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.