, which ultimately evolved into current-day whales and dolphins.

Take cetaceans, such as dolphins and whales, for example. Their sleep, of which there is only NREM, can be unihemispheric, meaning they will sleep with half a brain at a time!

renowned biologist and thinker E. O. Wilson calls the study of gene-culture coevolution “one of the great unexplored domains of science.

It is as simple as saying that nature has made birds to fly - therefore we should not raise them in cages for release at the pleasure of "gentleman hunters" positioned for the shot. Nature has made elephants and giraffe and rhinoceros to inhabit the plains - therefore we should not shoot them, stuff them, and stick them in our ballrooms for display. Nature has made whales and dolphins to swim the seas away from man - therefore we should not track them down by helicopters and attack or electrocute them from factory ships until they are almost gone from the waters. Nature has made pigs and cows and lambs and fowl to nurse from their mothers and walk and graze and mix with their kind - therefore we have no business confining and torturing and treating them like machines of our own inventions.

It is as simple as saying that nature has made birds to fly - therefore we should not raise them in cages for release at the pleasure of "gentleman hunters" positioned for the shot. Nature has made elephants and giraffe and rhinoceros to inhabit the plains - therefore we should not shoot them, stuff them, and stick them in our ballrooms for display. Nature has made whales and dolphins to swim the seas away from man - therefore we should not track them down by helicopters and attack or electrocute them from factory ships until they are almost gone from the waters. Nature has made pigs and cows and lambs and fowl to nurse from their mothers and walk and graze and mix with their kind - therefore we have no business confining and torturing and treating them like machines of our own inventions.

of a school year didn’t help. I had lost my fiancée, I had lost my dream, and I wanted to go to a place where I didn’t know anyone. I discovered that the University of Hawaii at Manoa, in Honolulu, offered a master’s degree in oceanography with plans to expand to a Ph.D. program soon. It wasn’t Scripps, but it could get me going again. I had to rush to Honolulu so quickly, I missed graduation at Santa Barbara. I asked the Army for a delay in active duty and began looking for a part-time job. Dr. Norris may not have written the strongest letter of support for me, but he did tell me about his brother, Ken Norris, a UCLA professor who did summer research on whales and dolphins at the Oceanic Institute, east of Honolulu. The institute was connected to Sea Life Park, an aquarium that offered dolphin and whale shows. I zipped out there on a rented moped and soon had two jobs: training dolphins and whales for the tourist shows and helping Dr. Norris with his research when summer rolled around.

I'm an excellent swimmer but, I'd become so tired. The void pimped me out to the nearest whale belly that churned me and turned me like tricks on your ocean floor. I said, ha, what's new? I washed ashore, only after giving my best dolphin smile and no fucks

Oh, the inimical echo of this world of men and women alone! Where be the feet of goats? The wings of butterflies? The buzz of bees? The raging fire of bulls? The dolphin’s foamy music and the whale’s divided temperance? The arachnid’s stalking! Nay; they are all but shadows of wisps, but reflections inside the memories of trees!

For all our neocortical power, human science and art wouldn’t be possible without one other key innovation: our thumbs.[65] Animals with comparable or even larger (in absolute terms) neocortices than humans—such as whales, dolphins, and elephants—don’t have anything like an opposable thumb that can precisely grasp natural materials and fashion them into technology. The lesson: we are very fortunate evolutionarily!

If I were the trees . . . I would turn my leaves to gold and scatter them toward the sky so they would circle about your head and fall in piles at your feet . . . so you might know wonder. If I were the mountains . . . I would crumble down and lift you up so you could see all of my secret places, where the rivers flow and the animals run wild . . . so you might know freedom. I’m using inflections in my voice to keep Nisay’s attention. However it’s Ki whom I’ve roped in. He sits wide-eyed as a curious little boy at story time. If I were the ocean . . . I would raise you onto my gentle waves and carry you across the seas to swim with the whales and the dolphins in the moonlit waters, so you might know peace. If I were the stars . . . I would sparkle like never before and fall from the sky as gentle rain, so that you would always look towards heaven and know that you can reach the stars. If I were the moon . . . I would scoop you up and sail you through the sky and show you the Earth below in all its wonder and beauty, so you might know that all the Earth is at your command. If I were the sun . . . I would warm and glow like never before and light the sky with orange and pink, so you would gaze upward and always know the glory of heaven. But I am me . . . and since I am the one who loves you, I will wrap you in my arms and kiss you and love you with all of my heart, and this I will do until . . . the mountains crumble down . . . and the oceans dry up . . . and the stars fall from the sky . . . and the sun and moon burn out . . . And that is forever.

Although killer whales are dolphins, they occupy a quite different place in the food chain. Orcas are the only dolphin relatives known to eat dolphins, whales, and porpoises. They sit at the very pinnacle of the aquatic food

thirty-five species of canines, from wolves to dholes, jackals to foxes. Felines number forty-one. Cetaceans—whales, porpoises, dolphins—are abundant with more than ninety species. And there are as many as five hundred species of primates. Bears don’t even enter the double digits.

