Humans, Animals and the Spectrum of Otherness

By viewing animals as “others” we have a natural curiosity towards them and we feel as though we have an invitation to inquisitively interrogate their every move. Unlike our curiosity of humans which revolves around our unique differences, our curiosity in animals lies in the similarities. We are able to see similarities in their physical structure, in their actions, and we place labels on their expressions so that they appear to have similar emotions to us. Armed with these notions of otherness, we then proceed to develop a closeness to animals or we keep ourselves at a distance. And some of us end up somewhere in between.

The degree of otherness we accept influences the way we relate to animals and how we include them in our lives. As children we are presented with materials to help us learn, almost all of which anthropomorphize animals into some sort of human form. Of anthropomorphism, Esther Woolfson, author of Corvus: A Life with Birds, states, “it is the desire to mould ideas and images of animals in ways which allow humans to control or understand only within the narrow framework of what we ourselves may be..." (151) By reading books to our children about a bear family that lives in a tree house, we are able to keep our children at a safe distance from wildlife. We believe our children are not ready to learn the harsh reality of the natural world; yet at the same time, they are intrigued by animals. By reading our children these stories, they are able to learn about human relationships and conflict in the form of something intriguing to them, a fuzzy and furry cartoon bear family.

Paul Shepard states in his book, Thinking Animals, “The distinction between animals as figurative people and as surrogate people may seem unnecessarily fine because we are not used to making it. But the difference is fundamental and it influences the way we see the animal world all our lives and therefore the way we see ourselves.” (Shepard, 250) Since childhood we have become so accustomed to reading picture books about animals living in houses, wearing clothes, and eating the same foods we eat. When we are told these same stories over and over again in different forms, they are bound to take place in our memory and influence our view of animals. We might become oblivious to the fact that many bears are solitary creatures and don’t coexist their entire lives with a mate and cubs. In contrast, we might learn one single attribute of another animal and believe that this attribute defines this animal. We could go on fearing and despising black birds our entire life because we have heard numerous folktales of conniving, death predicting ravens.

An example of a person who desired a closeness to animals, based on their otherness is Timothy Treadwell. He believed that wildlife, in particular grizzly bears, have been misunderstood. The degree of otherness that Treadwell speaks of is the thought that grizzly bears are viewed as vicious, killing animals and little else. While Treadwell was aware that grizzly bears are a part of wildlife and that their home is in a different place than ours, he so eagerly desired a closeness with them, that he, invited himself into their home. He craved a friendship that wasn’t available to him due to the otherness of these animals. The grizzly bears whom Treadwell camped next to did not have a need for human friendship, yet Treadwell needed them. He needed to see them beyond their otherness. In one scene Treadwell is shown petting and playing with the fox whom he named, Timmy. He pleads to the audience, “please stop shooting these animals for their fur.” He insists that if hunters could truly see how cute and sweet these animals were, they would not kill them. I wholeheartedly agree, yet this scene shows that Timothy was focused on certain attributes about these animals and not the intricacies of their lives, which are much more complicated than he showed his audience. He was not placing value on the other parts of animals lives, those that make them others, different from ourselves. The audience that Treadwell hoped for were the ones who thought Timothy was crazy and got what he deserved, to be killed by the animal that he loved the most. It is disheartening that someone with such obvious love for these animals did not get his message across positively. The way in which Treadwell viewed animals as others created a desire in him to be their friends. In the end, this view distracted him from what was most important to him, the safety and well-being of the bears.

Similar to Treadwell’s initial desire to present people with a way to coexist with wildlife is the philosophy of Vince Shute and his Wildlife Sanctuary. Shute lived in the woods for a number of years as a logger and frequently encountered black bears. He and his fellow loggers would shoot and kill every black bear they saw in order to avoid conflict and the possibility of an attack. After observing these animals more frequently, Shute felt that they were not a threat and that rather than killing them, he needed to teach people how to coexist with them. Shute started his Wildlife Sanctuary in 1993 and it still exists as a safe haven for black bears and other wildlife today. In the view that Shute held, he desired to put the otherness of the black bears on display for the public to see. He wanted onlookers to see the bears in their natural habitat so they could understand the bear life and understand that they could coexist with the bears. By viewing these bears as others, Shute created, at the same time, a closeness and a distance between humans and bears. He made a space for the bears where they would not be threatened by humans and where humans could view them without being fearful. He also created a positive distance with these animals by not disclosing the fact that when the bears leave the lines of the sanctuary they may present their natural fear of humans and by teaching us of the ways in which we can coexist with bears without killing them, but by letting them be bears.

