Bats Sing, Mice Giggle: The Surprising Science of Animals’ Inner Lives

If we’re canoeing down a river and see a beaver slap its tail on the surface of the water, the odds are that the beaver is warning of danger—and that we are the perceived danger. If a white-tailed deer gives out a quick “deer whistle” and flashes its tail-patch in front of other deer, it’s saying: “Let’s get out of here.” A fussing squirrel is broadcasting its own concern about a possible predator

Just as is the case with humans, information is power, and a bit of gossip won’t hurt.

Frogs change their croaks or even stutter to get what they want; opossums play dead to avoid danger; monkeys may pretend to be somebody else; and elephants mimic the sound of trucks.

Every species has its own way of perceiving and interacting with its environment based on its size, its surroundings, its sensory capacities, and how it behaves and what it remembers.

Some animals have a sense of humor; for example, parrots have been known to tell jokes of their own composition.

Four- to eight-week-old bat pups make long strings of barks, chatters and screeches that represent jumbled-up adult-like calls. Scientists now know that bats, like some primates and birds, babble as babies

Twentieth-century scientific practices placed humans on a pedestal of superiority, further separating us from our natural roots and surroundings. Now, science is beginning to take us back to nature, providing a window into the minds of other species.

As the Industrial Revolution and the development of urban centers moved us from nature and the land to the promise of science and technology, we detached ourselves from the understanding of the animal world.

engaged in cracking the code for the neural representation of social c

He is an expert on cortical mechanisms