In fact, fishing is one of the world’s most wasteful and destructive industries. Every year, more than seven million tons of so-called by-catch (perhaps more accurately described as by-kill) is inadvertently caught and wantonly destroyed, including over three hundred thousand sea animals such as non-target fish species, sea turtles, dolphins, whales, sharks, albatrosses, and other sea birds.

It started when I read this great book called The Founding, which was from the POV of a humpback whale. Then I got into reading all this stuff from John Lilly about taking LSD and going into a sensory deprivation tank. The guy spent his entire life trying to communicate with dolphins. And then one day I just asked myself: how can I translate all that into a side-scrolling game?

Scientists believe that sharks are one of the oldest species of animals still in existence. Nature built them as perfect predators. Perfect killing machines. Nature hasn't had to revise or update them much. They were built right the first time. Dolphins are very different. Scientists say that millions of years ago, dolphins were land animals. Sea mammals not very different from humans and other mammals. They evolved their way back into the ocean. Part of that evolution included learning to cope with predators, with killer whales and sharks. I don't now what sea the Taxxon race evolved in. I don't know what natural predators they faced there. But they were not ready for this ocean. They were not ready to go one-on-one with the masters of Earth's deep seas. They were no match for dolphin or shark. -Animorphs #4, The Visitor page 69

If things continue at the present pace, it is likely that whales, sharks, tuna and dolphins will follow the diprotodons, ground sloths and mammoths to oblivion.

respectively. Diane Claridge Dolphin and beaked whale researcher; wife and research partner of Ken Balcomb. Darlene Ketten Whale and human hearing expert; forensic pathologist, Harvard Medical School and Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. Roger Payne First cetologist to decode and promote humpback whale song and conservation. Chris Clark Director, Bioacoustics Research Program, Cornell University Lab of Ornithology; protégé of Roger Payne.

Through channeling, we can make conscious contact with higher planes. We can also communicate with beings who are physical but nonhumans, such as devas (nature spirits), dolphins and whales, and extraterrestrials.

Kings also sleep; but the clever ones, with one eye open, just like dolphins and whales.

Humpback song has clearly had its effects on human culture—influencing both our music and whaling practices—but what of our interest in whale culture? These discoveries are particularly important for us because there is only one way large numbers of animals can sing the same song that evolves over periods of time that are much less than an individual’s lifetime: culture. Genes

In this scenario, complexity and change may be driven by female choice.83

The characteristics of the dynamics of humpback whale song, evolution at a rather steady rate, with occasional revolutions, match those of human art, music, and literature. In his 1990 book, The Clockwork Muse, Colin Martindale shows that trends over time in human art and music fit with laws derived from what we know of human psychology and the principles of cultural evolution.

This is all speculation, as are our ideas about the overall functions of the songs. However, what we do know about the humpback song is that it is an important part of the acoustic ecology of the ocean; that it is loud, long, complex, beautiful; and that it is culture.

The scientists reviewing McDonald’s paper were fine with a discussion of a frankly tenuous hypothesis that ocean acidification could affect the frequencies of blue whale song, but would not, he felt, be open to an explanation that would be near the top of the list were this the behavior of humans, rather than blue whales: cultural drive propagating around the world.

There is one variant of bubble feeding where the case is stronger for its being culturally based, and this is because, as with the songs of humpback, bowhead, and blue whales, there has been a change in the population’s behavior over timescales of less than a generation. The behavior is called lobtail feeding, which is a variant on the bubble-cloud feeding that we described a little earlier. The

This analysis demonstrates how ecology and culture can interact with each other—ecologically, the availability of a particular prey item, the sand lance, was varying over time. At some point, one bright, or lucky, humpback figured out that hitting the water with his or her tail did something to the sand lance (perhaps causing them to bunch together more, making the shoal easier to enclose with a bubble net), and since then this trick has been spread and maintained in the population by cultural transmission. The

If you’re going to run into your enemies, you better be with your friends, or have some that are close by, willing to be recruited.

superalliance, a

This degree of specialization is not expected unless it takes some practice to drive fish well. It is not clear why certain dolphins become specialized like this—they don’t obviously seem to get more fish and surely use more energy herding than do their comrades, waiting for their food to arrive.

Removing the ink, containing the pigment melanin that inhibits secretions in the digestive system, as well as other chemicals that apparently impair taste and smell, would, the scientists state, “improve palatability and internal digestive processes.

is a specialized behavior and, as a consequence, only occurs in areas where the ecology is right—where prey and sponges are available.34

The cooperatives seem to have ended with the advent of Europeans along the coast, Europeans who on occasion killed the cooperative dolphins. There

Because culture is learned socially, we generally think of social structure as a driver of culture, but these examples suggest the reverse, that cultural behavior can shape society.

then social learning is, down the line, affecting the genetic structure of the species.

Human cultural supremacy over the surface of the earth is recent and not quite complete. If we could have listened at lower frequencies, below the limits of the human ear, we would have heard rumbles and groans of other whales—the finback and the blue—their songs competing in the lowest frequency bands with the recent sound of ships. Could these be other nonhuman cultures?

Genetic determination and social learning are, however, fundamentally different processes. Tellingly, the cultural songs of the oscine birds are generally more complex, sometimes much more so, and more diverse than the genetically driven nonoscine calls.