For some, their view of animals as others creates an ambivalence towards the capacity in which animals are in their lives. Many scientists, biologists and farmers pursue their line of work because they are curious, interested in, or feel they have a love of non-human animals. Scientists and biologists may desire to perform research that will one day help their subjects. Farmers feel they are showing their love for animals by feeding them, helping to raise their young, and ensuring their survival, even if for a limited time. When a person’s line of work represents animals as subjects or financial gain, their view of them as others stretches; it becomes more and more difficult to see them as the animals that they once loved and felt a closeness to. In Barry Lopez’s chapter, Tornarssuk, in his book, Arctic Dreams, one research scientist states of polar bear research, “I felt I had invaded her privacy. For the remainder of the day I could not rid myself of this image of vulnerability." (Lopez, 118) In order to obtain research results, this scientist had witnessed the bears being drugged, tagged, darted, made vulnerable, and even killed. His view of these animals had shifted into an otherness that no longer correlated with his beliefs.

Another example of a scientist’s ambivalence took place at the presence of forty-one beached whales on the Oregon Coast. One scientist as the scene to conduct research stated, "It hurt me more than watching human beings die. I couldn't cope with the pain, the futility...I just turned into myself. It brought out the scientist in me." (Lopez, 139) It seems as if this woman took her notion of these whales as others and omitted from her mind any similarities they might have to us and any compassion for the forty-one deaths taking place. She was able to take this idea of others and make it equivalent to the scientific idea of a subject. Viewing the whales close to the end of the spectrum of otherness, as subjects, helped her to better perform the task at hand – getting samples of these curious other creatures.

Through my observation of our treatment of certain animals, it is clear that many of us believe that animals are here on this earth for us alone, for our pleasure and enjoyment. As the human race, we undoubtedly feel superior and therefore are able to make a distinction between animals as others and ourselves as superior. By viewing animals at this end of the otherness spectrum we are able to find similarities and patterns among human and non-human animals, but the differences are clear enough that we feel it is our right to control their lives. With this point of view, animals lives are not as significant as our own, they are here for us to kill, to eat, and to enjoy aesthetically. Some farmers in agro-business truly feel that they love their farm animals. They are able to step back and place symbolic value on these animals, in the form of dollar signs and hamburgers, these symbols, for a time, make the farmers love the animals even more. The animals provide a living for these farmers, they make their house payments, car payments, and put food on the table. At the showing of the documentary, Peaceable Kingdom, in Seattle, Howard Lyman, a former cattle rancher, spoke of how this view of animals eventually caught up to him. As he turned his animals into business his view of them as others began to stretch further and further down the spectrum. After a revelation of sorts, he now views them as others, but in a positive and balanced way. They are different, they speak another language, but they are also similar in that they have emotions, habits, and patterns of behavior, just like us. This new view has impacted Lyman’s life with animals, he no longer see them as symbols, he is able to relate to these animals in an entirely non-selfish way. The balance of what he provides the animals – nourishment, love, kindness, and respect, and what the animals provide him – non-judgmental love and happiness, is equal.

Some of us are appreciative of animals on an aesthetic level, in some ways, taking their beauty for granted. We take a morning walk and appreciate seeing a variety of birds in our neighborhood treetops. We take a closer look at their beautiful markings and listen to their intriguing calls. We label their actions how we see fit, they must be calling for a mate or searching for worms. This is what birds do, right? Without any disrespect intended, we have come accustomed to this way of thinking and being. We feel that we know these animals and have the superiority needed to judge their behavior and guess what it portrays. We create wildlife refuges “for them” for our enjoyment, we pay money to see them in their “natural state” and we write postcards home about the beautiful wildlife we saw on vacation. Borrowing from Paul Shepard’s philosophy of thought, we need animals. They are a part of our thought process and of our healthy mental state. We place animals in a space that is comfortable to us, mentally, physically, and emotionally. We feel that we are doing them a favor, even showing compassion and respect by including them in our human world and by defining their emotions as we know our own. They allow us to interpret their intricate lives in this way and often we keep their place on the otherness spectrum at a distance from a true understanding of their behavior. We want animals in our lives, but we do not want to allow them to live their own intricate lives, free from our judgment.

