perhaps it was performing for the people in the small boat to thank them for rescuing it from certain death.22
Then there is this story of gratitude closer to home about wild birds that voluntarily shared their treasures with a young girl in Seattle. Crows like to collect shiny things and, of course, crows also like to eat. When Gabi was four, like many four-year-olds, she was not a particularly neat eater, and sometimes she dropped her food on the ground when she was outside. The crows lost no time snatching it up. A couple of years later, Gabi began intentionally sharing her lunch with the crows as she walked to the school bus stop. Then she began feeding the crows on a daily basis in her backyard. Soon after that, the birds began bringing her gifts: bits of glass, screws, pieces of bone, broken jewelry. One time Gabi’s mother, Lisa, dropped the lens cap of her camera when she was photographing the crows and thought it was lost, only to find it right there a few days later on the bird feeder. The crows had even carefully washed it before returning it. Is this gratitude, perhaps? Crows are certainly known for recognizing people and for having strong emotional reactions to those they don’t like. In this case, it seems they liked Gabi very much, and perhaps they were grateful and thanking her for looking after them for all those years.23
7
LIES AND DECEPTION
CAN ANIMALS LIE? If you define the term loosely, then quite a few can. The hoverfly, whose yellow and black stripes make it look like a wasp, “lies” to its enemies by making them believe it is dangerous. It must be said that the fly is unaware of its deception, because it doesn’t actively undertake it; it was just born looking that way. It’s the same with the European peacock butterfly. With big “eyes” on its wings, it signals to its enemies that it’s bigger than it really is and is too large for them to tackle. But let’s put these examples of passive lying aside and take a look to see which animals are the real tricksters with deception on their minds.
One of these, for example, would be our rooster, Fridolin. He’s a portly representative of his species and as white as driven snow, which is just as he should be because he’s a white Australorp. Fridolin lives with two hens in a nearly 200-square-yard run designed to keep out foxes and hawks. Two hens are quite enough to provide us with the eggs that we need. Fridolin, however, sees things differently. Such a small flock doesn’t keep him as busy as he’d like to be, and with a sex drive like his, he could easily satisfy a couple of dozen lovers. Circumstances, however, dictate that he has to concentrate all his loving on Lotta and Polly. The hens are not at all keen on constant coupling and therefore quickly give Fridolin the slip as he prepares to make that final pounce. If he somehow manages to land on the back of one of his ladies despite her best efforts to avoid him, he spreads his wings to keep his balance. At the same time, he grabs hold of the neck feathers of the hen, which is now squashed down flat on the ground, and sometimes he even pulls feathers out in a frenzy of passion. Then he presses his cloaca against hers and squirts his semen inside. As soon as the act is over—it lasts just a matter of seconds—the hen gets up and gives herself a shake and, at least for the time being, she can return to eating unmolested. But it’s not long before Fridolin’s ardor returns, and because neither hen is interested in joining in, he has to chase them down all over again. The rooster often runs out of steam while pursuing them, and a modicum of peace descends.
But then Fridolin came up with an easier way of getting what he wanted. Fridolin is usually a real gentleman, allowing his little harem first dibs at food. As soon as he spies something tasty, he makes a special clucking sound, and it’s not long before Lotta and Polly rush over and fall upon the food he has found for them. But sometimes there isn’t anything to eat under Fridolin’s feet, and it turns out that the rooster has enticed his hens over with a bald-faced lie. Instead of tasty worms or crunchy seeds, what awaits them is another of Fridolin’s attempts to mate, and—thanks to the element of surprise—his devious plan is often rewarded with success. However, if he tries this trick too often (and with two hens a couple of lies suffice), then both of them become cautious, even when real food is on offer. No one believes a liar, even when he tells the truth...
Other species of birds can also be big fibbers. Take swallows, for example. If a male returns to find his mate is not on the nest, he gives an alarm call. His mate wrongly supposes danger threatens, and she flies back to the nest via the shortest route. The male uses the false alarm call to keep his mate from pursuing dalliances in his absence. Once the eggs have been laid, this is no longer a concern, and the deceitful calls disappear.24
Great tits provide another example. They are widespread in many parts of the world and a number of them are fibbers, for when it comes to food, it’s every bird for itself. These pretty birds with black heads and white cheeks have a sophisticated language they use to warn each other about predators. One of these predators is a small raptor called a sparrowhawk that likes to hunt in backyards. The bird dives down, quick as an arrow, to grab sparrows, robins, and tits, and then flies to the nearest bush to eat them. A great tit that spies the danger from afar warns others of its kind with a high-pitched call. The call is out of the sparrowhawk’s range of hearing, which gives the great tits a chance to slip safely away before the raptor spies them. If, however, the raptor is already dangerously close, the warning is broadcast at lower frequencies, so all the tits know an attack is imminent. The attacker can also hear this deep churring call and immediately realizes that its planned surprise attack isn’t a surprise anymore. It often ends up grabbing thin air because the tits are on the alert. I’m sorry to report that some great tits take advantage of their well-functioning community. If there’s particularly tasty food around or if food is scarce, then the little liars make the usual alarm call. All the birds quickly fly to safety—or almost all. Left alone, the trickster can now eat as much as it likes.
How about cheating on your mate? This form of sexual liaison is also a kind of deception—at least it is when the cheater knows what it is doing. And you can see exactly this with male magpies. Some urban communities consider these handsome black-and-white corvids to be public enemy number one, because they snatch the babies of other songbirds to feed their own young. This behavior puts them in the same league as the squirrels I’ve already talked about. I like to imagine what it would be like if magpies were an endangered species. If that were the case, we would be excited to see them, and we would marvel at how their black feathers shimmer blue-green in the light. Unfortunately, people who appreciate their beauty are few and far between.
But back to cheating. Like other corvids, magpies form pair bonds that last a lifetime. They set themselves up with their partners in a home territory that, like their partnership, lasts for many years. They vigorously defend their home from others of their kind. This is clearly because both partners want to avoid sexual dalliances, because after the eggs have been laid and most of the business of procreation has been accomplished, the zeal with which they defend the boundaries of their territory diminishes considerably. But even before that happens, much of this territorial defense is strictly for show, at least on the part of the males. While the female aggressively drives off any competitors that intrude, her partner is an opportunist. As long as his mate is watching or within earshot, he’ll be just as aggressive in driving off any intruding female. However, if he thinks he’s not being observed, he begins eagerly courting the attractive stranger instead.25
There are, however, other strategies in the animal world that cannot really be called lies, even if this is how they are sometimes described in the media. There are reports of foxes that, in contrast to peacock butterflies, actively fool others. The fox’s hunting repertoire includes playing dead, and a fox may even let its tongue hang out to make the scene more convincing. A corpse out in the open? There are always takers, most often crows, which are happy to help themselves if there’s delicious meat on offer, even when it’s a bit past its prime. In the case of the fox, it’s super fresh—too fresh, as it turns out. Any black-feathered guest that decides to grab a bite suddenly finds itself in the jaws of the wily fox and ends up being the meal instead.26 That is a masterful piece of play acting and definitely a trap, but