Genes do not code for behavior—they code for proteins and control the production of those proteins. How

Behavior patterns shared by members of a community that rely on socially learned and transmitted information.”6

We can get caught in what have been called “information cascades,” where incorrect information propagates through a community because individuals, for whatever reason, prefer to copy others rather that trust their own judgment.

In the extreme, fads can arise, spread through, and then disappear from a community in a fraction of a human generation.

Cultures evolve. The culture associated with a community changes over time, moving this way and that, pushed by several forces.

genetic drift, and

Similarly, modern religions that legitimize material wealth seem to be attractive, spreading fast at the expense of more austere variants, while religions that demand human sacrifice have not really stood the test of time.

In frequency-dependent bias, common variants are disproportionately likely to spread. Humpback

Conformity in general is thought to stabilize cultural evolution, although it can also promote rapid change should a new variant cross some threshold of popularity for other reasons.

A religion that promotes fecundity will likely increase the number of its practitioners. And

The renowned biologist and thinker E. O. Wilson calls the study of gene-culture coevolution “one of the great unexplored domains of science.

For similarly unclear reasons, adult men did not take part in this. However, it does seem clear that by consuming the brain tissue of their relatives who had themselves died of kuru, the Fore had spread the disease through their female population. Thus, a culturally transmitted practice led to catastrophe, both for the Fore and for their genes.

The idea that culture can be viewed as a form of inheritance goes back to Charles Darwin, who sometimes did not clearly distinguish between what we now recognize as genetic and cultural inheritances.62

While the definition of culture used in all chapters included transmission by social learning and an element of sharing, as in our definition, the anthropologist authors of the later chapters added additional requirements. These

Michael Tomasello, a psychologist who has done influential research delineating just what makes human culture special, has listed his own “key characteristics of human culture”: universality, by which he means that some cultural traditions are practiced by virtually everyone in a community, such as a language or a religion; uniformity, individuals within communities performing the cultural behavior in the same way; and history, the pattern of cumulative change in behavior over time.83 “History,” as Tomasello uses the word in this context to mean “cumulative culture,” is already on our list. Universality and uniformity seem less fundamentally important. Some elements of human culture, such as language and religion, are often nearly universal and uniform within a community (although they clearly are not in many modern societies). But

Technology has changed the environment of humans and the ecology of Earth. It has

Human technology can be so powerful and effective because it accumulates. Cultural

Morality, by promoting cooperative behavior, can change the whole population biology of a species, and it seems to be an important product of gene-culture coevolution in human societies.

Ethnicity and morality can of course combine, giving the sense that “we” are “good” and “they” are “bad.

In the field of animal behavior, behavioral ecology became “normal science,” in the terminology of the philosopher of science, Thomas Kuhn.116

It soon became clear that elements of the songs of many birds are socially learned, and social learning seemed the most plausible explanation for the spread of a technique by which blue tits opened the tops of British milk bottles.123 Birds seemed to have culture.

Galef and Tomasello come from a null-hypothesis-testing, experimental psychology background. The null hypothesis is something like “chimpanzees do not possess culture,” with culture being defined by something like “traditional behavior transmitted by imitation or teaching.” They could not show in their own or others’ experimental studies that captive chimpanzees could imitate or teach, so did not reject the null hypothesis. No culture.

The sea cows lived in the northern North Pacific and ate kelp. Humans exterminated sea cows in 1768.

The echolocation clicks of sperm whales are very powerful, allowing detection of prey and other things at longer ranges than vision or other senses can manage underwater.9 Sonar can also be very precise. Dolphins and porpoises with their higher frequency echolocation can build detailed pictures of their surroundings. Sonar

Sonar users can sense the bottom and sides of the ocean—islands, seamounts, and coasts—as well as each other, getting detailed pictures of the shapes and inner structures (as in ultrasound scans of human pregnancies—ultrasound is sonar) of potential prey, social partners, and competitors. Sonar can also alert them to the presence of predators, but primarily the sonar of the toothed whales is about finding food.

Terrestrial mammals may be ecosystem-controlling “keystone species,” like elephants, or ecosystem engineers, like beavers. Well before humans, mammals dominated much of the land. They

The ocean covers the majority of planet Earth, contains most of the living world, and is a primary driver of Earth’s biosphere. Life evolved in the ocean and continues to evolve there. The

Water is dense, about 840 times as dense as air—roughly as dense as most life forms, as they are primarily made of water. This means that marine organisms fight no battle with gravity and possess none of the structures that we need on land to combat it. In the ocean, there are no tree trunks. The

Seawater is about 0.5–0.9 percent oxygen at the surface. Most marine animals use gills to get this oxygen into their bodies. A

One can sense and communicate through a variety of channels, primarily what we call the five senses: touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight. Moving from the air to water changes the relative benefit of each of the senses. Chemical

One sense that does do better underwater is sound. It travels about four times faster than in air. More

The sound-producing organs of their terrestrial ancestors, their larynxes, evolved to make louder and more complex sounds. For instance, dolphins have two nasal passages and two sets of sound-producing organs and can simultaneously produce two different sounds. The

The terrestrial heritage of the marine mammals is evident in their air breathing and its consequences for metabolic rates, size, and sound production. There is one other characteristic of the marine mammals and especially the cetaceans that is remarkable among marine creatures, but is less obviously tied to air breathing: their brains.