As this spectrum of otherness presents itself in our lives, some of us are able to maintain positive interactions with animals while still being reminded of their otherness. It is an admirable way of life to avoid placing judgment on animals behavior and perceived emotions and create a parallel for your curiosity and their being. There is a balance that exists where one can connect with animals without being intrusive. This balance can exist when humans let go of the symbols they have placed on animals since their childhood, when they are content with the fact that there may never be an explanation for an animal’s behavior. An appreciation of animals, as others, and of their behavior, patterns, movements and relationships is gained through long-term, open-ended observation. It is not gained by going to the zoo, by reading poetry influenced by symbolism, by hunting them for sport, or by using them for selfish gain, whether it be financial or psychological.

In Bernd Heinrich’s, Ravens in Winter, so much appreciation of wildlife, especially of the corvid family of birds, is gained through the journals of a man determined to find an answer to his questions about ravens. Heinrich spent many winters in the snowy, cold wilderness observing ravens. He explained how observing wildlife is a difficult task, if you look down for just a moment you will miss something. Heinrich was as dedicated as an observer of wildlife could be, getting up before dawn, sleeping in a -10 F cabin, and spending much time in solitude. Of his observations he states, “Undoubtedly, getting the trappings of science would make the work seem more “scientific,” but I know it would make me a slave to the equipment; it would also make me lose sight of whole dimensions of behavior that the equipment is not designed to see.” (Heinrich, 69) Heinrich observed for many days over at least a handful of years, he learned to let go of the notion of a desired outcome. He found patterns of behavior, but not what he expected. Even at the end of his book, he does not have a clear conclusion. “It is an elegant, simple, and beautiful system. But it is clothed by intricate detail and subtlety. As far as I know, no other animals shows a similar system. However, sometimes when I am fanciful and envision ravens studying humans, I can’t help but wonder what they would make of some of our customs, and how they might arrive at scientific conclusions about them.” (Heinrich, 313) So often in science there is a need for a conclusion and for a theory to be proven. In order to find a balance between humans and animals, we need to realize that we can find patterns in animal behavior, but there is not one conclusive reason as to why an animal does something. We will never know. Being able to accept this mystery is what ultimately yields a greater appreciation of animals; it is what allows us to respectfully coexist with them.

I have found this ideal balance and admirable relationship with animals in Esther Woolfson’s writings of her accounts of accidentally becoming a bird keeper. She was given a pair of doves by a friend and then became the neighborhood go to for injured birds that had fallen out of their nests. Woolfson took on this task with nonchalance, knowing that she would not know exactly what do and that she may not get any appreciation or acknowledgement from all the time, effort, and money she would put into these birds. She was able to not view the birds impersonally, through her graceful writings it is clear that she viewed the birds as other living beings sharing her home; I can imagine she would show the same love, respect, and gratitude to another human being. Woolfson spend so much time with her birds, not purposefully observing, rather just noting behavior as you would by spending time with a close friend. You begin to learn their unique habits, their quirks, their tone and inflection in certain situations. You are able to go beyond guessing as to why they do what they do because you know them.

In Woolfson’s view of birds as others she recognizes their differences and at the same time sees similarities. She understands that an individual bird’s behavior cannot be categorized as “bird behavior.” Much like Heinrich, she understands that birds are unique individuals, she observed certain birds having days in which they seemed to desire solitude and days in which those same birds were incredibly social, making her unable to label a certain species as social or less social. In Bernd Heinrich’s observations of ravens, he states, “But how would you demonstrate deliberate recruitment short of asking the bird directly in Ravenese: “What do you have in mind when your behavior causes others to share the food? Is this what you wanted?” But I’m not asking these questions. I’m trying to explain behavior without volition.” (Heinrich, 83) Heinrich and Woolfson both understand that birds speak another language that we, if unable to ask them in our own language, may not ever understand. And we should be entirely content with that.

