How Deeply do Animals Think?

ROUNDIN GABE ND in the road which nudges the Zambezi River for two kilometres near Victoria Falls, I came upon a hefty bull hippo. Standing with his ba ck to the river and his head jutting into the roa d, he l ooked at me with no discernibl eex pression. I stopped the truck about 15m away – a bit close, but I was very mindful of the unpredictable nature of hippo.

I have enjoyed trying to read the eyes of elephant, convinced that these reveal much of their intelligence and mood, as do a dog’s. A buffalo, as brilliantly described by Robert Ruark, looks at you as if you owe him money. His eyes do not mirror any intent, merely indifference, with a hint of loathing.

A hippo’s eyes have depth and do reflect anger. This one just stared, so I kept still and stared back. I had surprised him; he’d put his road crossing on hold, perceiving a potentially violent encounter with something bigger than he, and possibly identifying me as a threat.

I could see the muscles around his eyes moving – presumably, he was debating what to do. I detected no panic, just careful deliberation. Within a minute, he swung his head toward me, took two quick steps in my direction and briefly opened his mouth to demonstrate his tusks. Then he turned his head as if in a huff and thumped across the road, disappearing into the bushes. This action appeared to follow careful deliberation; it was not an instinctive reaction.

Buffalo are scary. They do not always openly display anger. I have seen them (live and on video) walk slowly over to a vehicle with no indication of malice, then hook the vehicle and violently lift it. Their eyes reveal nothing bar the usual ever-present dislike that lurks within them. Once again, this is no instinctive reaction, but appears to be a deliberate plan of action.

Crocodiles run mainly on instinct, but their instincts are keener than we think, and like most animals, they can learn from error and repetition. A colleague ran a croc farm, and although staffed by experienced people, cleaning the pens was fraught with potential danger. I was upgrading the croc farm’s safety obligations, drawing up a set of legal work-place safety procedures. I wouldn’t go into the pens as I believe constant close exposure to humans in their territory made crocs instinctively aware of our weaknesses; I felt unsafe.

A tourist was showing off by extending his arm over the fence, waving his hand above some small crocs, withdrawing it when they reacted. One croc did not join in; it lay watching the others jump and miss. The tourist became braver, hanging over the rail and dangling his arm directly over the water, higher now, but steady, without the brief dip and withdrawal. The second time he tried this, the previously sedentary croc struck, firmly attaching its teeth onto his hand. This croc manifested its instinct to remain immobile and patient until the victim was within certain striking distance, but also, I believe, an ability to learn quickly from error and repetition.

I had a tough time hunting down a pair of nasty, goat-killing hyenas. One would wait next to the wooden poles of the kraal fence, while the other approached the opposite fence of the enclosure and urinated on it. To get away from the smell of the urine which warned of immediate danger, the goats would rush to the other side and bunch together against the fence. The waiting hyena would then force its jaws between the wooden poles and grab a leg, pull it through and rip it off, then another.

During my attempts to intervene, the hyenas would see or hear my truck approaching and simply stay away. They knew I represented danger. They would have recognised the obvious signs: the engine noise, the clanking of metal, the smell of petrol fumes, my human scent and perhaps the sound of my voice. But it could be more complex: cooking smells in my clothing, paraffin smoke from my canvas tent, even gun-oil.

These hyenas regularly hit a certain kraal. I told the villagers to lock their dogs away. I did no cooking, and after leaving my vehicle far away, I walked to the kraal, where I slept in one of the huts. Hearing the bleating of frightened goats, I got up and walked towards the goat kraal by the light of the good moon. I kept to the shadows and moved slowly and carefully. As I edged around an old hut, I saw one hyena clearly standing out against the earthen surface. As he tried to run, he met a 215gr RNSN .303 bullet. The other hyena vanished.

Animal instinct is amazing, and some are also highly intelligent – scary, quite frankly.