However, there are actually few good data, or much theory, as to why relative brain size is the best indicator of cognitive ability, other than a general feeling that large animals need large brains. Instead, there is increasing evidence from structural analyses of brains, as well as from attempts to test species with different-sized brains on comparable tasks, that absolute size may be a better general measure of cognitive ability.

So, we can think of the absolute size of a brain as indicating, in a very general way, its cognitive power, while its relative size is a measure of how hard evolution had to struggle to get it that big. Hence, from this perspective, it is easier for larger animals to be smarter, and they generally are. The human brain is big in absolute terms. But it is much more remarkable in relative terms; we devote a lot of our energy to maintaining it, and human females don’t always have an easy time getting that large-brained baby through their pelvises. It seems that large brains were tremendously important to humans during our evolution, and it was worth paying considerable costs to possess them. In

We pay large costs, particularly in energy costs and birthing difficulties, for our cognitive apparatus. Is this another cultural consequence?47

Culture needs a community of social relationships over which the knowledge flows. At

The bowhead lives its life extremely slowly, becoming sexually mature at about age twenty-five, with females giving birth every seven years or so; if it avoids the whalers, a bowhead has a good chance of living well past a century.19 It is definitively the

The first time I ever recorded the songs of the humpback whales at night was off Bermuda. It was also the first time I had ever heard the abyss. Normally you don’t hear the size of the ocean when you are listening, but I heard it that night . . . That’s what whales do; they give the ocean its voice, and the voice they give is ethereal and unearthly.”44

People listened to whale songs, and politicians listened to the whale-song listening people and, then, finally, acted on the warnings of the population biologist Cassandras. The

ocean competition is usually a scramble—who can get the most per unit time—rather than a contest in which only one competitor gets the spoils. In scramble competitions, the emphasis changes from the competitors themselves to the resources. One expects less antagonism between members of the same species in the fluid, three-dimensional ocean.

Going down, light levels decrease so that at depths of more than a few hundred meters there is no photosynthesis, and, with a few remarkable exceptions, no primary productivity.19 Life in the dark ocean is largely dependent on what comes down from the surface waters. A few hundred meters is also the depth of the oxygen minimum layer, where dissolved oxygen is so scarce that animals with gills—that is most marine animals—are in a bind. Some, like the vampire squid, have evolved physiologies to deal with low oxygen levels, but all must use energy sparingly.

In fact, on land the amount of change in the environment is quite similar over a wide range of scales of both time and space, once regular cycles like day-night and season have been accounted for. This pattern, in which variability is similar over a range of scales, is sometimes called white noise, as the color white is an equal mixture of short and long wavelength electromagnetic radiation. In

Newborns can be up to 20 percent of their mother’s mass in the smaller cetacean species. This is extreme. Few, if any, large terrestrial mammals give birth to young that are more than 15 percent of their own weight.26 The minimum size for a newborn marine mammal seems to be about 0.6 meters long and five kilograms.

Their myoglobin, which holds oxygen in the muscles, evolved to become more electrically charged and therefore better at holding onto oxygen, so their muscles became huge oxygen stores.

give birth to precocious offspring, able to swim immediately after birth and so to follow their mothers through their fluid world. For

The entropy level indicates the complexity of a signal, or how much information it might hold, such as the frequency of elements within the signal and the ability to make a prediction about what will come next in the signal, based on what has come before. Human languages are approximately ninth-order entropy, which means that if you had a nine-word (or shorter) sequence from, say, English, you would have a chance of guessing what might come next. If the sequence is ten words or more, you'll have no chance of guessing the next word correctly. The simplest forms of communications have first-order entropy. Squirrel monkeys have second or third-order, and dolphins measure higher, around fourth-order. They may be even higher, but to establish that, we would need more data. Doyle plans to record a number of additional species, including various birds and humpback whales.

While I was doing my fellowship in child and adolescent psychiatry, my family and I lived in Hawaii. When my son was seven years old, I took him to a marine life educational and entertainment park for the day. We went to the killer whale show, the dolphin show, and finally the penguin show. The penguin’s name was Fat Freddie. He did amazing things: He jumped off a twenty-foot diving board; he bowled with his nose; he counted with his flippers; he even jumped through a hoop of fire. I had my arm around my son, enjoying the show, when the trainer asked Freddie to get something. Freddie went and got it, and he brought it right back. I thought, “Whoa, I ask this kid to get something for me, and he wants to have a discussion with me for twenty minutes, and then he doesn’t want to do it!” I knew my son was smarter than this penguin. I went up to the trainer afterward and asked, “How did you get Freddie to do all these really neat things?” The trainer looked at my son, and then she looked at me and said, “Unlike parents, whenever Freddie does anything like what I want him to do, I notice him! I give him a hug, and I give him a fish.” The light went on in my head. Whenever my son did what I wanted him to do, I paid little attention to him, because I was a busy guy, like my own father. However, when he didn’t do what I wanted him to do, I gave him a lot of attention because I didn’t want to raise a bad kid! I was inadvertently teaching him to be a little monster in order to get my attention. Since that day, I have tried hard to notice my son’s good acts and fair attempts (although I don’t toss him a fish, since he doesn’t care for them) and to downplay his mistakes. We’re both better people for it. I collect penguins as a way to remind myself to notice the good things about the people in my life a lot more than the bad things. This has been so helpful for me as well as for many of my patients. It is often necessary to have something that reminds us of this prescription. It’s not natural for most of us to notice what we like about our life or what we like about others, especially if we unconsciously use turmoil to stimulate our prefrontal cortex. Focusing on the negative aspects of others or of your own life makes you more vulnerable to depression and can damage your relationships.