Similar to my grandmother’s quiet appreciation of the eagles, Woolfson states, "I thought about what we'd all miss if we didn't have them: our pleasure in the way they looked, their presence in the garden as they lined up to bathe, wandered across the grass on damp mornings, pottered by the pond, the fanatic, obvious delight they took in flight, their luminous, stellar beauty. Their sounds had become part of our lives, their voices echoing down the sound-chambers of the chimneys, the way the movement of their wings outside altered the colours in the rooms." (Woolfson, 33) Living with these birds as others, on the level of being non-intrusive and observing their behavior as we would our friends, non-judgmentally, has developed a deep appreciation of wildlife in Woolfson, Heinrich, and my grandmother. All three were long-term observers and lovers of nature and wildlife. Sharing their stories is a reminder of how much can be gained through this view of animals as others.
 
Sources Cited
The Grizzly Man. Dir. Werner Herzog. Lions Gate Films, 2005. Film.
Heinrich, Bernd. Ravens in Winter. New York: Random House, Inc., 1991. Print.
“History of the Vince Shute Wildlife Sanctuary.”
http://www.americanbear.org/sanctuary/history.html.
Lopez, Barry. Arctic Dreams. New York: Bantam Publising, 1987. Print.
Lopez, Barry. Crossing Open Ground. New York: Vintage Books, 1989. Print.
Peaceable Kingdom. Dir. Jenny Stein. Tribe of Heart Films, 2009. Film.
Shepard, Paul. Thinking Animals. Washington, D.C.: Island Press Publishing,
1997. Print.
Woolfson, Esther. Corvus: A Life with Birds. Berkeley, CA: Counterpoint LLC.
2009. Print.

Curious Naturalists

In response to Niko Tinbergen's, Curious Naturalists, it seems very obvious that he had an appreciation of the wildlife that he was working with. Although throughout the reading I continued to wonder why his experiments were necessary. He played many games and conducted experiments on various wildlife, but I am not quite sure what the gain was. Yes, he did get his work published, but it seems that much of his findings were unable to progress. Aside from curiosity, why do we need to know whether or not a bird will eat a caterpillar that appears to be flat as opposed to one that is three dimensional, by way of showing its shadows? His studies were very interesting and I appreciated learning about the species they applied to, but I would have equally, if not more greatly, appreciated a naturalist's observations without performing experiements.

Some of the work performed by Tinbergen involved different species of birds and taking a look at their senses. In contrast to the book I read previously, Corvus: A Life with Birds, I felt that Woolfson's apprectiation and knowledge of birds was so much greater because she had spent years with these animals. She observed them, yes, out of curiosity, but did not feel the need to perform experiments to understand their behavior. She observed their habits on a daily basis as if they were loved ones, because they were. She did not judge their behavior, she accepted it as it was, and she was not looking for a specific outcome.

One of Tinbergen's experiments was to judge the role of shadows in a jays relationship with his food, would the jay eat a caterpillar turned upside down as opposed to right side up? Tinbergen used caterpillars which he injected with cyanide and placed them in different positions to create shadows and to create situations with few or no shadows. In a similar experiment, he used moths painted different colors and twigs which resembled caterpillars. I do not feel the need to post the results to these tests because they were inconclusive and in my opinion, unecessary.

I feel that treating these birds as subjects creates a certain type of relationship. I do not believe that Tinbergen would have been capable of having the same kind of relationship or even appreciation of wildlife as Woolfson had in her life with birds. Even though Tinbergen's studies took time and effort, it seems like the easy way out. The back cover of Curious Naturalists includes a quote from Tinbergen, "This book describes the activities and some of the discoveries of a small number of naturalists who have joined me, at one time or another, in the pursuit of our common hobby: the study of behavior of animals in their natural environment." In the book, Tinbergen describes the testing locations, man-made boxes, cages or even in a lab setting. And really, how often will a jay find, in his "natural environment" a metal cage and an array of cyanide injected caterpillar treats? These are not the same results that would be attained in a creature's natural environment.

