Mirror, mirror on the wall, which animals are the cleverest of all?
Sometimes the scientific community, requiring as it does laboratory evidence for most things before declaring them ‘real’, seems way behind when it comes to recognising what goes on in the real world. The latest news is that magpies have joined humans, apes, elephants and dolphins as animals officially declared capable of recognising their own reflections in mirrors, and knowing them for what they are. But I am surely not the only cat owner in the world who has identified through real experience that while the majority of cats show no interest in mirrors, some do—and, by observing them observing themselves, we are capable of discerning, with absolute certainty, that some cats most definitely recognise their own reflections for what they are.
Whether those cats that show no interest in mirrors ‘get’ what mirrors are and do, and simply don’t care to spend time looking at themselves, is a question science and the layman are equally incapable of answering. It may simply yet remarkably be that some cats are more vain than others. Or it may be that some cats are cleverer than others.
I’ve noticed what we might term ‘mirror-awareness’ in three of our cats down the years. The late and much-missed Dolly enjoyed looking at herself in mirrors for all of her 19 years spent on this planet in my company. Mandrake, our three-legged marmalade tom, aged 8, can spend many minutes staring at himself, not at all confounded, knowing it’s him in the mirror and not another cat. For some reason he displays acute embarrassment when caught in the act of self-examination in the mirror. B’Elanna, our one remaining female, aged 10, seeks out not only mirrors but reflective windows and oven doors to groom in front of, check her appearance, and then continue grooming—a pattern that can go on for hours until she is satisfied, through looking at her own reflection, that her appearance is good to go.
All three cats displayed an awareness of mirrors, and their functionality, from being very small kittens. If some have it and others don’t, it’s a genetic thing or, for some reason, it’s learned very early on in life.
Caged birds have often been given small mirrors as playthings. Baldwin, our cockerel cockatiel, loves to look at his own reflection. He isn’t thinking it’s another bird. He knows who’s looking back at him. He uses a mirror to preen in front of, seemingly using it to assess whether he’s doing a good job, maybe, or to see how more inaccessible areas are looking. Actually, the why is unclear—with birds, with cats, with other animals. But the fact is, even without scientific approval, many animals understand reflections for what they are. Far more than the number of species officially recognised as having this ability by scientists.
I don’t know much if anything about dogs. I do know scientists announced, last year I think it was, that dogs feel jealousy. Again, pet owners the world over must have scoffed out loud that it took as long as it did for scientists to be able to confidently state that which has been known to dog lovers as bleedin’ obvious for millennia. Science has, of course, yet to confirm that cats feel jealousy too. Or birds. But, relying on my personal experience again, I can tell you I have no doubt that they do. I’ve seen it, with my own two eyes. But, for science, it being what it is, that can never be enough. And scientists continue to deliberate whether fish feel pain, despite the experiences of people with fish tanks in their homes the world over, most of whom would testify that fish not only feel pain, but jealousy, anger and fear as well.
We can but wonder just how many things can’t be identified, assessed, and quantified under laboratory conditions. I suspect far more than can be. Am I saying science has limits, real or socially-constructed? In some directions, yes, in others no. But for many scientists, the idea that we can learn all the secrets of the universe, given enough time and brainpower, is a creed that, to all intents and purposes, looks like religious faith to me. It’s no wonder that there are so many non-scientists who believe that while they don’t know how to splice a gene, there are some secrets of the universe that they are privy to while scientists aren’t, and perhaps never will be.
They could be right. They could be wrong. I for one aren’t knowledgeable enough to say either way. But I do love the idea that for every new discovery we make, spiritually or scientifically, another ten mysteries appear to confound and challenge us.
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