That’s why Fenwick and Oliviera went for the noise theory,’ said Palm. ‘Years ago, when the navy started experimenting with sonar, there was an upsurge in beachings all over the world. Large numbers of whales and dolphins died. They all showed signs of heavy bleeding in the brain and in the inner ear - injuries consistent with noise damage. In each instance, environmentalists proved that NATO military exercises had been going on close to where the bodies were found. But tell that to the navy!

I had heard others describe wild dolphin encounters as comparable to swimming in champagne distilled from joy, and I now understood their search for an apt metaphor to describe such euphoria.

often felt locked into these gazes and lost in a dreamy trance as Iwa would continue to pull me through the portals of her eyes into the gentleness of her heart.

We didn’t realize at the time that the up-and-down motion of the fins we saw moving through the water were actually quite different from the side-to-side motion used by Hawaiian sharks

the unfolding waves of sound are like an underwater orchestra or the endless improvisation of a jazz band. On the Great Barrier Reef, the humpback whales sing the soprano melody. Fish supply the chorus: whooping clownfish, grunting cod, and crunching parrotfish. Sea urchins scrape, resonating like tubas. Percussion is the domain of chattering dolphins and clacking shrimp, who use their pincers to create bubbles that explode with a loud bang. Lobsters rasp their antennae on their shells like washboards. Rainfall, wind, and waves provide the backbeat. To get the best seat, you would have to attend the concert in the middle of the night at the full moon, when fish chorusing typically crests. But you wouldn't necessarily need to have a front row seat: mass fish choruses can be heard up to 50 miles away, and whale sounds resonate for hundreds of miles.

From an evolutionary perspective, some of the best evidence that such a critical function exists may come from dolphins, whales, and some species of birds. Dolphins have a serious problem: If they were to fall asleep, they would stop swimming, sink, and drown. They can’t afford to sleep. If sleep had housekeeping functions only, this wouldn’t be a problem. Evolution could relatively easily produce a dolphin that simply didn’t sleep.

Dolphins and whales evolved the ability to have only half of their brain sleep at a time, switching from one side of the brain to the other every hour or so.

Dolphins and killer whales have a complex language, and we know that dolphins have individual names.

The Guardian reported that a beluga whale named Noc had, after seven years in captivity, begun to mimic human speech. Belugas, members of the toothed whale family along with dolphins, have been nicknamed “the canaries of the sea,” for their expressive vocals.

Delphinidae, or oceanic dolphins, are the largest family of toothed whales, containing approximately thirty-seven species that range from the four-foot-long Hector’s dolphin to the twelve-foot bottlenose dolphin to the twenty-five-foot orca, or killer whale.

Both whales and dolphins have pelvic (hip) bones, meaning their ancestors walked on land, but went back into the sea.

An article in this month’s National Geographic magazine quotes a scientist referring to the “undistractibility” of these animals on their journeys. “An arctic tern on its way from Tierra del Fuego to Alaska, for instance, will ignore a nice smelly herring offered from a bird-watcher’s boat in Monterey Bay. Local gulls will dive voraciously for such handouts, while the tern flies on. Why?” The article’s author, David Quammen, attempts an answer, saying “the arctic tern resists distraction because it is driven at that moment by an instinctive sense of something we humans find admirable: larger purpose.” In the same article, biologist Hugh Dingle notes that these migratory patterns reveal five shared characteristics: the journeys take the animals outside their natural habitat; they follow a straight path and do not zigzag; they involve advance preparation, such as overfeeding; they require careful allocations of energy; and finally, “migrating animals maintain a fervid attentiveness to the greater mission, which keeps them undistracted by temptations and undeterred by challenges that would turn other animals aside.” In other words, they are pilgrims with a purpose. In the case of the arctic tern, whose journey is 28,000 miles, “it senses it can eat later.” It can rest later. It can mate later. Its implacable focus is the journey; its singular intent is arrival. Elephants, snakes, sea snakes, sea turtles, myriad species of birds, butterflies, whales, dolphins, bison, bees, insects, antelopes, wildebeests, eels, great white sharks, tree frogs, dragon flies, crabs, Pacific blue tuna, bats, and even microorganisms – all of them have distinct migratory patterns, and all of them congregate in a special place, even if, as individuals, they have never been there before. -Hamza Yusuf on the Hajj of Community