It would be interesting to see, in contrast, what Tinbergen would have found by only observing wildlife. By still looking for the same outcome, but by observation alone. This reminds me of my readings of the Dunne-za and their opinion of short term observers of wildlife. It was difficult for them to have respect and trust the results of people who had only been observing animals for a short time. Tinbergen was not only observing his subjects for a short time, but he also was creating tests for them that were far from what would take place in their natural environment.

At the end of the chapter, Studies of Camouflage, Tinbergen comments on his growing apprection of wildlife as he performs these experiments. By reading this book I do have more appreciation of the species that he mentions. He describes their aesthetic beauty, their colors and markings in great detail. But most of my appreciation and compassion for these animals is due to the fact that they had to put up with these tests, that they had no choice. The tests were not necessarily cruel, but they were unecessary and did not benefit the animals who had to undergo them. They were performed for the sole benefit of the creators, to fulfill their curiosity.

Tinbergen states, "We often felt that there is not less, and perhaps, even more, beauty in the result of analysis than there is to be found in mere contemplation." (Tinbergen, 154) I question what Tinbergen means when he uses the word contemplation. I feel that this word has inclination towards a quickness in delivery and outcome, whereas observation takes time. When you are observing something you have the understanding that it will not be quick and will possibly be without a deadline.

Tinbergen does not relate to wildlife in the same way as Woolfson or the Dunne-za. It seems as though he sees wildlife as if it were on this earth for humans to enjoy, to ponder, to look at, and to be given a sense of awe. For these reasons, Tinbergen appreciates wildlife, but he does not show compassion or respect for it. "I believe that I myself am not at all insensitive to an animal's beauty, but I must stress that my aesthetic sense has been receiving even more satisfaction since I studied the function and significance of this beauty." (Tinbergen, 154) In this statement, Tinbergen shows that most of his appreciation of animals stems from their aesthetic beauty and by their functions which he labels as such, those that do not tell us anything significant about his subjects.

Children and Creature Symbols

“[Animals] are the means to a self-identity and self-consciousness as our most human possession, for they enable us to objectify qualities and traits. By presenting us with related-otherness – that diversity of non-self with which we have various things in common – they further, throughout our lives, a refining and maturing knowledge of personal and human being.” (Shepard, 249)

Through the reading of Paul Shepard and by looking back on my own childhood and those childhoods which are becoming around me, it has become clear that who we are, the words we say, the way we feel, and the way we identify ourselves is defined by what we have learned of animals. Without animals we would not have learned the basics of being human: speech and vocabulary, conflict resolution, the importance of family, and how to interact with others. These traits would have been learned, but in an entirely different way. I cannot imagine a child’s world without the use of animals as learning tools. The numerous books, movies, and pieces of art that portray animals as having human relationships taught us, as children, about respect, love, difference, and the significance of friendships and family. Animals are used in songs and games to teach us shapes, numbers, and the alphabet. As we grow older, animals are used in literature to teach us about spirituality and the natural world.

We place animals in a space that is comfortable to us, mentally, physically, and emotionally. We feel that we are doing them a favor, even showing compassion and respect by including them in our human world and by defining their emotions as we know our own. “The distinction between animals as figurative people and as surrogate people may seem unnecessarily fine because we are not used to making it. But the difference is fundamental and it influences the way we see the animal world all our lives and therefore the way we see ourselves.” (Shepard, 250) We relate to animals by subconsciously applying human emotions to the actions that they show us. We perceive them as being sad, happy, lonely, or silly. We feel that we understand them. We forget where they came from and where they are now. We forget that at one time, they did not assimilate to the sounds of airplanes above their sky, to the sounds of automobile engines in their grasslands, and to being on display for us to observe and interrogate. Whether we feel we are treating them with respect and kindness or not, the fact will always exist that we have used them for our benefit, we have treated them as “others” in a positive, but more often, negative way. We take for granted their existence, influence, and benefit. All the while, they have continued to accept our forced relationships with them, allowing us to be the creators of their future.

