Journey Into The Animal Mind

Author(s): Ross Andersen
Publisher: Ross Andersen

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they dislike, but for favored humans, they sometimes leave gifts-buttons or shiny bits of glass—where the person will be sure to notice, like votive offerings.
If these behaviors add up to consciousness, it means one of two things: Either consciousness evolved twice, at least, across the long course of evolutionary history, or it evolved sometime before birds and mammals went on their separate evolutionary journeys. Both scenarios would give us reason to believe that nature can knit molecules into waking minds more easily than previously guessed. This would mean that all across the planet, animals large and small are constantly generating vivid experiences that bear some relationship to our own.
HE DAY AFTER I visited the bird hospital, I left Delhi by car, on a road that follows the Yamuna River south and east, away from its icy source among
the serrated ridges of the Himalayas. Delhi's sewage has blackened long stretches of the Yamuna, making it one of the world's most polluted rivers. From the road, I could see plastic bottles floating on its surface. In India, where rivers have a special place in the spiritual imagination, this is a metaphysical defilement.
Millions of fish once swam in the Yamuna River, before it was desecrated by the human technosphere, which now reaches into nearly every body of water on Earth. Even the deepest point in the ocean is littered with trash: A grocery bag was recently seen drifting along the bottom of the Mariana Trench.
We last swam in the same gene pool with the animals that evolved into fish about 460 million years ago, more than 100 million years before we split from birds. The notion that we are kin across this expanse of time has proved too radical for some, which is one reason the ever-changing universe described by Darwin has been slow to lodge in the collective human consciousness. And yet, our hands are converted fins, our hiccups the relics of gill-breathing.
Scientists have sometimes seemed to judge fish for their refusal to join our exodus out of the water and into the atmosphere's more ethereal realm of gases. Their inability to see far in their murky environment is sometimes thought to be a