LOOKING FOR THE KINGDOM The north shore of Kauai is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and the pastures above the cliffs overlooking Anini Beach are some of the last open lands in that paradise. From those verdant meadows you can look out on the whales and dolphins playing in the Pacific, watch the breakers roll in and crash over the reef below. It is an enchanting place that casts an Eden-like spell on even the most cynical tourist. A friend of ours has been advocating for the protection of those gorgeous meadows; he took us there last winter to see a view that may soon be available only to the very rich. The pastures have already been marked out for small five-acre “ranchettes,” each plot going for several million; add to that the home required by the development and the bill will run more than $20 million. “The young rich have discovered Kauai,” our friend told us. “Zuckerberg has a home here; so do the guys from Apple and Google. This is the place to be.” We stood there watching the gulls and frigate birds soaring on the warm updrafts, drinking in the beauty only money can apparently buy. It had been raining; a rainbow appeared over the lush cliffs to our right. The untouched beauty of the place feels like it has been held in time since the islands were formed; unblemished beauty. Forgetting what the promise means, my heart began to ache again for life as it was meant to be, and I started to scramble internally trying to figure out how we could grab our own little slice of Eden. “They are looking for the kingdom,” Stasi said. “They are trying to buy the kingdom.” And with that, the spell was broken. Suddenly the emptiness of it all became clear—not the longing for heaven on earth, but the grasping to buy it, to arrange for our piece of it apart from the palingenesia. Now, most of the human race doesn’t have the kind of money that allows them to purchase paradise—we sure don’t—but that doesn’t stop our ravenous hunger or desperate searching

From Africa to the western United States to the story of the rainforest of the Amazon, it is the fate of many wild creatures either to be unwanted by men or wanted too much, despised as a means to progress or desired as a means to progress - beloved and brutalized all at once, like the elephant and whale and dolphin.

Keep in mind that this series starts with a singing dragon lost at sea, calling out to dolphins and whales for help. It gets rescued by a passing ship that also happens to be carrying a scholarly dwarf. The dwarf befriends the dragon and nurses it back to health, then saves its life when the ship’s captain comes in the night to cut the dragon’s throat and get the gold in its gullet, and that’s just the first five pages—so, you know, for this story to get even weirder is a not-insignificant development.

electric toothbrushes, medical ultrasounds, and high-frequency whale and dolphin echolocation work

Between 1945 and 1982 alone, the world’s whaling fleets harvested some two million great whales, while fishing vessels in the eastern Pacific knowingly killed more than six million dolphins in the process of catching yellowfin tuna—a method called “fishing on porpoise.” During these same years, the whaling nations regularly targeted orcas, with Norway killing more than 2,000 and Japan another 1,500.

When it comes to marine life, our existence depends upon their existence.

IF I WANTED A BOAT I would want a boat, if I wanted a boat, that bounded hard on the waves, that didn’t know starboard from port and wouldn’t learn, that welcomed dolphins and headed straight for the whales, that, when rocks were close, would slide in for a touch or two, that wouldn’t keep land in sight and went fast, that leaped into the spray. What kind of life is it always to plan and do, to promise and finish, to wish for the near and the safe? Yes, by the heavens, if I wanted a boat I would want a boat I couldn’t steer.

There the Inner Lands ended and there was nothing but the pale blue-green mosaic of the empty sea, sat here and there with a tiny dolphin or a whale.

dolphins and whales no longer use their nasal passages to smell. What are these genes doing? The former nasal passage has been modified into a blowhole, which is used in breathing, not in smelling. This has had a remarkable effect on the smelling genes: all of a cetacean’s odor genes are present, but not one is functional.

In a hidden paradise where bountiful leaves danced with the emerald waves, a young woman epitomized the very spirit of femininity, radiating a serenity that mirrored the enchanting landscape surrounding her. This secluded island, a precious jewel far removed from the turmoil of the outside world, a realm where nature thrived in its most exquisite form. Each day, she wandered through the vibrant, verdant jungle, her heart alive with the symphony of chirping birds and the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by the soft caress of the breeze. The air was rich with the heady fragrance of blooming blossoms, and golden sunlight streamed through the lush canopy, casting a delicate mosaic of light and shadow upon the jungle floor. In this ethereal haven, she felt an intimate connection to the Earth, as if the very essence of nature cradled her in a loving embrace. The ocean, a breathtaking canvas of swirling blues and greens, held its own kind of magic. Majestic whales glided gracefully beneath the surface, their haunting songs weaving tales of the ocean's deepest secrets. Wise turtles ambled across the sunkissed sands, while playful dolphins frolicked in the waves, their joyous leaps celebrating the boundless freedom of life in harmony with nature. As the sun descended beyond the horizon, splashing the sky with vibrant shades of blazing red, gleaming gold, delicate pink and lavender, she often found herself standing at the water's edge, captivated by the breathtaking beauty that surrounded her. The gentle lullaby of the ocean, entwined with the whispers of the jungle, created a symphony of serenity that enveloped her, allowing her thoughts to drift like clouds in the vast sky above. In this tranquil paradise, time seemed to stand still, each moment stretching into eternity like a cherished memory. The island's mysteries slowly unfolded, revealing hidden waterfalls that sparkled like diamonds, secret groves filled with the sweet scent of jasmine and plumeria, and breathtaking vistas that stole her breath away. It was a realm of endless wonder, where every corner held a new discovery, each more enchanting than the last. Here, in the heart of the Pacific she uncovered her true self ~ a reflectiocn of the beauty that surrounded her. In this harmonious environment, she felt eternally at peace, wrapped in the loving arms of nature and the island's enchanting magic. Each day became a celebration of romance and life, a poignant reminder that the greatest treasures lie not in material possessions but in the simple joys of existence, the deep connections forged with the world around her, and the profound serenity of being truly alive, where love blooms in every heartbeat and every breath...