Children learn about life, love, and relationships through fictional stories about animals. Paul Shepard believes that we place these stories about human interaction in animal form because it is a way for us to use animals as examples which we can learn from. We can relate to their being like us, in somewhat human form, yet they “manifest that invisible otherness.” (Shepard, 31) This otherness keeps our relationship with them safe. We do not have to tell our children about the harsh world of nature or our harsh treatment of that world. Instead, we can use these images of creatures in cartoon form to benefit us and our children. We use these images as tools for teaching our children about behavior and relationships. Perhaps we feel that it is not appropriate to portray animals in this way to our children, but, hey, they are teaching them important lessons. Children don’t need to know that brown bears are actually quite solitary animals when the Berenstain Bears are teaching them about family life and conflict resolution, right?

I recently saw a children’s cartoon that involved an elephant, a monkey, and a koala. The elephant was doing what elephants do best, building a rocket-ship, and the silly monkey and koala, while elephant wasn’t looking, broke his most prized project. Being the smart elephant that he is, he knew that monkey and koala were the culprits. When he learned of this, he cried and cried and cried. Monkey and koala felt so bad that they gave in, apologized and helped elephant fix his rocket-ship. In the end, everyone agreed that apologizing to elephant was the best outcome and they were even better friends now. By using animals in place of humans in this story, children were immediately more interested in the story. It is entertaining to see an elephant riding a rocket-ship and a monkey and koala trying to decide the best apology to deliver. Aside from their entertainment value alone, studies have shown that young children find it easier to relate to animals than to other humans. The children know that this is not typical animal behavior, but they also do not know what true animal behavior is. By showing children that elephants, bears and monkeys live in houses in the city, it will be difficult to teach them where animals really live, where they came from, and how our actions impact their future.

Most books, games, television programs, movies, and learning tools we use to teach our children involve the humanizing of animals. There begins to be a fine line of what is respectful and what is disrespectful when including animals in our everyday lives. Children are able to name every animal, tell of some generic behavior that they possess, and feel a closeness with animals as their images and fictional stories surround their everyday lives. But keeping animals at the proximity of cartoon images in storybooks and behind cages in zoos is not teaching them about animal differences. They are only learning how to see animals as dual physicality human-animals. Children learn that in these fictional human emotions and expressions, animals have only one trait. “Unlike people, who seem to be bear-like one minute and cow-like the next, each kind of creature has some one notable characteristic from among these fugitive components and experiences of which we were previously unconscious.” (Shepard, 117) By portraying animals in this way, it will be difficult for children to set aside these solo characteristics and to someday truly understand that animals lead intricate, emotional lives of their own. And they don’t live in tree-houses near the city.

Animals are such a profound part of our lives, more often than not, only in a fictional sense. The benefits our children have received from learning tools that use animals as the teachers is tremendous. But does the negative impact outweigh the benefits? Children are not learning enough about animal behavior by playing games and reading books about cartoon animals. As Shepard has explained in Thinking Animals, there seems to always be another agenda in our teaching children. We include animals in their learning to teach them about human relationships, which we perhaps find more important that creating human-animal relationships, based on true knowledge and not single characteristics. It is easier to continue to use animals as we have been, because children are already intrigued by them.

The other day while at my nanny job, I went to pick up a child from her friend’s house. As I entered the house, the mother, excitedly asked, “Do you want to see our chicks?” And in the same breath, “I’m sorry about the horrible smell, I’ve got a chicken in the oven and I must have set the temperature too high. I’m going to open some windows and air this place out.” The family had just purchased chicks to raise for egg-laying. And they were cooking a chicken for dinner. And complaining about its horrible smell. It’s quite possible that I am too affected by this irony, but I wonder what this is teaching children. We will take care of these cute chicks and help them to grow so they can give us eggs. While they are growing we will eat their likeness for dinner, in another form, the flesh concealed in saran-wrap form. And tonight we’ll read our favorite silly story, Chicken Little. This animal is near and somewhat dear to the child, but what is missing from the child’s understanding of this animal? Do these combined actions create respect and understanding of other species with whom we share this planet?