In my last post, I gave several examples of wild animals that
make and use tools. There are myriad other examples from nature that I could
site, to demonstrate that we humans are now understood not to be the only tool
fabricators and manipulators. So much for the dumbness of wild critters. This
thought brings up a question: Are there domesticated
critters that use tools?
Here’s an example that recently gave me a striking display of
its disinclination to fashion or use
tools: the domesticated dog. (I specifically use the adjective “domesticated”
here, because wild dogs have been
observed using tools. As I mentioned earlier, wild creatures are smarter than
their domesticated cousins.)
I was watching a particular dog—my dog—who was deeply and
contentedly absorbed in chewing on a bone: a cow’s thick leg bone, with loads
of tasty and nutritious marrow inside. The bone was too strong to crush in his
teeth, so he had to be satisfied with sticking his tongue as far down the core
of the bone as he could get. Each lick was bringing him only the tiniest taste
of marrow. It was an excruciatingly slow process. A human—or even a wild
crow—would have been pondering alternative assaults on the bone that would have
immediately yielded more of the desired marrow.
I was admiring the tenacity that he exhibited, when the
thought came to me that, with a knife or other pointed implement, I could
quickly dig out most of that marrow for him. A follow-up thought: If I were a
dog, I’d grab a stick, have that bone cleaned out in short order, and move on
to other adventures. Why did this not occur to my doggie—a critter who I
consider to be well above normal canine intelligence? He has demonstrated his
mental aptitude in many other delightful ways. Why be so dull now? Couldn’t he
figure out how to seize a twig in his teeth, jam it down the center of the
bone, and withdraw it, covered in delicious marrow? Hey, a crow can do it!
Isn’t my dog smarter than a crow?
I was becoming a little disillusioned with my canine pal,
when yet another thought came to me: Why does a dog need to use tools? He can rely upon humans to do the work for him! Just a few tens of thousands of
years ago, the dog transformed himself from a wild beast to a cuddly companion
of Homo sapiens. He endeared himself to
our ancestors, by eating our trash and scaring off the many demons who lurk in
the dark. (Most of the demons are illusory, but it’s to a dog’s advantage to
spice our imaginations and then act as though he is saving us.) The dog thus
morphed from a drab-colored, wolf-like creature to the adorable and cute
companion who has been at our side ever since.
That was a very smart move on the part of my dog’s canine
ancestors. They morphed themselves from hungry, lonely outcasts to pampered
sidekicks. They willingly submitted to our control, in exchange for a far
cushier lifestyle. We may view them as submissive and malleable slaves… they
don’t care. They have no face to lose. They’re not proud. They’ve gotten what
they want from us: comfort and regular meals. Who is smarter—us or them?
So, maybe my dog is much more astute than I give him credit
for. Why should the dog put all that effort into learning how to make and
manipulate tools, when he can get us to do it for him? We do have that
opposable thumb, after all. The dog can allow us to do all the work, as he
benefits from all the dividends. He also probably feels that the wild animals
can go ahead and show off with their tools. They may appear to be clever, but
simply haven’t realized that life is all about training humans to do the work
for them, so they can lie around, endlessly chewing on bones. My dog feels
sorry for his wild compatriots… they’re not half as clever as domesticated dogs
are.
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