In hunter-gatherer times, [the amount of energy human beings use each day] was about 2,500 calories, all of it food. That is the daily energy intake of a common dolphin. A modern human being uses 31,000 calories a day, most of it in the form of fossil fuel. That is the intake of a pilot whale. And the average American uses six times that-as much as a sperm whale. We have become, in other words, different from the people we used to be.... We've ... gotten bigger. We appear to be the same species, with stomachs of the same size, but we aren't.1o

There are currently four species of sirenian: three manatee species in the Atlantic and Caribbean and one species of dugong in the Indian and Pacific oceans.

3.2. Evolution of the marine mammals, showing aquatic, semiaquatic, and largely terrestrial groups of species. Copyright Emese Kazár.

There is a blackout in media coverage of issues concerning whales and dolphins in Japan, with the exception of the government's viewpoint. It is simply amazing how little good information (and how much bad information) the public in Japan gets about the worldwide controversy over whaling and dolphin killing, all because the media bows to the wishes of the Japan Fisheries Agency.

Unlike their terrestrial counterparts, the large sea animals suffered relatively little from the Cognitive and Agricultural Revolutions. But many of them are on the brink of extinction now as a result of industrial pollution and human overuse of oceanic resources. If things continue at the present pace, it is likely that whales, sharks, tuna and dolphins will follow the diprotodons, ground sloths and mammoths to oblivion. Among all the world’s large creatures, the only survivors of the human flood will be humans themselves, and the farmyard animals that serve as galley slaves in Noah’s Ark.

embrace of the technocratic future leaves us bereft of the magic of the forest from whence we came. In his book, Nature Revealed, Edward O. Wilson writes, “Human nature today remains Paleolithic even in the midst of accelerating technological advance. Thus corporate CEOs impelled by stone-age emotions work international deals with cellular telephones at 30,000 feet.” Open wilderness formed us. We are wild in nature, made of the same stuff as the dolphins and whales, the island foxes, sea birds, and every other creature – bones and sinew, muscle and blood.

If we knew how many species we’ve already eradicated, we might be more motivated to protect those that still survive. This is especially relevant to the large animals of the oceans. Unlike their terrestrial counterparts, the large sea animals suffered relatively little from the Cognitive and Agricultural Revolutions. But many of them are on the brink of extinction now as a result of industrial pollution and human overuse of oceanic resources. If things continue at the present pace, it is likely that whales, sharks, tuna and dolphins will follow the diprotodons, ground sloths and mammoths to oblivion.

Tarpon, moray eels, gray mullet, sole, sharks, sea turtles, sea lions, seals, dolphins, stingrays, sea snakes, iguanas, crocodiles, frigate birds, cormorants, pelicans, penguins, albatross, whale meat, crayfish, crabs, octopuses, chickens, rats, pigs, sheep, dogs, hyenas, monkeys, a porcupine, songbirds, a bag of money, leather coats, boat cushions, driftwood, conch shells, a large tom-tom drum, horseshoe crabs, an unopened can of salmon, a wallet, a two-pound coil of copper wire, nuts and bolts, bundles of wool, cotton, silk, pens, plastic bags, rubber tires, cans, bottles, pieces of metal, bags of potatoes, coal, a driver’s license, a cow’s hoof, a horse’s skull, a deer’s antlers, lobsters, a chicken coop with feathers and bones inside, license plates, gasoline cans, cigarette tins, men, women, and children all have been found in the stomachs of tiger sharks at one time or another, making them the least specialized species when it comes to diet.

She sat down at the end of the pier and dangled her legs over the edge. It was about a fifteen- or twenty-foot drop to the ocean. And everywhere she looked, it went on forever. There were millions of different kinds of fish, thousands of which nobody had even heard of. There were “Gardens of Eels” that covered acres of the ocean floor. There were caves and mountains and valleys, most of which were still a secret. It was a great, unexplored mystery. Octopuses, sharks, bat rays, sea horses, bumphead hogfish, long-snouted hawkfish, fat innkeepers—the ocean covered more than two-thirds of the Earth’s surface. Great pods of whales could swim around unnoticed, dolphins, angelfish, rainbow fish, clown fish, boots and sneakers. Her hands gripped the pier as she ducked her head under the wooden railing. Moonfish, goose-fish, flashlight fish, barracudas, she took several long deep breaths. Stonefish, lobsters, paddlefish, glass catfish, her muscles tightened. Tigerfish, scissors-tail fish, the water rocked beneath her.

It’s one of the great privileges of adulthood to know that there’s nothing commonplace in watching a minke whale breaching a few metres from your boat, with its calf following shortly after; or in watching a pod of dolphins racing in front of the bow, twelve of them jumping out of the water in a synchronised wave. All this life—all this survival—in the deepest cold.

Gary Boyle used to say that we are lonely because of our evolutionary history. Our ancestors were hominids, just one species in a world full of other kinds of hominids. There are many species of dolphins and whales; they aren't alone. But our cousins all went, we out-competed them. We're not evolved for a world where the only minds are ours. We're lonely but we don't know why.

These neurological processes work similarly in almost every species, including birds and even reptiles. That is, fear responses aren't coordinated by the parts of the brain that allow us to achieve particularly human cognitive acts, such as writing novels or solving crossword puzzles, the frontal, temporal, and parietal lobes of the neocortex. This wrinkled layer of gray matter that's highly developed in humans and other great apes, as well as whales, dolphins, and elephants, helps coordinate complex cognitive processes. Our responses to fear and anxiety are different and probably originate in the subcortical regions of the brain, shared by most vertebrates and perhaps other creatures as well. Animals capable of complex thought may have more nuanced and coordinated responses to danger, perceived or real, once we sense it. Humans, and other animals with a lot of brainpower, can construct elaborate escape plans, for example, or develop sophisticated ideas about whatever is agitating or scaring us. But the emotional experience of the anxiety or fear might be similar regardless of intelligence. These similarities are one set of reasons that nonhuman animals have been used for more than a century as neurophysiology research subjects in the quest to develop therapies for people. In the mid 1930s, the Yale neurophysiologist John Fulton performed the first frontal lobotomies on two anxious and angry chimps named Becky and Lucy. After the operation Fulton reported that Becky in particular looked like she'd joined a "happiness cult." His results helped inspire other researchers to try the surgery on people. Electroconvulsive "shock" therapy was first developed in other creatures as well, not as a treatment for animal schizophrenia but rather to determine safe voltage levels for humans. Italian researchers induced seizures in dogs and, in 1937, visited a pig slaughterhouse in Rome where the animals were stunned into unconsciousness before their throats were cut. If the pigs weren't immediately killed, they experienced the kind of convulsions that the researchers hoped would function as psychiatric cures in human patients. By 1938, a schizophrenic man known as Enrico X was given eighty volts of electricity that caused him to seize, go pale, and, oddly enough, start singing. After two more sets of shocks he called out in clear Italian, "Attention! Another time is murderous!" Within a few years, ECT had taken hold of psychiatry, first in Switzerland, then sweeping through Germany, France, the United Kingdom, Latin America, and, finally, the United States. By 1947, nine out of ten American mental hospitals were using some form of electroshock therapy on patients.

Lori Marino is a senior lecturer in the Neuroscience and Behavioral Biology Program at Emory University and has researched primate, dolphin, and whale intelligence and brain evolution for decades. She has also worked on key studies of dolphin cognition, proving, along with Diana Reiss, that dolphins can recognize themselves in mirrors. “I think that emotions "although they are subject to selection" are one of the oldest parts of psychology, laid down in the first animals," Marino told me. "This is because without emotions an individual cannot act or make the kinds of decisions that are key to survival. Of course, some emotions are basic and others are tied into cognitive processes, so some are more complex than others. But every animal has emotions." The ethologist Jonathan Balcombe believes that emotions likely evolved with consciousness, as the two serve each other. Today, researchers are no longer debating whether other animals are conscious, but, instead, to what degree. Recent studies have attempted to show that consciousness isn't limited to humans, great apes, mammals, or even, perhaps, vertebrates. A subset of these animals has also been shown to be self-conscious in the context of cognitive and behavioral experiments; that is, they were able to conceive of themselves as beings independent from other animals and from the rest of their environment. Mirror recognition tests are the stock in trade of animal cognition research; they consist of drawing or dyeing a mark on an animal's body and then placing a mirror in front of them. If while looking in the mirror the animal touches the marked spot in a statistically significant manner, he or she is demonstrating self-awareness. That is, the animals are using the mirror as a tool to explore the mark that wasn't there before, something the researchers consider proof that the animals conceive of themselves as the beings in the mirror. As of this writing, the only animals to have been proven self-aware in such a way are chimpanzees, orangutans, elephants, orcas, belugas, bottlenose dolphins, magpies, and humans, but only after the age of two. Pigs have been tested, but the results were inconclusive. One pig looked behind the mirror to find the food reflected in it. And while African Grey parrots used the mirrors as tools to find food in cupboards, it was not obvious that they recognized themselves. These experiments, while helpful, demonstrate only which animals are interested in looking at themselves in mirrors. The actual list of self-aware animals may be much longer. The African Greys, for example, might have known that they were looking at themselves but may have found the mirrors more worthwhile to use as tools for finding snacks. Not caring about what you look like isn't the same as not knowing what you look like. In 2012 a group of prominent neuroanatomists, cognitive neuroscientists, neurophysiologists, and ethologists released the Cambridge Declaration on Consciousness. The declaration sought to establish, once and for all, that mammals, birds, and even some cephalopods, like octopi, are conscious creatures with the capacity to experience emotions. The authors argued that convergent evolution in animals gave many creatures the capacity for emotional experiences, even if they don't have a cortex, or at least one as complex as the human neocortex.

Not that she didn’t love the vast seagoing mammals. It was impossible to look at a pilot whale cutting through the water, or a dolphin leaping out of a wave for the sheer joy of being alive, and not love them.